It is needless to say that Mrs. Wallace was not troubled with any more shroud making for Maj. Oliver’s command.
During this same winter, and while Major Oliver was in command at Independence, in the many skirmishes and fights between the Federal soldiers and “Quantrell’s bushwhackers,” as they were called, many rich incidents occurred, amongst them the following, in which one of the oldest ministers in the State was the hero:
Rev. S. S. Colburn, for many long years a traveling preacher in the itinerant ranks of the M. E. Church, South, and then living in Cass county, in a superannuated condition, had been so much annoyed, so often robbed, and his life so repeatedly threatened, that he concluded to leave his home and place himself under the protection of friendly bayonets as his only means of safety. He happened one day upon the camp of Quantrell and his men, some of whom he knew very well as his “neighbor boys.” They prevailed on him to remain with them a few days and they would protect him. He was too old to bear arms and do the kind of fighting they had to do, but he could keep camp for them and stay with his old friends sometimes at night. They offered the best they had, with their most vigilant protection, which the old man concluded to accept for a few days.
He had not been long with them when their supplies were about to give out, and a consultation was had as to the best method of replenishing the stock. It was soon agreed that Mr. Colburn should go to the house of an old friend not far off, stay all night, and bring in a sack of potatoes the next morning. With this intent he left the camp late in the evening, and soon found himself in the comfortable home of his friend, and in the most agreeable family intercourse around a cheerful fire. Old times were talked over and present events canvassed till a late hour, when the “family Bible,” the worship, the good night and the downy bed closed the scene. A refreshing sleep brought the old man to an early start, and the friendship of other years filled his sack with fine potatoes; and, as the sun arose upon the world, he hailed the smoke of the early camp fire, and pressed on toward his hungry protectors.
Just at daylight the camp had been surprised and attacked by a squad of Federal soldiers. The rebels fled in confusion, leaving the camp in possession of the enemy, while they formed in the adjacent brush and prepared to re-take the camp. Just as Mr. Colburn rode into camp, all ignorant of what had occurred, Quantrell opened fire on the enemy, which was promptly returned. The preacher comprehended the situation in an instant, and, wheeling his horse, started to retreat. He was followed by a volley of whistling minnie balls from the new occupants of the camp, and fell from his horse instantly, by his sack of potatoes, and “went dead.” The rebels re-took their camp, and in the precipitate retreat of the enemy they rode over the sack of potatoes and the body of the preacher, the horses every time clearing both at a bound. When the preacher was assured of safety, he got up, shouldered his potatoes and walked into camp with a broad smile on his face, to the great joy of his friends. By a timely ruse he saved both his bacon and potatoes.
Rev. J. M. Breeding.
The following account of the persecution of this excellent and faithful local preacher of the M. E. Church, South, is quite an abridgement of the statement furnished, but is amply sufficient to show that very few men in these perilous times suffered more, and escaped more frequently, as “with the skin of his teeth.” How wonderful that special Providence which so often interposes to save the lives of his chosen servants!
In March, 1863, Mr. Breeding was residing on Barker’s creek, in Henry county, Mo. His wife was very ill—not able to raise her head from her pillow. When they were alone, and at midnight, three armed men opened the yard gate, rode rapidly up to the house, and called for Mr. B. to come out. This he declined to do, telling them that he could hear what they had to say where he was. He saw from the door, which he held ajar, that they held their pistols well in hand, as if awaiting an object to shoot. They ordered him to come out a second time, and in no genteel language. He refused, saying to them that if they would come to see him in the day time he would see and talk with them like neighbors.
They asked him if he was armed. He told them that he was a civil man, and had some plows with which he expected to cultivate the ground in the summer; and did not let them know that he was wholly unarmed. They asked his politics, and were informed that he never meddled with the politics of the country; that his only platform was “Repentance toward God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.”
“You are a preacher, then?”