CHAPTER XXV.
THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH.

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PHILLIP EMBURY, Barbara Heck, and Capt. Thomas Webb were the germ from which, in the good providence of God, has sprung the Methodist Episcopal Church in the United States of America. The first chapel was erected upon leased ground on John Street, New York City, in 1768. The ground was purchased in 1770. Subscriptions were asked and received from all classes of people for the building, from the mayor of the city down to African female servants known only by their Christian names. Here the Colored people became first identified with American Methodism. From this stock have sprung all who have been subsequently connected with it. Meetings were held, prior to the erection of John Street Church, in the private residence of Mrs. Heck, and in a rigging-loft, sixty by eighteen feet, in William Street, which was rented in 1767. Here Capt. Webb and Mr. Embury preached thrice a week to large audiences. The original design to erect a chapel must be credited to Mrs. Heck, the foundress of American Methodism. Mr. Richard Owen, a convert of Robert Strawbridge, the founder of Methodism in Baltimore, was the first native Methodist preacher on the continent. The first American Annual Conference was held in Philadelphia, Pa., twenty-nine years after Mr. Wesley held his first conference in England, with ten members, precisely the same number there were in his. They were Thos. Rankin, President; Richard Boardman, Joseph Pilmoor, Francis Asbury, Richard Wright, George Shadford, Thomas Webb, John King, Abraham Whiteworth, and Joseph Yearbry. It began Wednesday the 14th and closed Friday the 16th of July, 1773. All the members were foreigners, and in the Revolution many of them were subject to unjust suspicions of sympathy with England, in consequence of this fact alone. The aggregate statistical returns for this conference showed 1,160, which was much less than Mr. Rankin supposed to be the strength of Methodism in America.

On the 2d of September, 1784, Rev. Thomas Coke, D.D., LL.D., a presbyter in the Church of England, was ordained by John Wesley, A.M., Superintendent or Bishop of the Methodist Societies in America. He was charged with a commission to organize them into an Episcopal Church, and to ordain Mr. Francis Asbury an Associate Bishop. He sailed for America at 10 o'clock A.M., September 18th, and landed at New York, Wednesday, November 3, 1784. Mr. Coke at once set out on a tour of observation, accompanied by Harry Hosier, Mr. Asbury's travelling servant, a Colored minister. Hosier was one of the notable characters of that day. He was the first American Negro preacher of the M. E. Church in the United States. In 1780 Mr. Asbury alluded to him as a companion, suitable to preach to the Colored people. Dr. Rush, allowing for his illiteracy—for he could not read—pronounced him the greatest orator in America. He was small in stature and very black; but he had eyes of remarkable brilliancy and keenness; and singular readiness and aptness of speech. He travelled extensively with Asbury, Coke, and Whiteworth. He afterward travelled through New England. He excelled all the whites in popularity as a preacher; sharing with them in their public services, not only in Colored but also in white congregations. When they were sick or otherwise disabled they could trust the pulpit to Harry without fear of unfavorably disappointing the people. Mr. Asbury acknowledges that the best way to obtain a large congregation was to announce that Harry would preach. The multitude preferred him to the Bishop himself. Though he withstood for years the temptations of extraordinary popularity, he fell, nevertheless, by the indulgent hospitalities which were lavished upon him. He became temporarily the victim of wine; but possessed moral strength enough to recover himself. Self-abased and contrite, he started one evening down the neck below Southwark, Philadelphia, determined to remain till his backslidings were healed. Under a tree he wrestled in prayer into the watches of the night. Before the morning God restored to him the joys of His salvation. Thenceforward he continued faithful. He resumed his public labors. In the year 1810 he died in Philadelphia. "Making a good end," he was borne to the grave by a great procession of both Colored and white admirers, who buried him as a hero—one overcome, but finally victorious.

It is said that on one occasion, in Wilmington, Del., where Methodism was long unpopular, a number of the citizens, who did not ordinarily attend Methodist preaching, came together to hear Bishop Asbury. Old Asbury Chapel was, at that time, so full that they could not get in. They stood outside to hear the Bishop, as they supposed; but in reality they heard Harry. Before they left the place, they complimented the speaker by saying: "If all Methodist preachers could preach like the Bishop we should like to be constant hearers." Some one present replied: "That was not the Bishop, but his servant." This only raised the Bishop higher in their estimation, as their conclusion was, if such be the servant what must the master be? The truth was, that Harry was a more popular speaker than Asbury, or almost any one else in his day.[130]

So we find in the very inception of Methodism in the United States the Colored people were conspicuously represented in its membership, contributing both money, labor, and eloquence to its grand success.

The great founder of Methodism was an inveterate foe of human slavery, which he pronounced "the sum of all villainies," and in this particular the Methodist societies in their earliest times reflected his sentiments. The early preachers were especially hostile to slavery. In 1784 it was considered and declared to be contrary to the Golden Law of God, as well as every principle of the Revolution. They required every Methodist to execute and record, within twelve months after notice by the preacher, a legal instrument emancipating all slaves in his possession at specified ages. Any person who should not concur in this requirement had liberty to leave the Church within one year; Otherwise the preacher was to exclude him. No person holding slaves could be admitted to membership, or to the Lord's Supper, until he complied with this law. But it was to be applied only where the law of the State permitted.[131] These rules provoked great hostility, and were suspended within six months.

The Church had, however, put the stamp of condemnation upon it. And ever in a more or less active but always consistent manner opposed it, until its final extirpation was accomplished, though not until the Church had been several times divided in favor of and against it.

The Methodist Episcopal Church in the United States of America was organized in what is historically known as the Christmas Conference, which convened in Baltimore at ten o'clock Friday morning, December 24, 1784, Bishop Thomas Coke, presiding. Rev. Francis Asbury was there consecrated a bishop. In 1786 a resolution emphatically enjoining it upon the preachers to leave nothing undone for the spiritual benefit and salvation of the Colored people was adopted. The Church is a limited Episcopacy. The bishops are elected by the General Conference. They fix the appointments of all the preachers, but the conference arranges their duration. The bishops hold office during good behavior. The General Conference is the Legislative, and the bishops, presiding elders, pastors, annual, district, and quarterly conferences, with the leaders' and stewards' meetings, and the general and local trustees, are the Executive Department. The ministerial orders are two: elder and deacon. The offices of the ministry and rank are in the order named,—bishop, sub-bishop, pastor, and sub-pastors. The ministry are classified as Effective, Supernumerary, Superannuate, and Local. The property of each congregation is deeded in trust for them to a Board of Local Trustees, who may sell, buy, or improve it for the use of said congregation. The stewards are officers whose labors are partly temporal and partly spiritual. They are entrusted with the raising of supplies, benevolence, and the support of the ministry. Exhorters are prayer-meeting leaders and general helpers in the work of the circuits.

Methodism began in a college and has been a great patron of education. It has been largely devoted to the educational and religious culture of the Colored people in the South and in Africa. There are sixteen conferences of Colored members in the M. E. Church—fifteen in the United States and one in Liberia. For the Liberian Conference two Colored bishops have been consecrated, viz.: Francis Burns and ex-President Thomas Wright Roberts, both deceased. The present bishops are all white, one of whom annually visits Africa. The same is true of conferences in Germany, Switzerland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, India, China, and Japan. The agency by which the Church prosecutes this work is the Missionary, Church Extension, Freedmen's Aid, Education, and Sunday-school Union societies. Books and periodicals are amply supplied by its own publishing house, which is the largest religious publishing house in the world.

In the sixteen conferences there are 225,000 members, 200,000 Sunday-school scholars, 3,500 day scholars, one medical, three law, and seven theological colleges, and twelve seminaries. There is $500,000 in school and $2,000,000 in church and parsonage property owned by the Colored membership! The Colored members elect their own representatives to the General Conference, and are fully represented in all the work of the Church.

At the present time the Rev. Marshall W. Taylor, D. D., and the Rev. Wm. M. Butler are the most prominent men in the Church. Marshall William Boyd (alias) Taylor was born July 1, 1846, at Lexington, Fayette County, Kentucky, of poor, uneducated, but respectable parents. He was the fourth in a family of five children, three of whom were boys, viz.: George Summers, Francis Asbury, and himself; and two girls, Mary Ellen and Mary Cathrine. He is of Scotch-Irish and Indian descent on his father's side. Hon. Samuel Boyd, of New York; Joseph Boyd, of Virginia; and Lieut.-Gov. Boyd, of Kentucky, were blood-relations of his, and all descended from the "Clan Boyd" of Scotland. His mother was of African and Arabian stock. His grandmother, on his mother's side, Phillis Ann, was brought from Madagascar when a little girl, and became the slave of Mr. Alexander Black, a Kentucky farmer, who at his death willed his slaves free. His mother, Nancy Ann, thus obtained her freedom, and by the terms of the will she was put to the millinery trade, which she fully mastered, and meantime obtained an elementary knowledge of reading, writing, and arithmetic. She married Albert Summers, and bore to him two children, viz., George Summers and Mary Catharine. He ran away to prevent being sold, and she afterward married Samuel Boyd, to whom she bore three children, viz., Francis Asbury, Marshall William, and Mary Ellen. His father, Samuel, was the son of Hon. Samuel Boyd, of New York. He was noted for his independence of character; was a valuable but unruly slave. He was allowed an opportunity to purchase his freedom, and this he began to do, and had paid $250, three fourths of the price, when his master sold him to Tennessee. He promptly ran away from his new master, but unwilling to forsake his family, went back to Kentucky. His master pursued and overtook him at Lexington, where he had stopped. He refused to go back to Tennessee, and once more was permitted to select a master, and finally to again contract for his freedom, which he this time succeeded in obtaining. In consequence of his mother's emancipation, Marshall was free when he first saw the light of day. By occupation his father was a hemp-breaker, rope-maker, and farmer. The last he elected to follow after he was free. He employed his boys as farmers, but his mother strenuously opposed it, wishing better opportunities than could be thus afforded for their education. She at length succeeded in carrying her point.

In religion his father at first inclined to the Baptists, of which Church he became a deacon in the congregation of Rev. Mr. Ferrill, of Pleasant Green Church, Lexington. Later he became dissatisfied with the Baptists, and united with the African Methodists at Frankfort, Ky. He finally went back to the Baptist Church and died in that faith.

Marshall's mother, and all her people, so far as known, were Methodists. His early training and first and only religious impressions were Methodistic, which Church, after his conversion, he joined. His father had no knowledge of letters, so that all his home instruction came from his mother. Her text-books were the Bible, Methodist Catechism, and Webster's Elementary Spelling Book. And in these young Marshall became very proficient. He afterward attended school daily to Rev. John Tibbs, an African Methodist preacher, who came from Cincinnati to Lexington to teach free children and such of the slaves as would be permitted to attend. Some masters granted this permission, but the greater number refused it. Finally, some "poor white" fellows, unable to own slaves themselves, mobbed the teacher, rode him on a rail, tarred, feathered, and drove him from town. They were called black Indians. It was impossible to secure another teacher in Lexington for a day school, but Mr. George Perry, an intelligent free Colored man, had the courage to teach Sunday-school, in the Branch Methodist Church. It is now called Asbury M. E. Church. Marshall attended, as did his mother and brothers. In 1854 the family moved to Louisville, looking for a school. Finding none there, they continued their journey about fifty miles above there on the Ohio River, and landed at Ghent, a little village in Carroll County, Ky., opposite Vevey, Indiana. They indulged a hope that the children would be allowed to attend the public schools at Vevey, but they were doomed in this expectation. They spent two years at Ghent. Marshall and his brother obtained instruction during this period from the little white children who attended school, after hours, using "an old hay loft back of a Mr. Sanders's Tavern" for a recitation-room, and paying their teachers with cakes and candies bought with odd pennies gathered here and there.

On the 1st of August, 1856, there was an Emancipation celebration at Dayton, Ohio. Frederick Douglass was advertised to speak, and other eminent Abolitionists were expected to participate. Marshall's mother attended it. Soon after her return several slaves mysteriously disappeared from the vicinity of Ghent. Among them was a very valuable family belonging to Esquire Craig, of the village. Suspicion fastened on the old lady who had been off among the "Abolitionists." She was indicted by the Grand Jury, and thirty-six men filed into her cabin, and while she lay sick in bed, read the indictment to her. They ordered her to leave the place. She refused to go, claimed her innocence, but to no purpose. "They chased Francis with guns and dogs on the public streets in daylight; shaddowed the cabin and gave unmistakable evidence of a diabolical purpose." She soon after returned to Louisville.

Young Marshall became a messenger in the law firm of J. B. Kincaid and John W. Barr. Here his chances were good, both of these gentlemen aiding him in his studies. He did his work after school hours at the office, and attended a school which was kept in the "Centre Street Colored Methodist Church," until it closed.

Rev. Henry Henderson, a Colored Methodist preacher, now opened a school in Centre Street, and Marshall was duly enrolled among his pupils. On his retirement, Mrs. Elizabeth Cumings, a highly cultured and pious lady, taught a private school on Grayson, between Sixth and Seventh streets. He now went to her. She died soon after, when he was sent to a Mr. William H. Gibson, who had already opened a school on Seventh, between Jefferson and Green streets, in an old carpenter shop. Here he continued until 1861.

In 1866 Mr. Taylor opened a Freedmen's School at Hardinsburg Breckenridge Co., Ky. This was in an old church, the property of the M. E. Church South. It had been donated for church purposes by George Blanford. If used otherwise it was to revert to the donor. A Negro school was obnoxious to the community. His was the first there had ever been in the village, and notwithstanding the white people had long since abandoned the property to the Colored people this question was now raised in order to break up the school. It did not succeed, as they easily proved that the original intent of the donor was not violated, since Colored people still used the property as a church. Failing in this the school was tormented by ruffians. Pepper was rolled up in cotton, set on fire, and hurled into the room to set every one coughing. Finally threats of personal violence were made if he did not leave, but Mr. Taylor armed himself, defied the enemies of freedom, and stayed. At last, on Christmas evening, Dec. 25, 1867, the house was blown up with powder. The arrangement was to set off the blast with a slow match so as to catch the house full of people, there being a school exhibition that night. The explosion took place at 11:30 P.M., but owing to the excitement occasioned by the novelty of such a thing as a "Negro School Exhibition," the crowd had gathered much earlier than announced. The programme was completed before 11 P.M., and by this accident the school and teacher were saved. The old wreck still remains a monument to color prejudice.

By the aid of the Freedmen's Bureau another school-house was soon built, and the school proceeded. This was followed by a meeting-house. The white people, whose sentiments were now rapidly turning, subscribed liberally toward it.

In 1868 an educational convention was held at Owensboro, in Davies Co., Ky., of which Mr. Taylor was elected president. He soon after wrote a manual for Colored schools, which was generally used in that section. In 1869 he attended the first Colored political convention ever held in Kentucky, at Major Hall in Frankfort. He was one of the Educational Committee, and submitted a report. This year he was also a member of a convention at Jackson Street Church, Louisville, which inaugurated the movement for the Lexington M. E. Conference. He was licensed as a local preacher this year by Rev. Hanson Tolbert at Hardinsburg, and was assisted in the study of theology by Rev. R. G. Gardiner, J. H. Lennin, and Dr. R. S. Rust. He went to Arkansas as a missionary teacher and preacher at the call of Rev. W. J. Gladwin, and remained there one year. He organized several societies, of the Church, taught school at Midway, Forrest City, and Wittsburg; took part in the political campaign of that year; and was nominated, but declined to run, for Representative from Saint Frances County.

He preached in Texas, Indian Territory, and Missouri; was put in peril by the Ku Klux at Hot Springs; took the chills and returned to Ky., in 1871. He was then appointed to the Litchfield Circuit, Southwestern Kentucky. In 1872 he united with the Lexington Conference of M. E. Church on trial. He was ordained a deacon by Bishop Levi Scott at Maysville, Ky., and sent to Coke Chapel, Louisville, Ky., and Wesley Chapel, Jeffersonville, Indiana. He remained in this charge three years, during which time he published the monthly "Kentucky Methodist," and wrote extensively for the press. He was elected assistant secretary, editor of the printed minutes of the conference, and finally secretary. In 1875 he was sent as pastor to Indianapolis, Ind. He was ordained elder by Bishop Wiley at Lexington in 1876, and returned to Indianapolis. He took an active part in the political campaign of 1876, and was sent to Union Chapel, Cincinnati, 1877-8. In 1879 the faculty of Central Tennessee College, at Nashville, Tennessee, conferred upon him the title and credentials of a Doctor of Divinity. He wrote the life of Rev. Geo. W. Downing.

In 1879 Dr. Taylor was appointed Presiding Elder of the Ohio District, Lexington Conference. In 1880 he was sent as fraternal delegate from the M. E. to the A. M. E. General Conference at St. Louis; he having been previously elected lay delegate to the General Conference of the M. E. Church in Brooklyn, New York, in 1879. He was the youngest member of that body. Upon his motion fraternal representatives were sent to the various Colored denominations of Methodists. He was appointed in 1881 as a delegate from the M. E. Church to the Ecumenical Conference at London, England. He was the caucus nominee of the Colored delegates to the General Conference in Cincinnati in 1880 for bishop. He was always opposed to caste discriminations in Church, State, or society. He has opposed Colored conferences and a Colored bishop as tending to perpetuate discriminations. He does not oppose the election of Colored men, but wishes that every honor may fall upon them because of merit and not on account of their color. He has become famous as an eloquent preacher, safe teacher, ready speaker, and earnest worker; always aiming to do the greatest good to the greatest number. Certainly the Methodist Episcopal Church has reason to be proud of Marshall W. Taylor.

In this Church there are many other worthy and able Colored preachers. The relations they sustain to the eloquent, scholarly, and pious white clergymen of the denomination are pleasant and beneficial. It is an education. And the fact that the best pulpits of white men are opened to the Colored preachers is a prophecy that race antagonisms in the Christian Church, so tenacious and harmful, are to perish speedily.

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE COLORED BAPTISTS OF AMERICA.

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THE Baptist Church has always been a purely democratic institution. With no bishops or head-men, except such as derive their authority from the consent of the governed, this Church has been truly independent and self-governing in its spirit. Its only Head is Christ, and its teachers such as are willing to take "the Word of God as the Man of their Counsel." From the time of the introduction of the Baptist Church into North America down to the present time, the Colored people have formed a considerable part of its membership. The generous, impartial, and genuine Christian spirit of Roger Williams had a tendency, at the beginning, to keep out of the Church the spirit of race prejudice. But the growth of slavery carried with it, as a logical result, the idea that the slave's presence in the Christian Church was a rebuke to the system. For conscience' sake the slave was excluded, and to oblige the feelings of those who transferred the spirit of social caste from gilded drawing-rooms to cushioned pews, even the free Negro was conducted to the organ-loft.

The simplicity of the Negro led him to the faith of the Baptist Church; but being denied fellowship in the white congregations, he was compelled to provide churches for himself. In Virginia, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Mississippi the Colored Baptists were numerous. In the other States the Methodists and Catholics were numerous. There were few ministers of note at the South; but New England, the Middle States, and the West produced some very able Baptist preachers. The Rev. Richard Anderson, of St. Louis, Missouri, was a man of exalted piety, consummate ability, and of almost boundless influence in the West. He was the pastor of a large church, and did much to mould and direct the interests of his people throughout Missouri. He was deeply revered by his own people, and highly respected by the whites. When he died, the entire city of St. Louis was plunged into profound mourning, and over three hundred carriages—many belonging to the wealthiest families in the city—followed his body to the place of interment.

In Ohio the Rev. Charles Satchell, the Rev. David Nickens, the Rev. W. P. Newman, the Rev. James Poindexter, and the Rev. H. L. Simpson were the leading clergymen in the Colored Baptist churches. Cincinnati has had for the last half century excellent Baptist churches, and an intelligent and able ministry. There are several associations embracing many live churches.

In Kentucky the Colored Baptists are very numerous, and own much valuable property; but Virginia seems to have more Baptists among its great population of Colored people than any other State in the South. There are a dozen or more in Richmond, including the one presided over by the famous John Jasper. One of them has, it is said, three thousand members(?). But the District of Columbia has more Colored churches for its area and population than any other place in the United States. There are at least twenty-five Baptist churches in the District, and some of them have interesting histories. The Nineteenth Street Baptist Church is as an intelligent a society of Christian people of color as there is to be found in any city in the country. Its pulpit has always been occupied by the ablest ministers in the country. The Revs. Sampson White, Samuel W. Madden, and Duke W. Anderson were men of education and marked ability. And there is little doubt but what Duke W. Anderson was the ablest, most distinguished clergyman of color in the United States. And for his work's sake he deserves well of history.

Duke William Anderson was born April 10, 1812, in the vicinity of Lawrenceville, Lawrence County, in the State of Illinois, of a Negro mother by a white father. His father, lately from North Carolina, fell under Gen. Harrison fighting the Indians. Like so many other great men he was born in an obscure place—a wigwam. At the time of his father's death he was quite a young baby. He was now left to the care of a mother who, in many respects, was like her husband, bold and courageous for the truth, and yet as gentle as a child. It is peculiarly trying and difficult for a mother who has all the comforts of modern city life, to train and educate her boys for the duties of life; and if so, how much more trying and difficult must it have been for a mother on the North-western frontiers, seventy years ago, to train her boys?

Destitute of home and its comforts, without friends or money; no farm, school, or church, Mrs. Anderson began to train her two boys, John Anderson and D. W. Anderson. Of the former, little or nothing is known, save that he was the only brother of D. W. Anderson.

True to the instincts of her motherly heart, Mrs. Anderson was determined to remain upon the spot purchased and consecrated by the blood of her lamented husband. She could not divorce herself from the approximate idea and object of her husband's life and death. He had turned from the comforts of a happy home; had chosen hardships rather than ease that he might realize the dream of his youth, and the object of his manly endeavors—the right of suffrage to all. Her children could not build their play-house of Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, or Southey. All the instruction Duke William obtained came from his mother. She was very large and healthy. Her complexion was of perfect black. She was possessed of excellent judgment, patience, and industry. She stored the young mind of her boy with useful agricultural knowledge, of which she possessed a large amount.

An education does not consist in acquiring lessons, obtaining a simple, abstract, objective knowledge of certain sciences. It is more than this. It consists, also, in being able to apply and use rightly a given amount of knowledge. And though D. W. Anderson was never permitted to enter college, yet, what he got he got thoroughly, and used at the proper time to the best advantage.

Nature was his best teacher. While yet a very young boy he was awed by her splendors, and attracted by the complicated workings of her manifold laws. He began to study the innumerable mysteries which met him in every direction. He heard God in the rippling water, in the angry tempest, in the sighing wind, and in the troops of stars which God marshals upon the plains of heaven. In the study of nature he exulted. He sat in her velvet lap, sported by her limpid waters, acquainted himself perfectly with her seasons, and knew the coming and going of every star.

God was training this man for the great mission which he afterward so faithfully performed. No soul that was ever filled with such grand and humane ideas as was that of Duke William Anderson can be crushed. He knew no boundaries for his soul,—except God on one side and the whole universe on the other. He was as free in thought and feeling as the air he inhaled, or the birds in the bright sky over his head. His soul had for many years communed with the God of nature; had been taught by the mighty workings of truth, feeling, and genius within, and by the world without, that he was not to be confined to earth forever, but that beyond the deep blue sky, into which he so much longed to peer, there dwelt the Creator of all things, and there the home of the good! Like the "wise men of the East,"—knowing no other God but the God of nature,—his primitive ideas of religion were naturally based upon nature. In that wild and barren territory nature was impressive, desolate, and awful. The earth, air, and sky incited him to thought and stimulated his imagination. Every appearance, every phenomenon—the storm, the thunder,—speak the prophecies of God. He was filled with great thoughts and driven by grand ideas.

It is difficult to compute the value of the mother to the child. It is the mother who loves, because she has suffered. And this seems to be the great law of love. Not a triumph in art, literature, or jurisprudence—from the story of Homer to the odes of Horace, from the times of Bacon and Leibnitz to the days of Tyndall and Morse—that has not been obtained by toil and suffering! The mother of Anderson, having suffered so much in her loneliness and want, knew how to train her boy,—the joy of her life. And he in return knew how to appreciate a mother's love. He remembered that to her he owed every thing,—his life, his health, and his early training. He remembered that in childhood she had often, around their little camp-fire, enchanted his youthful mind by the romance of the sufferings and trials of herself and husband. And now finding himself a young man he was determined to change the course of their life.

No work so thoroughly develops the body and mind, and is so conducive to health, as farming; and, perhaps, none so independent. Anderson was naturally healthy and strong, so that farming agreed with him. By this he made a comfortable living, and soon demonstrated to his aged mother that she had not labored in vain, nor spent her strength for naught.

For a number of years he farmed. His motto was "excelsior" in whatever he engaged, and in farming he realized success.

As the father of Duke William Anderson had fallen under the U. S. flag, it became the duty of the Government to care for his widow and orphans. Accordingly, Duke William was sent to an Illinois school where he received the rudiments of a Western education. A Western education did not consist in reading poetry, or in examining Hebrew roots, but in reading, writing, spelling, arithmetic, geography, and history. There were no soft seats, no beautifully frescoed walls, dotted with costly maps, or studded with beautiful pictures; not a school with a dozen beautiful rooms, heated by hot air. In those days a Western school-house was erected by the side of some public highway, remote from the town. It was constructed of logs,—not of the logs that have lost their roughness by going through the saw-mill, but logs cut by the axe of the hardy frontiersman. The axe was the only tool needed to fit the timber for the building. The building was about twelve feet in height, and about sixteen by twenty. The cracks were often left open, and sometimes closed by chips and mud. The floor was made of split logs with the flat side up. At one end of the building was a fireplace and chimney occupying the whole end of the house. At each end of the fireplace were laid two large stones upon which to rest the ends of the logs of wood, under all of which were laid closely large pieces of flat stones covered with an inch or two of mud. At the other end of the building was a door. It was constructed of thinly split pieces of logs held together by pieces of hickory withes which crossed each end of the door. This door was hung upon wooden hinges, one part of which, instead of being fastened to the door by screws, was fastened by little wooden pegs. The step at the door was a short piece of log flattened a little on the top and braced on the under side by small stones and pieces of chips. The roof was made of long pieces of split timber, the flat side out and the edges smoothed by the axe in order to make them lie snugly.

Such was the school-house in which D. W. Anderson was educated. And it may be that the plain school in which he was educated loaned him that modesty, plainness, and unostentatious air, which were among the many remarkable traits in his character. The circumstances and society by which boys are surrounded help to mould their character and determine their future. To a healthy and vigorous body was coupled a clear and active mind. He loved knowledge, and was willing to buy it at any price—willing to make any sacrifice. He was an industrious student, and possessed great power of penetration and acquisition. And every thing he read he remembered. The greatest difficulty with students is that they fail to apply themselves. A man may have the ability to accomplish a given amount of work and yet that work can never be accomplished except by the severest effort. It is one thing to possess a negative power, but it is quite another thing to possess a positive power. In this world we are set over against all external laws and forces. We are to assume the offensive. We are to climb up to the stars by microscopes. We are to measure this earth by our mathematics. We are to penetrate its depths and lift to the sun its costly treasures. We are to acquaint ourselves with the workings of the manifold laws which lie about us. If we would know ourselves, understand our relation to God, we must see after the requisite knowledge. Suppose that Duke William Anderson had despaired of ever receiving an education; sat down by the way in life and said: "There is no use of troubling myself, I cannot get what I desire. I am destined to be ignorant and weak all the days of my life; and if there is any good thing for me it will come to me. I will sit here and wait." Would the world ever have known of Anderson? His life would have shed no perfume; his name would have been unknown and his grave would have been forgotten.

But it was that courage which never knows defeat, it was that devotion that never wavers, it was that assiduity, and it was that patience that is certain to triumph, which bore him on to a glorious end, as a summer wind bears up a silver cloud. At the age of seventeen he began to teach school. What Colored man would have essayed to teach school on the frontiers fifty years ago? But D. W. Anderson was born to rule. He was of commanding presence, full of confidence and earnestness. He entered upon his new duties full of hope and joy. This was something new. There was a great deal of difference between handling the hoe and the pen. He found that there was a great difference between the farm and the school-house. But he was one of those boys who do every thing with all their might, and he was at once at home, and soon became master of his new situation.

Three laborious years were occupied in teaching. And they were years of profit to teacher as well as to pupil. He labored hard to be thorough; and he greatly improved and finished his own education during his teaching.

About this time young Anderson met, courted, and married Miss Ruth Ann Lucas.

Anderson soon made all necessary arrangements, and the nuptial ceremony was solemnized by the village parson on the 30th of September, 1830. With his bride he now settled down at home. For some years he lived the life of a farmer. His mother was riveted to the spot where her devoted husband fell at the hands of a besotted Indian. But her son was of a progressive spirit. He longed to leave the old home for one more comfortable. How strange that the old should sit by the grave of the past, while the young never weary of chasing some vague fancy!

He bought a tract of land, cleared it, and opened up a farm. He planted a large orchard; became the owner of seven horses and all the implements necessary to farming.

By his own industry and perseverance he had now acquired a neat little home; on his farm he raised enough produce for the consumption of his family, and still there was a large quantity left for the market. Apples, potatoes, wheat, corn, and other commodities brought him handsome returns.

On this farm were born five children, four of whom lived to adult age. The oldest child, Luther Morgan, was born October 10, 1831. The second child, Mary Catharine, was born in 1833. The third, George Washington, was born in 1835. The fourth, Elizabeth, was born in 1837. And the fifth and last child was born on the night of September 4, 1839, when, also, the mother and child died.

This sad event filled a hitherto happy home with gloom, and bowed a strong heart with grief. Anderson was a man possessed of a very tender nature, though he was manly and resolute. His heart was fixed upon his wife, and this sad providence smote him heavily.

During all these years, from his youth up, he had been very profane. He knew no Sabbath, worshipped no God, and was himself the highest law. He was filled with a grand religious sentiment, and only needed the grace of God to bring it out, and the love of God to show him where he stood.

The object of his youthful affection was gone. The faithful woman who had walked for nineteen years by his side was no more; her eyes were closed to mortal things, and she had ceased to be. He followed her body to the grave, and there dropped a silent tear for her to whom he had given his heart. It was the first funeral of anyone related to him, and its lessons were sharply cut into his heart.

He returned to a desolate home, where the sad faces of motherless children told that one whom they loved, and who had made home happy, was gone.

His mind now turned to religious matters. He began to think of the home beyond, of Jesus, who died for sinners, and wondered if he would ever be able to see the loved one beyond the tide of death. As he dreamed of immortality, longed for heaven, and wondered if Jesus were his Saviour, he was filled with a deep sense of sin. He felt more deeply a sense of sin. He felt more and more that he was unworthy of the Saviour's love; and if he had his just dues, he would be "assigned a portion among the lost."

For a long time he was bowed down under the weight of his sins, and at length he found peace through the blood of Christ. He was renewed. The avaricious man became liberal, the implacable enemy became the forgiving friend, and the man of cursing a man of prayer. But it was impossible for him to cease to grieve; so he thought he would sell the farm and seek another home. The farm was sold, the horses and tools, and every thing converted into money. The children were bound out, and all arrangements were perfected to seek another home.

He paid a visit to Alton, Illinois, where he spent two or three years. In those days Alton was the city par excellence of Illinois, and toward it flowed the tide of emigration. So favorably was he impressed with Alton, that he was determined to make it his home. Accordingly, he began to make preparations for moving the children. In the meanwhile he formed the acquaintance of a widow lady in Alton with whom he became very much pleased. She was a tall, handsome-looking yellow woman, of cultivated manners, and of pleasing address. Anderson's wife had been dead three or four years.

It was now August 17, 1842, and the hand and heart of Anderson were offered Mrs. Mary Jane Ragens and accepted. With his new companion he now returned to the scenes of his early days and to the four children who joyfully awaited his return. He had made up his mind to settle in Alton. He and his new companion began to prepare for the journey. The family now consisted of the four children of Anderson and two children of his wife, making a family of six besides the two heads.

During the time that intervened between the death of his first wife and his engagement to the second, he taught school in Vincennes, Indiana, Alton and Brookton, Illinois. The old home stood upon the Wabash River, and was quite upon the line that divided the two States,—Indiana and Illinois. His own children went to his school, and were carried across the river on his back. On the other bank stood the log school-house of which he was principal.

In those, days it was a matter of some comment to see a Colored man who dared write his name or tell his age, but to see one who was actually a schoolmaster was the marvel of the times. His teaching was a matter of comment in Vincennes, but Vincennes was only a little country town. But to go to Alton,—that city of great fame, then,—and teach school, was an undertaking that required strong nerves. D. W. Anderson had them. He never allowed himself to think that he was any person other than a man and citizen clothed with all civil rights and armed with God-given prerogatives. And so commanding was he, that a man who stood in his presence instantly felt him a superior. Moreover, the heated feeling and public sentiment which, on the night of November 7, 1837, wrested from the hand of God,—to whom alone vengeance belongeth,—a life, were not yet abated. Lovejoy, a peaceable citizen, had been deprived of free speech and struck down by the knife of the assassin; and could it be expected that a Negro would be spared? The times were exciting and dangerous, and yet Anderson was determined to take his place and work on in the path of duty, never wincing, but leaving the results with God.

Before in his quiet home and farm life, nature was his peculiar study. He had studied man in studying himself, but in the city of Alton he could study men. He loved to walk through its long streets, watch its hurrying pedestrians, and learn the manifold manifestations of city life.

Having been converted just after the death of his first wife, but never having connected himself with any church, he now joined the A. M. E. Church of Alton. His views from the first were Baptistic, but circumstances placed him among the Methodists. The elder in charge was the powerful preacher, the successful revivalist, and the eminently pious man, Rev. Shadrack Stewart. Some misunderstanding arose between the minister in charge and some of the members, which resulted in the withdrawal of the pastor, Rev. S. Stewart, Anderson and family, and quite a number of the leading members. Minister and all connected themselves with the Baptists. Anderson used often to say to his family: "That move placed me at home." He was indeed at home, and stayed there until he was called to his heavenly rest! He loved very much to study the Bible, and to meditate upon its great truths. The more he studied it the clearer duty seemed and the deeper and purer his love grew for that beneficent Being whom he owned as Lord and King.

It was now 1843. He felt that it was his duty to enter the Gospel ministry. Naturally a modest man, he shrank somewhat from this voice of God; but finally, in 1844, submitted to ordination. He was ordained by the Rev. John Anderson, father of the late Richard Anderson, of St. Louis, or by the Rev. John Livingston, of Illinois, though it is a matter of some doubt as to who was present at his ordination.

He now moved to Upper Alton, and pitched his tent under the shadow of Shurtleff College. His aim was always to excel. He had absorbed every thing that had come within his reach, and now he had placed himself where he could rub against "College men."

Some men have to study a great deal to get a very little; they lack the power of mental absorption, and, consequently, have to wade far out into the river of knowledge in order to feel the benefits of the invigorating waters. Not so with Anderson; he was an indefatigable student. He was always willing to be taught by any person who was able to impart knowledge. Every new word that saluted his ear was forced into his service; never mechanically, but always in its proper place. If he learned a word to-day, to-morrow he would use it in its grammatical relation to a sentence. He had no time for vacation; no mental cessation, but it was one unceasing struggle for knowledge. And no doubt his approximate relation to Shurtleff College helped to impart a certain healthy tone and solidity to his style as a writer and preacher which were ever strikingly manifest.

In a short time he moved out from Alton about twelve miles to the town of Woodburn, Madison County, where he remained for a year, during which time he taught school and preached occasionally. In 1845 he bought an eighty-acre farm on Wood River, about five miles from Alton. He moved his family on the farm, and began to make improvements. After the farm had been put in good working condition, it was not hard for Luther, the eldest child, to manage it. It might seem strange to the boys of to-day, who are dwarfed by cities and cramped by a false civilization, to know that Luther, a boy of fourteen, could follow the plow and swing the cradle. But, nevertheless, his father could trust most of the work of the farm to these young hands.

Duke William Anderson was a civilizer and a reformer. Wherever he placed his foot there were thrift and improvement. He never was satisfied with himself, or that which he did. He always felt when he had done a thing that he could have done it better. He never preached a sermon but what he felt that he ought to preach the next one better. In his great brain were the insatiable powers of civilization. He was prompt, rapid, decisive, and sagacious, working up to his ideal standard. It was not his object to simply improve and help himself; he was far from such selfishness. The basis of his reformatory and benevolent operations was as broad as humanity and as solid as granite. He never entered a community without the deep feeling that it should be made better, and never lived in one except his warm heart and willing hand went forth to minister to and sympathize with all who were in need.

He felt keenly the bitter prejudice which pervaded the community from which he had just moved, and was sensible of the weakness of the few free Colored citizens who lived in that portion of the State. Wood River was a healthy place to live; and the land was cheap and rich. He was not shut up to any selfish motives, but was planning for the good of his people. He knew that "in union there is strength," and if he could get a number of families to move on Wood River he could form a settlement, and thus bring the people together in religion and politics, in feeling and sentiment.

This plan was no idle dream. In due time he gave notice, and offered inducements, to the people to come. And they came from every section; and in a few years it had grown to be a large and prosperous settlement.

Duke William Anderson was the central figure in this community. His colossal form, his clear mind, and excellent judgment, placed him at the head of educational and religious matters. He was parson, schoolmaster, and justice. All questions of theology were submitted to his judgment, from which there was no appeal. All social and political feuds were placed before him, and his advice would heal the severest schisms and restore the most perfect harmony.

He now threw his great soul into the work of organization. He was filled with a grand idea. He felt that the purity and intelligence of the community depended upon their knowledge of the Bible and the preaching of the Gospel. It was a grand idea, though he had to work upon a small scale. It was this idea that made the Israelites victorious; and Anderson was determined to impress upon this community this primal truth. He knew that in knowledge only is there safety, and in science alone can certainty be found. Before this idea every thing must bow, and around it were to cluster, not only the hopes of that little community, but the prayers of four million bondmen. He was confident that in God he would triumph, and in Him was his trust.

The work was begun in the family circle. One evening it would be at brother Anderson's house, and the next evening at another brother's house, and so on until the meetings had gone around the whole community. A deep work of grace was in progress. The whole community felt the pervading influence of the Spirit, and large results followed. Anderson was wrought upon powerfully. He felt to reconsecrate himself to the Master, and live a more faithful life. This feeling manifested itself in the lives of those who were professors of religion, and the ungodly were anxious about their salvation.

From a very few believers the company of the redeemed had largely increased. One house would not accommodate them, and it became necessary for them to hold their meetings outdoors. It became very evident that this company of believers ought to be organized into a church, and a pastor placed over them. Duke William Anderson was the man to do this work, and, seeing the necessity of it, he immediately organized a Baptist church.

He was a man who never desired to escape difficult duties—rather, he always was on hand when hard burdens were to be borne. He approached duty as something that, though at the time hard, brought peace in the end. He loved the approbation of conscience, and never sought to turn away from her teachings.

It is a task seldom, if ever, coveted by the ministers of to-day, to attempt the building of a church edifice, though wealth, art, and all modern facilities await their beck.

And one can easily imagine what a formidable task it must have been to attempt the building of a church thirty years ago. He organized a church out of those who had accepted the Gospel. And the next work was the building of a house of worship. He put his great hand to this work, and in a short time the house was completed and his people worshipping under their own vine and fig-tree.

The house was unique, spacious, and comfortable, all in keeping with the plain people and their unpretentious pastor.

There is a great deal in discipline, and Anderson knew it. Before the organization of his church the people had been placed under no discipline or charged with any special work. But now their leader began the work of church discipline and practical preaching. The feeling that every person was his own man, independent and free, under the preaching of Anderson, gave way to the feeling that they were members of one body, and Christ the head of that body. The unity of the church was preached with great earnestness, and followed by large results. It soon became evident that Duke William Anderson was no ordinary man, and his fame began to spread. He had sought no publicity, but in secret had toiled on in the path of duty.

During his labors in building a meeting-house and organizing a church he had relinquished his hold upon the school; but now as the church was erected and he had more time, he was against his will urged into the school-room again. In the school-room he was as faithful as he was in the pulpit. He sought, with marvellous earnestness, to do with all his might that which was committed to his hands; and all his labors were performed as if they were being performed for himself.

He was at this time pastor of a church, teacher of a school, and owner of an eighty acre farm. If he were going to slight any work, it would not be that of another, but his own. He watched the growth of his little church with an apostolical eye, and nipped every false doctrine in the bud. His excellent knowledge of human nature facilitated his work in the church. He knew every man, woman, and child. He made himself familiar with their circumstances and wants, and always placed himself in complete sympathy with any and all of their circumstances. He consequently won the confidence, love, and esteem of his people. In his school he was watchful and patient. He studied character, and classified his pupils; and was thereby enabled to deal with each pupil as he knew their temperament demanded. Some children are tender, affectionate, and obedient; while others are coarse, ugly, and insubordinate. Some need only to have the wrong pointed out, while others need the rod to convince them of bad conduct. And happy is that teacher who does not attempt to open every child's heart with the same key, or punish each with the same rod.

If there is one quality more than another that the minister needs, it is downright earnestness—perfect sympathy with those to whom he preaches. What does it amount to if a man preach unless he feels what he preaches? Certainly no one can be moved or edified. But Anderson was not a cold, lifeless man. He loved to preach, though he felt a deep sense of unfitness. And it can be truly said of his little church, as was said of the early church: "And believers were the more added to the Lord, multitudes both of men and women."

It was seen by the prophetic eye of Anderson that an association would be the means of bringing the people together. Accordingly he went to work to organize an association that would take into its arms all the feeble communities or churches that had no pastor. In due time all arrangements were perfected, and a call issued for the neighboring churches to send their pastor and two delegates to sit in council with the Salem Baptist Church on Wood River, to consider the propriety of calling into existence such an organization. After the usual preliminary services, Rev. D. W. Anderson stated the object of the meeting, and urged the immediate action of the council in the matter. After the usual amount of debate incident to such an occasion, the proper steps were taken for the organization of an association to be called the "Wood River Baptist Association," with Rev. Duke W. Anderson as its first Moderator, to meet on Wood River annually. What a triumph! that day was the proudest of his life! He had spoken to the poor disheartened Baptists for fifty miles around, who were cold and indifferent to the Master's cause: "Awake! and stand upon your feet! Come with me to help the Lord against the mighty! Let us organize for the conflict. There is much to do; so, let us be about our Master's work." The call sent forth breathed new life into the people, and was the signal for united effort in the cause of the Lord.

It was not enough that an association was formed, it was not enough that a few churches were represented in that association; but it must do definite work. It must organize where organization was needed; it must send out missionaries into the destitute places, and give the Gospel to the poor. Thus Anderson reasoned; and the association heard him. Gradually the Wood River Association grew and extended its workings throughout the entire State of Illinois.

It was evident that the associational gatherings were growing so large that it was impossible to accommodate them. He advised the people to build quarters sufficient to accommodate all. Accordingly two or three rows of small houses were erected for the people to live in each year during the time the association was in session. People now came yearly from every part of the State. The great distances did not detain them. Like the Jews who returned to Jerusalem every year to attend the feast, they were glad when the time came to rest from their accustomed duties and journey toward Wood River. It was a delightful gathering. Brother ministers met and compared notes; while young men and maidens gently ministered at the tables, and led the prayer-meetings.

They enjoyed those meetings. There were no conventionalities or forms to check the spirit of Christian love. There was perfect liberty. There were no strangers; for they were the children of one common father. They were as one family, and had all things in common. The utmost order and harmony characterized their gatherings. Not a cross word escaped a single lip. Not a rude act, on the part of the boys, could be seen. Boys, in those days, had the profoundest respect for their seniors, and held a minister of the Gospel in all the simplicity of a boy's esteem.

In the morning of the first day of their meeting the association was called to order by the "Moderator," and opened with prayer and a hymn. Then, after the usual business, a sermon was preached. In the afternoon a doctrinal sermon was preached and discussed; and in the evening a missionary sermon was delivered.

Like the Apostle Paul he could say to the ministers of his day, that he had labored more abundantly than they all. He worked with his hands and preached the Gospel, esteeming it an honor. The church over which he presided had grown to one hundred and fifty active members, besides a large and attentive congregation. This church had been gathered through his incomparable assiduity. He had come into their midst with a heart glowing with the love of God. He had shown himself an excellent farmer, faithful teacher, and consistent Christian. He had led one hundred and fifty souls to Christ. That was not all. In the pulpit he had taught them the fundamental principles of Christianity, and demonstrated those principles in his daily life. His royal manhood towered high over the community, until he became to the whole people a perfect measure of every thing that is lovely and of good report.

He had every thing just as he could wish. He was proprietor of an eighty-acre farm, pastor of a flourishing church, schoolmaster of the community, enthroned in the affections of the people for whose well-being he had worked for seven years,—he might have remained the unrivalled and undisputed king of Woodburn community. But considerations rising high above his mere personal interests, led him to make a great sacrifice in selling his farm, severing his relation as pastor and teacher with a people whom he loved dearly, and who regarded him with a sort of superstitious reverence. The object of the change was that he might move to Quincy, Ill., where he might give his children a thorough education. He secured a scholarship in Knox College for his eldest son, Luther Morgan Anderson, and permission for him to attend. He put his son George W., and daughter, Elizabeth Anderson, to study in the Missionary Institute near Quincy. He now gave his time to farming, preaching, missionary service, and underground railroad work. His son, George W., says, concerning Missionary Institute: "At Missionary Institute the atmosphere was more mild, but such was the continued pressure by the slave-holding border of Mo., offering large rewards for the heads of the Institution, as well for those who were known to be connected with the underground railroad, that the Institution after having done much good went down."

The years of his residence at Quincy were full of public excitement, peril, and strife. He was a spirited, progressive, and representative man. This was the time of the Illinois Prohibition Law, making it a criminal offence to aid or encourage a runaway slave. The slavery question was being sharply discussed in all quarters, and began to color and modify the politics of the day. Anderson was a sharp, ready, and formidable debater, and was the most prominent Colored man in that section of the country. He was gifted in the use of good English, had an easy flow of language, was master of the most galling satire, quick in repartee, prompt to see a weak point and use it to the best advantage. He was a pungent and racy writer, and for a number of years contributed many able articles to the "Quincy Whig." He never spared slavery. In the pulpit, in the public prints, and in private, he fought manfully against the nefarious traffic in human flesh.

Dangerous as was the position he took he felt himself on the side of truth, humanity, and God, and consequently felt that no harm could reach him. At this time, to the duties of farmer, pastor, and contributor he added the severe and perilous duty of a missionary. He canvassed the State, preaching and lecturing against slavery. Often he was confronted by a mob who defied him, bantered him, but he always spoke. He was in every sense the child of nature, endowed with herculean strength, very tall, with a face beaming with benevolence and intelligence. He appeared at his best when opposed, and was enabled by his commanding presence, his phenomenal voice, and burning eloquence to quiet and win the most obstreperous mob.

It was quite easy for a man to be carried away by the irresistible enthusiasm of the excited multitude, and think the rising of the animal spirits the impulses of his better nature. But, for a man to be moved from within, to feel the irresistible power of truth, to feel that except he obeys the voice of his better nature he is arraigned by conscience—though the whole world without is against him, such a man is a hero, deserving of the gratitude and praise of the world.

There were heroes in the days of Anderson, and he was worthy of the high place he held among them. He was possessed of genius of the highest order. He appreciated the times in which he lived. He was equal to the work of his generation, and did not shrink from any work howsoever perilous. He worked between the sluggish conservatism of the anti-slavery element on the one hand, and the violent, mobocratic slave element on the other. Hence, the school of religious and political sentiment to which he belonged had few disciples and encountered many hardships. It was a desperate struggle between an ignorant, self-seeking majority and an intelligent, self-sacrificing minority. It often appears that vice has more votaries than virtue, that might is greater than right, and that wrong has the right of way. But in the light of reason, history, and philosophy, we see the divinity of truth and the mortality of error. We look down upon the great spiritual conflict going on in this world—in society and government,—and seeing the mutations of fortune we think we see truth worsted, and sound the funeral requiem of our fondest hopes, our most cherished ideals.

But the mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fine. Time rewards the virtuous and patient. It was faith in God, united with a superior hope, that gave him strength in the darkest hours of the "irrepressible conflict."

He was a faithful and indefatigable worker; and the State Missionary Society honored him by thrice choosing him as State Missionary. About this time he became an active member of the "Underground Railroad." His presence, bearing, and high character carried conviction. He made men feel his superiority. He was, consequently, a safe counsellor and a successful manager. He was soon elevated to an official position, which he filled with honor and satisfaction. Many slaves were helped to their freedom by his efforts and advice. He was bold, yet discreet; wise without pedantry; humble without religious affectation; firm without harshness; kind without weakness.

The conflict between slavery and freedom grew hotter and hotter; and the spirit of intolerance became more general. Anderson had proven himself an able defender of human freedom and a formidable enemy to slavery. But it seemed as if his efforts in the great aggregate of good were unavailing. His high hopes of educating his children were blasted in the burning of Missionary Institute by a mob from Missouri. It was evident that the slave power would leave no stone unturned in order to accomplish their cowardly and inhuman designs. It was not enough to destroy the only school where all races could be educated together, to disturb the meetings of the few anti-slavery men who dared to discuss a question that they believed involved the golden rule and hence the well-being of the oppressed,—they put a price on his head. He was to be hung to the first tree if caught upon the sacred soil of Missouri. He was secretly, though closely watched. One of his sons writes: "He took a deep interest in the Underground Railroad in connection with a Mr. Turner and Vandorn of Quincy, and a Mr. Hunter and Payne of Missionary Institute. These gentlemen, I believe, with the exception of Mr. Payne, are alive and extensively known in the North."

He was not lacking in the qualities of moral or physical bravery. He could not be bought or bullied. He was unmovable when he felt he was right. The bitterest assaults of his enemies only drove him nearer his ideas, not from them. He might have lived and died in Quincy if he had not greatly desired the education of his children, who were denied such privileges in the destruction of the institute.

At this time intelligent, to say nothing of educated, ministers were few and far between. St. Louis was blessed with an excellent minister in the person of the Rev. Richard Anderson. He was a man of some education, fine manners, good judgment, and deep piety; beloved and respected by all classes both in and out of the church, white and black. The Rev. Galusha Anderson, D.D., who pronounced the funeral sermon over the remains of Richard Anderson, says he had the largest funeral St. Louis ever witnessed. His servant, who had been an attendant upon the ministrations of Richard Anderson, said mournfully, when asked by the doctor if they missed him: "Ah, sir, he led us as by a spider web!" Richard Anderson saw Duke William Anderson and loved him. He saw in the young man high traits of character, and in his rare gifts auguries of a splendid career. He saw the danger he lived in, the hopeless condition of public sentiment, and advised him to accept the pastoral charge of the Baptist church in Buffalo, N. Y., where also he could educate his children.

Buffalo was an anti-slavery stronghold. The late Gerrit Smith was chief of the party in that section of New York. By his vast wealth, his high personal character, his deeply-rooted convictions, his wide-spread and consistent opposition to slavery, he was the most conspicuous character in the State, and made many converts to the anti-slavery cause. Buffalo was the centre of anti-slavery operations. Many conventions and conferences were held there. It was only twenty-four miles to the Canadian boundaries, hence it was the last and most convenient station of the U. G. R. R.

It was now about 1854-1855. The anti-slavery sentiment was a recognized and felt power in the politics of the Nation. Anderson appeared in Buffalo just in time to participate in the debates that were rendering that city important. He took the pastoral charge of the Baptist church and high standing as a leader. He remained here quite two years or more, during which time he used the pulpit and the press as the vehicles of his invectives against slavery. He did not have to go to men, they went to him. He was a great moral magnet, and attracted the best men of the city. The white clergy recognized in him the qualities of a preacher and leader worthy of their admiration and recognition. The Rev. Charles Dennison and other white brethren invited him to their pulpits, where he displayed preaching ability worthy of the intelligent audiences that listened to his eloquent discourses.

His stay in Buffalo was salutary. By his industry and usefulness he became widely known and highly respected. And when he accepted a call from the Groghan Street Baptist Church, of Detroit, Michigan, his Buffalo friends were conscious that in his departure from them they sustained a very great loss.

It was now the latter part of 1857. The anti-slavery conflict was at its zenith. This controversy, as do all moral controversies, had brought forth many able men; had furnished abundant material for satire and rhetoric. This era presented a large and brilliant galaxy of Colored orators. There were Frederick Douglass—confessedly the historic Negro of America,—Charles L. Remond, Charles L. Reason, William Wells Brown, Henry Highland Garnett, Martin R. Delany, James W. C. Pennington, Robert Purvis, Phillip A. Bell, Charles B. Ray, George T. Downing, George B. Vashon, William C. Nell, Samuel A. Neale, William Whipper, Ebenezer D. Bassett, William Howard Day, William Still, Jermain W. Loguen, Leonard A. Grimes, John Sella Martin, and many others. Duke William Anderson belonged to the same school of orators.

The church at Detroit had been under the pastoral charge of the Rev. William Troy, who had accepted the pulpit of the Baptist church in Windsor, Canada West, and started to England to solicit funds to complete a beautiful edifice already in process of erection. At this time John Sella Martin had obtained considerable notoriety as an orator. He had canvassed the Western States in the interest of the anti-slavery cause, and was now residing in Detroit. He was baptized and ordained by Brethren Anderson and Troy, and took charge of the church at Buffalo.

Detroit lies in a salubrious atmosphere, upon Detroit River, not far from Lake Erie; and at this time was not lacking in a high social and moral atmosphere. The field was the most congenial he had yet labored in. He found an excellent church-membership, an intelligent and progressive people. He was heartily welcomed and highly appreciated. He entered into the work with zeal, and imparted an enthusiasm to the people. He developed new elements of strength in the church. He attracted a large, cultivated audience, and held them to the last day he remained in the city. His audience was not exclusively Colored: some of the best white families were regular attendants upon his preaching; and they contributed liberally to his support. Detroit had never seen the peer of Duke William Anderson in the pulpit. He did not simply attract large congregations on the Sabbath, but had a warm place in the affections of all classes, and a personal moral influence, which added much to the spirituality of the church. In every church, thus far, he had been blessed with a revival of religion, and souls had been added as "seals to his ministry." Detroit was no exception to the rule. Under his leadership, through his preaching and pastoral visitations the church was aroused, and the result a revival. Many were added to the church.