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.

It was now the spring of 1858. John Brown, the protomartyr of freedom, by his heroism, daring, intrepid perseverance, inspired,—swallowed with one great idea, had stirred all Kansas and Missouri to fear, and carried off eleven slaves to Canada and set them free. He had established his headquarters at Chatham, Canada West, and begun the work of organization preparatory to striking the blow at Harper's Ferry. Brown held his first convention at Chatham—only a few hours' ride from Detroit—on May 8, 1858, at 10 o'clock A.M. The convention was composed of some very able men. The following-named gentlemen composed the convention: Wm. Charles Monroe, President of the Convention; G. J. Reynolds, J. C. Grant, A. J. Smith, James M. Jones, Geo. B. Gill, M. F. Bailey, Wm. Lambert, C. W. Moffitt, John J. Jackson, J. Anderson, Alfred Whipple, James M. Bue, Wm. H. Leeman, Alfred M. Ellsworth, John E. Cook, Stewart Taylor, James W. Purnell, Geo. Akin, Stephen Detlin, Thomas Hickinson, John Cannet, Robinson Alexander, Richard Realf, Thomas F. Cary, Thomas W. Stringer, Richard Richardson, J. T. Parsons, Thos. M. Kinnard, Martin R. Delany, Robert Vanrankin, Charles H. Tidd, John A. Thomas, C. Whipple, J. D. Shad, Robert Newman, Owen Brown, John Brown, J. H. Harris, Charles Smith, Simon Fislin, Isaac Hotley, James Smith. Signed, J. H. Kagi. The following is the list of officers elected:

Commander-in-chief, John Brown; Secretary of War, J. H. Kagi; Members of Congress, Alfred M. Ellsworth, Osborn Anderson; Treasurer, Owen Brown; Secretary of Treasury, Geo. B. Gill; Secretary of State, Richard Realf.

The reader will see that two Andersons are mentioned, J. Anderson and Osborn Anderson. [Who these gentlemen are, the author does not know, nor has he any means of knowing.]

Rev. D. W. Anderson's ministry in Detroit was a success both in and out of the pulpit, both among his parishioners and among those of the world.

His wife was in every sense a pastor's wife. She bore for him the largest sympathy in his work; and cheered him with her prayers and presence in every good cause. She was intelligent and pious, loved by the church, honored by society. She found pleasure in visiting the sick, helping the poor, comforting the sorrowful, and in instructing the erring in ways of peace.

It is almost impossible to compute the value of a pastor's wife who appreciates the work of saving souls. If she is a good woman her influence is unbounded. Every person loves her, every person looks up to her. There are so many little things that she can do, if not beyond the province of the pastor, often out of range of his influence. Mrs. Anderson was all that could be hoped as a pastor's wife. She was of medium size, in complexion light, rather reserved in her manners, affable in address, very sensitive in her physical and mental constitution. Much of Anderson's service in Detroit must go to the account of his sainted wife. And it may not be irrelevant to remark that every minister of Christ's influence and success is perceptibly modified by his wife—much depends upon her!

Eighteen years of happy wedded life had passed. It was the autumn of 1860. Mrs. Anderson's health was failing. Her presence was missed from the church, from society, and at last on the 23d of October, 1860, she died.

On the 18th of March, 1861, he married again, Mrs. Eliza Julia Shad, of Chatham, Canada. He turned his attention to farming for a while, in order to regain his health.

At the close of the war he went South and taught in a theological institution at Nashville. Soon after he began his work here he received and accepted a call from the 19th Street Baptist Church of Washington, D. C. Washington was in a vile condition at the close of the war. Its streets were mud holes; its inhabitants crowded and jammed by the troops and curious Negroes from the plantations. Society was in a critical condition. There was great need of a leader for the Colored people. D. W. Anderson was that man. He entered upon his work with zeal and intelligence. He carried into the pulpit rare abilities, and into the parish work a genial, kindly nature which early gave him a place in the affections and confidence of his flock.

As a preacher he was a marvel. He generally selected his text early in the week. He studied its exegesis, made the plan of the sermon, and then began to choose his illustrations and fill in. On Sunday he would rise in his pulpit, a man six feet two and a half inches, and in a rich, clear, deliberate voice commence an extemporaneous discourse. His presence was majestic. With a massive head, much like that of John Adams, a strong brown eye that flashed as he moved on in his discourse, a voice sweet and well modulated, but at times rising to tones of thunder, graceful, ornate, forcible, and dramatic, he was the peer of any clergyman in Washington, and of Negroes there were none his equal.

He showed himself a power in the social life of his people by being himself a living epistle. He encouraged the young, and set every one who knew him an example of fidelity and efficiency in the smaller matters of life.

His early experiences were now in demand. The entire community recognized in him the elements of magnificent leadership. He was in great demand in every direction. He was elected a Trustee of the Howard University, of the Freedman's Saving Bank and Trust Company, Commissioner of Washington Asylum, Sept. 3d, 1871, and Justice of the Peace, 8th of April, 1869, and 9th of April, 1872. The vast amount of work he did on the outside did not impair his usefulness as a pastor or his faithfulness as a minister of the Gospel. On the contrary he gathered ammunition and experience from every direction. He made every thing help him in his preparation for the pulpit. His deep spiritual life, his nearness to the Master gave him power with men. No winter passed without a revival of grace and the conversion of scores of sinners. Thus the work continued until the house was both too small and unsafe. Plans were drawn and steps taken to build a new church edifice.

On the first Sunday in March, 1871, the old house of worship, on the corner of Nineteenth and I streets was abandoned, and the congregation went to worship in the Stevens School building. The corner-stone of the new building was laid on the 5th of April, 1871, and the new edifice dedicated on the 19th of November, 1871, five months after the work had begun. The dedicatory exercises were as follows:

At eleven o'clock precisely. Rev. D. W. Anderson, pastor in charge, announced that the hour for the religious exercises to commence had arrived, and he took pleasure in introducing his predecessor. Rev. Samuel W. Madden, of Alexandria, Va., who gave out the 934th hymn, which was sung with considerable fervor and spirit, the entire congregation rising and participating; after which, Rev. Jas. A. Handy, read from the 6th chapter, 2d Chronicles, and also addressed the throne of grace.

"Lift up your heads, ye eternal gates" was admirably rendered by the choir, when the following letter was read from the President:

"EXECUTIVE MANSION, } WASHINGTON, Nov. 18, 1871. }

"To Rev. D. W. ANDERSON, No. 1971 I Street,

"SIR: The President directs me to say that your note of the 8th inst., inviting him to be present at the dedication of your church, was mislaid during his absence from the city, and was not brought to his notice till to-day. He regrets that his engagements will not admit of his attendance at the time you mention. He congratulates your congregation upon the completion of so handsome a place of worship, and hopes that its dedication may prove an occasion of deep interest to all who share in a desire to promote the spread of the Christian religion.

"I am, sir, your obedient servant, "HORACE PORTER, Secretary."

Rev. Henry Williams, of Petersburg, Va., who was announced to preach the dedicatory sermon, selected the following words: "And he was afraid, and said: How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven."

Prominent among those present, who had been invited by Rev. Mr. Anderson, were His Excellency Governor H. D. Cooke, Hon. N. P. Chipman, Delegate to Congress; A. L. Sturtevant, Esq., Chief of Stationery Bureau, Treasury Department; Ed. Young, Esq., Chief of the Bureau of Statistics; Hon. A. K. Browne, Col. Wm. A. Cook, Dr. A. T. Augusta, and Wm. H. Thompson, Esq., of Philadelphia. While, seated around the altar, were Rev. Leonard A. Grimes, of Boston; Rev. Samuel. W Madden, of Alexandria, Va.; Rev. Geo. W. Goins, of Philadelphia; Rev. Jas. A. Handy, Washington; and Rev. Wm. Troy, Richmond, Va. At three o'clock, Rev. Leonard A. Grimes officiated and delivered an eloquent sermon.

A work of grace followed the dedication of the church; and from month to month souls were converted. On the 21st of January, 1873, he wrote the following letter to a Baptist minister residing in Chicago:

"1921, I Street, WASHINGTON, D. C., Jan. 21, 1873.

"REV. R. DEBAPTIST:

"DEAR BROTHER: I write to inform you of a wonderful outpouring of the Spirit of God in the 19th Street Baptist Church of which I am pastor. Without any especial effort, up to the last few days, there have been one to five converted every month, for the past seven years, in the congregation. This led too many to think that that was enough. At our watch-meeting I asked how many there were who would come to the front pews and kneel before God as a token to Christians to pray for them, and ten came. We had no other meeting until my weekly lecture, the first Thursday night in January after it. I saw a great feeling and called again; and there came twenty-two. The brethren and sisters decided to hold meeting the next night, and there came thirty-two who were converted. Now, at this date, Monday night, 20th, there came forward 'ninety-seven'; and there were over a hundred on their knees praying. Twenty-two found peace in believing last night.

"We are all well. Pray for us. Write soon.

"Yours ever, "D. W. ANDERSON."

He was taken sick on the 7th of February, 1873, and after a painful illness of eleven days, he fell asleep on the 17th of February, full of years and honors, and was gathered to the fathers. On the Monday evening, just before he died, he told his wife, daughter, and a small company of friends who surrounded his death-bed: "It's all well," and then, at 7:30 P.M., quietly "fell on sleep."

The news of his death cast gloom into thousands of hearts, and evoked eulogies and letters of condolence never before bestowed upon a Negro. His death was to the members of his church in the nature of a personal bereavement. The various interests to which he had loaned the enlightening influence of his judgment and the beneficence of his presence mourned his loss, and expressed their grief in appropriate resolutions. His life and character formed a fitting theme for the leading pulpits; and the Baptist denomination, the Negro race, and the nation sincerely mourned the loss of a great preacher, an able leader, and a pure patriot.

At the request of many people of both races and political parties, his body was placed in state in the church for twenty-four hours, and thousands of people, rich and poor, black and white, sorrowfully gazed upon the face of the illustrious dead. The funeral services were held on the 20th of February, and his obsequies were the largest Washington had ever seen, except those of the late Abraham Lincoln. The church was crowded to suffocation, and the streets for many squares were filled with solemn mourners. Thus a great man had fallen. The officers of the Freedman's Bank passed the following resolutions, which were forwarded with the accompanying letter from the president:

"OFFICE OF THE FREEDMAN'S SAVINGS AND TRUST } COMPANY, WASHINGTON, D. C., Feb. 20th, 1873. }

"At a meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Freedman's Savings and Trust Company, held this date, the following resolutions were adopted:

"1st. Resolved, That in the death of the Rev. D. W. Anderson, Trustee and Vice-President of this Company, we sustain the loss of a most excellent Christian man, and an officer of highest integrity. In all his relations to us he was an endeared associate, and an honored, intelligent, co-worker: ever firm in purpose and faithful to those for whom he labored. Our long intercourse with him impressed us with the increasing value of his services to the church of which he was pastor, and to this institution.

"We also hereby express our sincere sympathy with his immediate friends, and especially his afflicted family.

"2d. Resolved, That, as an added expression of our esteem, this Board will attend and take part in his funeral services, as a body.

"3d. Resolved, That these resolutions be spread upon our Records, and that a copy of the same be transmitted to his family."

"PRINCIPAL OFFICE, } FREEDMAN'S SAVINGS AND TRUST COMPANY, } WASHINGTON, D. C., Feb. 21, '73. }

"To Mrs. D. W. ANDERSON.

"My Dear Sister: Allow me to transmit to you the enclosed copy of resolutions passed by the Board of Trustees of the F. S. and T. Comp., with the sincerest assurances of my personal sympathy.

"Very respectfully, yours, etc., "I. W. ALVORD, President."

The Board of the Commissioners of the Washington Asylum passed the following resolutions of condolence:

"WHEREAS, it has pleased Divine Providence to remove from this life the Rev. D. W. Anderson, late President of this Board: therefore,

"Be it resolved, That in his death we have lost an honorable and faithful associate, a genial and kind-hearted friend, whom we delighted to honor and respect for his many virtues and sterling worth. In him the poor have lost a sympathizing friend; the criminal an even dispenser of Justice, and the Government one of its most efficient officers.

"Resolved, That we tender our most sincere sympathy to his bereaved family, and condole with them in this sad dispensation of Divine Providence.

"Resolved, That the resolutions be entered upon the Journal of proceedings of this Board, and a copy sent to the family of the lamented deceased.

"A. B. BOHRER, Sec. B. C. W. Asylum.

"Mrs. D. W. ANDERSON, Present."

The Young People's Christian Association, which he had founded, have spread the following resolutions of respect upon their minutes:

"Whereas, It has pleased the Supreme Ruler and Architect of the Universe to remove from our Association our beloved and estimable brother and Corresponding Secretary D. W. Anderson, whose Christian life was a beacon light, for all associated with him to follow, being humble, patient, forbearing, and forgiving, Therefore,

"Resolved, That in his death we have lost an humble and true Christian, possessing the same prominent characteristics which distinguished the Saviour of Mankind, doing good whenever he believed he was serving his Heavenly Master, administering to the poor, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, binding up the wounds of those offended, and laboring zealously for the salvation of souls, but while we feel the severe stroke of death that has stricken down one of our best members, we bow humbly to the will of Divine Providence, 'who doeth all things well,' believing that He has summoned our brother to dwell with Him in peace and happiness and to join the Army that is continually singing praises to Him who rules both the Heavens and the earth, so we cheerfully bow and acknowledge that our loss is his eternal gain.

"Resolved, That we tender to his bereaved family our sincere and Christian sympathy in this their hour of bereavement, and pray that He who has promised to be a Husband to the Widow, and a Father to the Fatherless, may keep and protect them.

"Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be engrossed and sent to the family of our deceased brother, and that the same be entered upon the records of the Association."

And the church testified their love and sorrow in the following beautiful resolves:

"BAPTIST CHURCH, CORNER of 19TH & I STREETS, WASHINGTON, D. C., Feb. 28, 1873.

"Whereas, It has pleased the Almighty God, the Supreme Ruler of the universe to remove from us our much esteemed and beloved Pastor,

"REVEREND D. W. ANDERSON,

"therefore, be it,

"Resolved, That we deeply deplore and lament the loss of so great and noble a pioneer in the cause of Christ, one who, like Christ, although scorned, traduced and ill-treated by enemies, went forward and labored in and out of his church for the promotion of the work of his Father in Heaven.

"Resolved, that as a Church we feel the severe stroke that has summoned from us our dearly beloved Pastor; but knowing that our loss is his eternal gain, we cheerfully submit to the will and order of that God who does all things well, that God who controls the destinies of nations, kingdoms, and empires, that God who 'moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.'

"Resolved, That we will endeavor by the assistance of our heavenly Master to live up to the teachings and examples set by our shepherd, thereby believing that when we are summoned to appear at the bar of God we will meet our Pastor in that grand Church above where 'sickness, pain, sorrow, or death is feared and felt no more,' 'where congregations ne'er break up, and Sabbath hath no end,' where 'we will sing hosannas to our heavenly King, where we will meet to part no more forever.'

"Resolved, That we, the Church, extend to the bereaved family our heartfelt sympathies, and that a copy of these resolutions be sent to them, and also entered on the Church journal.

"LINDSEY MUSE, Moderator.

"DAVID WARNER, Clerk."

The Mite Society of his church erected a monument to his memory in Harmony Cemetery, bearing the following inscriptions:

"The Christian Mite Society of the 19th Street Baptist Church render this tribute to the memory of their beloved pastor. We shall go to him, but he shall not return to us.

"Rev. D. W. ANDERSON, "Born April 10th, 1812. Died Feb. 17th, 1873. "'I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do.'

"He was ordained in 1844, and after a ministry of 21 years settled with the 19th Street Baptist Church of Washington, D. C., where he fell asleep in the midst of a great revival.

"For the cause of education, the welfare of the poor, the promotion of humanity, liberty, and the conversion of the world.

"He labored faithfully until the Master called him hence."

This beautiful life was studded with the noblest virtues. From obscurity and poverty Duke William Anderson had risen to fame and honors; and having spent a useful life, died in the midst of a great revival in the capital of the nation, holding more positions of trust than any other man, white or black; died with harness on, and left a name whose lustre will survive the corroding touch of time.

The Rev. James Poindexter, of Columbus, Ohio, and the Rev. Wallace Shelton, of Cincinnati, are now and have been for years the foremost Baptist ministers of Ohio. Both men came to Ohio more than a generation ago, and have proven themselves able ministers of Christ.

But of New England Baptist ministers Leonard Andrew Grimes is of most blessed memory.

It was some time during the year 1840, when disputings arose—about what is not known—within the membership of what was known as the "First Independent Baptist Church," of Boston, Mass., which resulted in the drawing out from the same of about forty members. This party was led by the Rev. Mr. Black, who had been, for some time, pastor of the church he now left. They secured a place of worship in Smith Court, off of Joy Street, where they continued for a considerable space of time. It was not long, however, after they began to worship in their new home, before their highly esteemed and venerable leader was stricken down with disease, from which he subsequently died.

This little band was now without a leader, and was, consequently, speedily rent by a schism within its own circle. But in the nucleus that finally became the Twelfth Baptist Church, there were faithful men and women who believed in the integrity of their cause, and, therefore, stood firm. They believed that "He who was for them was greater than all they who were against them." Though few in number, they felt that "one shall chase a thousand, and two shall put ten thousand to flight," was a very pertinent passage when applied to themselves. And those who have been blessed to see that little "company of believers" grow to be an exceedingly large and prosperous church of Christ must be persuaded that God alone gave "the increase."

For a long time this little company struggled on without a leader. They were called upon to walk through many discouraging scenes, and to humble themselves under the remorseless hand of poverty. Unable to secure, permanently, the services of a clergyman, they were driven to the necessity of obtaining whomsoever they could when the Sabbath came. And what a blessed thing it was for them that they were placed under the severe discipline of want! It taught them humility and faith—lessons often so hard to acquire. They bore their trials heroically, and esteemed it great joy to be counted worthy to suffer for Christ. When one Sabbath was ended they knew not whom the Lord would send the next; and yet they never suffered for the "Word of God." For He who careth for the lilies of the field, and bears up the falling sparrow, fed them with the "bread of life," and gave them to drink of the waters of salvation. "Unto the poor the Gospel was preached."

After a few years of pain and waiting, after the watching and praying, the hoping and fearing, God seemed pleased to hear the prayers of this lonely band, and gave them a leader. It was whispered in the community that a very intelligent and useful man, by the name of "Grimes," of New Bedford, could be retained as their leader. After some deliberation upon the matter, they chose one of their number to pay a visit to "Brother Leonard A. Grimes, of New Bedford," and on behalf of the company worshipping in "an upper room," on Belknap Street—now Joy Street—Boston, extended him an invitation to come and spend a Sabbath with them. In accordance with their request he paid them a visit. Impressed with the dignity of his bearing, and the earnestness of his manner, the company was unanimous in an invitation, inviting "the young preacher" to return and remain with them for "three months."

The invitation was accepted with alacrity, and the work begun with a zeal worthy of the subsequent life of "the beloved pastor of the Twelfth Baptist Church." Brother L. A. Grimes had been driven North on account of his friendly and humane relations to the oppressed. He had been incarcerated by the laws of slave-holding Virginia, for wresting from her hand, and piloting into the land of freedom, those whom slavery had marked as her children—or, rather, her "goods." A soul like his was too grand to live in such an atmosphere. In keeping the golden rule, he had insulted the laws of the institution under whose merciless sway thousands of human beings were groaning. He would live no longer where his convictions of duty were to be subordinated to, and palliated by, the penurious and cruel teaching of the slave institution. So, after having been robbed of his property, he left, in company with his family, for the fair shores of New England. He had sought no distinction, but had settled down to a quiet life in New Bedford. But a man of his worth could not stay in the quiet walks of life; he was born to lead, and heard God call him to the work his soul loved.

His quiet, unpretentious ministry of "three months" shadowed forth the loving, gentle, yet vigorous and successful ministry of a quarter of a century; a ministry so like the Master's, not confined to sect or nationality, limited only by the wants of humanity and the great heart-love that went gushing out to friend and foe. Those who were so happy as to sit under his ministry for the "three months" were quite unwilling to be separated from one whose ministry had so greatly comforted and built them up. In the young preacher they had found a leader of excellent judgment, a pastor of tender sympathies, and a father who loved them with all the strength of true manly affection. How could they retain him? They were poor. How could they release him? They loved him. After much prayer and pleading, Brother Grimes was secured as their leader, with a salary at the rate of $100 per annum. He returned to New Bedford and moved his family to Boston. His salary barely paid his rent; but by working with his hands, as Paul did, and through the industry of his wife, he was enabled to get along.

During all this time this little company of believers was without "church organization." At length a council was called and their prayer for organization presented. After the procedure common to such councils, it was voted that this company of Christian men and women be organized as the "Twelfth Baptist Church." The church consisted of twenty-three members.

On the evening of the 24th of November, 1848, occurred the services of the recognition of the church, and the ordination of Rev. L. A. Grimes as its pastor. The order of exercises was as follows:

Reading of Scriptures and prayer, by the Rev. Edmund Kelley; sermon, by the Rev. J. Banvard, subject: "The way of salvation," from Acts xvi, 17: "The same followed Paul and us, and cried, saying, These men are the servants of the most high God, which show unto us the way of salvation"; hand of fellowship to the church, by the Rev. T. F. Caldicott; prayer of recognition and ordination, by the Rev. John Blain; charge to the candidate, by the Rev. Nathaniel Colver; address to the church, by the Rev. Rollin H. Neale; concluding prayer, by the Rev. Sereno Howe; benediction, by the pastor, Rev. Leonard A. Grimes.

The exercises were of a very pleasant nature, and of great interest to the humble little church that assembled to enjoy them. It was an occasion of no small moment that published to the world the "Twelfth Baptist Church," and sent upon a mission of love and mercy, Leonard Andrew Grimes! It was an occasion that has brought great strength to the Colored people of Boston, yea, of the country! It was the opening of a door; it was the loosening of chains, the beginning of a ministry that was to stretch over a period of twenty-five years, carrying peace and blessing to men in every station. And may we not, with propriety, halt upon the threshold of our gratitude, and thank that wise Being who gave him, a blessing to the church a friend to humanity?

Happy, thrice happy, was the little church that had wedded itself for life to one who had laid himself upon the altar of their common cause. These relations and manifold responsibilities were not hastily or rashly assumed. The little church felt keenly its poverty and weakness, while its new pastor knew that the road to prosperity lay through fields of toil and up heights of difficulty. Before him was no dark future, for the light of an extraordinary faith scattered the darkness as he advanced to duty. What man of intelligence, without capital or social influence, would have undertaken so discouraging a project as that to which Leonard A. Grimes unconditionally brought the sanctified zeal of a loving heart? To him it was purely a matter of duty, and it was this thought that urged him on with his almost superhuman burdens.

But to return to the "upper chamber," and take one more look at the happy little church. It was not the pastor's object to begin at once to perfect plans to secure a place more desirable to worship in than their present little room. His heart longed for that enlargement of soul secured by a nearness to the divine Master. His heart yearned after those who were enemies to the "cross of Christ." His first prayer was: "O Lord, revive thy work!" and it was not offered in vain. A season of prayer was instituted for the outpouring of the Spirit. The pastor led the way to the throne of grace in a fervent and all-embracing prayer. A spirit of prayer fell upon his people. Every heart trembled in tenderest sympathy for those who were strangers to the "covenant of mercy"; every eye was dampened with tears of gratitude and love; every tongue was ready to exclaim with Watts:—

"'T was the same love that spread the feast, That sweetly forced us in; Else we had still refused to taste, And perished in our sin."

The church had reached that point in feeling where the blessing is sure. They heard the coming of the chariot, and felt the saving power of the Lord in their midst. It was a glorious revival. There were more converted than there were members in the church. Oh, what joy, what peace, what comfort in the Holy Ghost was there in that "upper chamber"! What tongue or pen can describe the scene in that room when over thirty souls were gathered into the fold! A pastor's first revival! What rejoicing! The gathering of his first children in the Lord! Ask Paul what conscious pride he took in those who were his "epistles," his "fruit in the Gospel," his "children" in Christ Jesus. It lifted Brother Grimes up to the heights of Pisgah in his rejoicing, and laid him low at the cross in his humility. "The Lord had done great things for him, whereof he was glad"; And they "did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to the church daily such as should be saved."

The rooms in which they began now proved too small for their rapidly increasing membership. They agreed to have a building of their own. It was now the latter part of 1848. The business eye of the pastor fell upon a lot on Southac Street; and in the early part of 1849 the trustees purchased it. Preparations for building were at once begun. It seemed a large undertaking for a body of Christians so humble in circumstances, so weak in numbers. But faith and works were the genii that turned the tide of prosperity in their favor. They decided that the ground and edifice should not exceed in cost the sum of $10,000. The society proposed to raise two or three thousand within its own membership; three thousand by loan, and solicit the remainder from the Christian public. Previous to this period the public knew little or nothing of this society. Brother Grimes had come to Boston almost an entire stranger, and had now to undertake the severe task of presenting the interests of a society so obscure and of so recent date. But he believed in his cause, and knew that success would come. He had known Dr. Neale in Washington City, during his early ministry; they were boys together. They met. It was a pleasant meeting. The Rev. Mr. Neale vouched for him before the public. It was not particularly necessary, for Brother Grimes carried a recommendation in his face: it was written all over with veracity and benevolence.

Joyfully and successfully he hurried on his mission. He made friends of the enemies of evangelical religion, and gathered a host of admirers around him. The public saw in him not only the zealous pastor of an humble little church, but the true friend of humanity. The public ear was secured; his prayer was answered in the munificent gifts that came in from every direction. Every person seemed anxious to contribute something to this noble object.

It was a beautiful morning! The sun never shone brighter, nor the air smelled sweeter or purer than on that memorable first day of August, 1850. The first persons to usher themselves into the street that morning were the happy members of the "Twelfth Baptist Church." Every face told of the inward joy and peace of thankful hearts. Those who had toiled long through the days of the church's "small things," felt that their long-cherished hopes were beginning to bud.

Long before the appointed hour the members and friends of the church began to gather to participate in the "laying of the corner-stone of the Twelfth Baptist Church." It was a sweet, solemn occasion.

"Rev. Drs. Sharp, Neale and Colver, together with the pastor of the church, officiated on the occasion. The usual documents were deposited with the stone, and the customary proceedings gone through with, in a solemn and impressive manner."

The occasion lent an enthusiasm for the work hitherto unknown. They were emboldened. The future looked bright, and on every hand the times were propitious. Gradually the walls of the edifice grew heavenward, and the building began to take on a pleasing phase. At length the walls had reached their proper height, and the roof crowned all. Their sky was never brighter. It is true a "little speck of cloud" was seen in the distance; but they were as unsuspicious as children. The cloud approached gradually, and, as it approached, took on its terrible characteristics. It paused a while; it trembled. Then there was a death-like silence in the air, and in a moment it vomited forth its forked lightning, and rolled its thunder along the sky. It was the explosion of a Southern shell over a Northern camp, that was lighted by the torch of ambition in the hands of fallen Webster. It was the culmination of slave-holding Virginia's wrath. It was invading the virgin territory of liberty-loving Massachusetts. It was hunting the fugitive on free soil, and tearing him from the very embrace of sweet freedom.

When the time came to enlist Colored soldiers, Leonard A. Grimes was as untiring in his vigilance as any friend of the Fifty-fourth Regiment of Massachusetts volunteers, while the members of his church were either joining or aiding the regiment. So highly were the services of Brother Grimes prized that the chaplaincy of the regiment was not only tendered him, but urged upon him; but the multifarious duties of his calling forbade his going with the regiment he loved and revered.

The ladies of his congregation were busy with their needles, thus aiding the cause of the Union; and no church threw its doors open more readily to patriotic meetings than the Twelfth Baptist Church. And during those dark days of the Union, when all seemed hopeless, when our armies were weak and small, the prayers of a faithful pastor and pious people ascended day and night, and did much to strengthen the doubting.

The fugitive-slave law and civil war had done much to weaken the church financially and numerically. Many who fled from the fugitive-slave law had not returned; the young men had entered the service of the country, while many others were absent from the city under various circumstances. But notwithstanding all these facts, God blessed the church—even in war times,—and many were converted.

The struggle was now ended. "The Boys in Blue" came home in triumph. The father separated from child, the husband from wife, could now meet again. Those who were driven before the wrath of an impious and cruel edict could now return to the fold without fear. What a happy occasion it was for the whole church! The reunion of a family long separated; the gathering of dispersed disciples. The occasion brought such an undistinguishable throng of fancies—such joy, such hope, such blessed fellowship—as no pen can describe.

At the commencement of the Rebellion the church numbered about 246; and at the close of the Rebellion it numbered about 300, notwithstanding the discouraging circumstances under which she labored. The revivals that followed brought many into the church, and the heart of the pastor was greatly encouraged.

At first it was thought that the entire cost of the land and building would not exceed $10,000; but the whole cost, from the time they began to build until the close of the war, was $14,044.09. In 1861 the indebtedness of the church was $2,967.62; at the close of the war it was about $2,000.

During all these years of financial struggle the church had ever paid her notes with promptness and without difficulty. And now that the war was over, freedom granted to the enslaved, and the public again breathing easy, the little church, not weary of well-doing, again began the work of removing the remaining debt. The public was sought only in the most extreme necessity. The ladies held sewing circles, and made with the needle fancy articles to be sold in a festival, while the members of the church were contributing articles of wearing apparel, or offering their services at the sale tables. The proceeds were given to the society to pay its debts; and it was no mean gift.

From 1865 to 1871 the church grew rapidly. Revivals were of frequent occurrence; and many from the South, learning of the good name of Rev. Mr. Grimes, sought his church when coming to Boston. But it was apparent that their once commodious home was now too small. The pastor saw this need, and began to take the proper steps to meet it. It was at length decided that the church should undergo repairs; and the pastor was armed with the proper papers to carry forward this work. The gallery that was situated in the east end of the church was used chiefly by the choir and an instrument. In making repairs it was thought wise to remove the organ from the gallery, and put in seats, and thereby accommodate a larger number of people. Then, the old pulpit took up a great deal of room, and by putting in a new pulpit of less dimensions, more room could be secured for pews. This was done, with the addition of a baptistry, the lack of which for nearly twenty-five years had driven them, in all kinds of weather, to Charles River. Every thing, from the basement up, underwent repairs. The pews were painted and furnished with book-racks. The floors were repaired, and covered with beautiful carpet; while the walls and ceilings were richly clothed with fresco, by the hands of skilful workmen. In the centre of the ceiling was an excellent ventilator, from which was suspended a very unique chandelier, with twelve beautiful globes, that were calculated to dispense their mellow light upon the worshippers below. But to crown all this expensive work and exceeding beauty thus bestowed upon the house, was the beautiful organ that adorned the southwest corner of the church, just to the pastor's right when in the pulpit. It was secured for the sum of two thousand five hundred dollars. All was accomplished. The old house of worship was now entirely refitted. No heart was happier than the pastor's the day the church was reopened.[132] The new and elegant organ sent forth its loud peals of music in obedience to the masterly touch of the "faithful one," who for more than twelve years was never absent from her post of duty, and whom none knew but to love and honor.

What supreme satisfaction there is in the accomplishment of a work that comprehends, not the interests of an individual, but the interests of the greatest number of human beings! The labors of Rev. Mr. Grimes were bestowed upon those whom he loved. He had toiled for his church as a father does to support his family. And no pastor, perhaps, was ever more paternal to his flock than Leonard A. Grimes. He was a man wondrously full of loving-kindness,—a lover of mankind.

It has been the rule rather than the exception, for a long time, for churches to carry heavy debts; and when a church is free from debt, it certainly furnishes a cause for great rejoicing. It was so with the Twelfth Baptist Church. For a long time—more than twenty years—the church had been before the public as an object of charity. For more than twenty years the people had struggled heroically amid all of the storms that gathered around them. Sometimes they expected to see "the red flag" upon their house of worship, but the flag Was never raised.

The debts of the church had all been removed. The house was absolutely free from every encumbrance; the people owned their church.

But the little church of twenty-three had become the large church of six hundred. The once commodious house was now too small for the communicants of the church. The pastor began to look around for a place to build, and considered the matter of enlarging the present house of worship. He had expended the strength of his manhood in the service of his church; he had built one house, and had never denied the public his service. It would seem natural that a man whose life had been so stormy, yea, so full of toil and care, would seek in advanced age the rest and quiet so much desired at that stage of life. But it was not so with Brother Grimes. He was willing to begin another lifetime work, and with all the freshness of desire and energy of young manhood.

It was now the latter part of the winter of 1873. A revival had been for a long time, and was still, in progress. Converts were coming into the church rapidly. The heart of the pastor was never fuller of love than during the revival. He seemed to be in agony for sinners to be saved. He impatiently paced the aisles, and held private and personal interviews with the impenitent. He disliked to leave the church at the close of the services. He remained often in the vestibule, watching for an opportunity to say a word for the Saviour. Brother C. G. Swan, who preached for him once, said: "I never beheld a more heavenly face; it seemed as if his soul were ripe for heaven."

Those who saw him in the pulpit the last Sabbath he spent on earth—March 9, 1874—will not soon forget the earnestness and impressiveness of his manner. On Wednesday, March 12th, he left the scene of his labors to discharge a duty nearest to his heart. He took $100 from his poor church, as a gift to the Home Mission Society, that was to be used in the Freedman's Fund.

On Friday evening, March 14th, he reached home just in time to breathe his last in the arms of his faithful, though anxious wife. Thus he fell asleep in the path of duty, in the midst of a mighty work.

The news of his death spread rapidly, and cast a shadow of grief over the entire community. The people mourned him.

The morning papers gave full account and notice of his death. The following is one of the many notices that were given:

"DEATH OF AN ESTEEMED CLERGYMAN.

"The Rev. L. A. Grimes, the well-known and universally esteemed colored clergyman, died very suddenly last evening, at his residence on Everett Avenue, East Somerville. He had just returned from New York, where he had been to attend the meeting of the Baptist Board of Home Missions, of which he was a member. He had walked to his home from the cars, and died within fifteen minutes after his arrival. The physicians pronounce it a case of apoplexy. Mr. Grimes was pastor of the Twelfth Baptist Church, on Phillips Street, in this city. During the twenty-six years of his ministry in Boston he had won the confidence and regard, not only of his own sect, but of the entire community. His labors for the good of his oppressed race attracted public attention to him more than twenty years ago, and this interest manifested itself in the generous contributions of Unitarians, Episcopalians, and Universalists in aid of his church. During the thirty-four dark days of the infamous Fugitive-Slave Law, and the excitements occasioned by slave hunts in Boston, Mr. Grimes had a 'level head,' and did much to keep down riotous outbreaks from those who then were told that they had no rights that white men were bound to respect. Fortunate, indeed, will be the church of the deceased, if his successor, like him, shall be able to keep them together, and lead them in righteous ways for a quarter of a century."

On the following Monday morning, at the ministers' meeting, appropriate remarks were made, and resolutions drawn up. The following appeared in the daily papers:

"BAPTIST MINISTERS' MEETING.

"The Monday morning meeting of the Baptist ministers of Boston and vicinity was held at ten o'clock, Monday, as is the weekly custom. After the devotional exercises, the committee to prepare resolutions on the death of the late Rev. Leonard Andrew Grimes made their report to the meeting. Pending the acceptance of the report remarks eulogizing the deceased were made by Rev. R. H. Neale, D.D., and others. The resolutions, which were thereupon given a place upon the records of the meeting, are as follows: In the death of Leonard Andrew Grimes, for twenty-seven years the pastor of the Twelfth Baptist Church of Boston, the city in which he lived, the race for which he labored have sustained an irreparable loss. The confrere of Daniel Sharp, Baron Stow, Phineas Stow, Nathaniel Colver, Rev. Mr. Graves of the 'Reflector,' he was one whose coming might always be welcomed with the exclamation of our Saviour concerning Nathaniel: 'Behold an Israelite indeed in whom there is no guile.' His last efforts were put forth for his race. He carried to the Board of the American Baptist Home Mission Society, of which he had been for many years an honored member, a large contribution from his church, to help on Christ's work among the Freedmen, and, on returning from New York, stopped at New Bedford to comfort a broken-hearted mother, whose little child was dying, and then came to the city, and in fifteen minutes after crossing the threshold of his home passed on to God.

"His death affected the ministry and churches as when 'a standard-bearer fainteth.' His familiar face was ever welcome. His resolute bearing, his unswerving fidelity to Christ, to truth, to the church at large, and his own denomination in particular, and his life-long service as a philanthropist, his devotion to the interests of the negro, to whom he was linked by ties of consanguinity and of sympathy, made him a felt power for good in our State and in our entire country. No man among us was more sincerely respected or more truly loved. His departure, while it came none too soon for the tired warrior, impoverishes us with the withdrawal of an all-embracing love, and leaves God's poor to suffer to an extent it is impossible to describe.

"Resolved, That the death of this good minister of Jesus Christ imposes heavy responsibilities upon his surviving brethren. The interests of the race of which he was an honored representative are imperilled. Their noble champion has gone up higher; but no waiting Elisha saw the ascent, and cried, 'My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof'; so who can hope to wear his mantle and continue his work?

"Resolved, That we tender to his afflicted widow, and to the church he had so long and faithfully served, this poor expression of our sympathy, and this truthful evidence of our love.

"Resolved, That the good of his race, just passing from the morning of emancipation into the noonday radiance of a liberty of which they have dreamed, and for which they have prayed, demands that a permanent record be made of this noble man of God."

The ministers' meeting adjourned after the reading of the foregoing resolutions, to attend the funeral services, which were to take place in Charles Street Church. At an early hour in the morning the body was placed in front of the altar in the church of the deceased, where it lay in state all the forenoon, and where appropriate services were conducted by Drs. Cheney, Fulton, and others. Thousands, of every grade and hue, thronged the church to have a last fond look at the face so full of sunlight in life, and so peaceful in death.

At one o'clock the remains were removed to Charles Street Church, where the funeral services were conducted with a feeling of solemnity and impressiveness worthy of the sad occasion. The addresses of Drs. Neale and Fulton were fall of tenderness and grief. Both of these gentlemen were, for many years, the intimate friends of the deceased. They were all associated together in a noble work for a number of years, and there were no hearts so sad as those of Brothers Neale and Fulton. Clergymen of every denomination were present, and the congregation contained men and women from all the walks of life. The funeral was considered one of the largest that ever took place in Boston.

On the following Sabbath quite a number of the Boston pulpits gave appropriate discourses upon the "Life and Character of the late L. A. Grimes." The most noticeable were those delivered by Rev. R. N. Neale, D.D., Rev. Justin D. Fulton, D.D., and Rev. Henry A. Cook.

Within the last decade quite a number of educated Colored Baptist clergymen have come into active work in the denomination. The old-time preaching is becoming distasteful to the people. The increasing intelligence of the congregations is an unmistakable warning to the preachers that a higher standard of preaching is demanded; that the pew is becoming as intelligent as the pulpit. The outlook is very encouraging. However, the danger of the hour is, that too many Negro churches may be organized. We have the quantity; let us have the quality now.

FOOTNOTES:

[132] It was our good fortune to be present. We remember distinctly his happy face, his words of gratitude and thanks. And as we looked around every face wore an expression of complete satisfaction.



Part 9.

THE DECLINE OF NEGRO GOVERNMENTS.



CHAPTER XXVII.

REACTION, PERIL, AND PACIFICATION.

1875-1880.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END OF THE REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENTS AT THE SOUTH.—SOUTHERN ELECTION METHODS AND NORTHERN SYMPATHY.—GEN. GRANT NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DECLINE AND LOSS OF THE REPUBLICAN STATE GOVERNMENTS AT THE SOUTH.—A PARTY WITHOUT A LIVE ISSUE.—SOUTHERN WAR CLAIMS.—THE CAMPAIGN OF 1876.—REPUBLICAN LETHARGY AND DEMOCRATIC ACTIVITY.—DOUBTFUL RESULTS.—THE ELECTORAL COUNT IN CONGRESS.—GEN. GARFIELD AND CONGRESSMEN FOSTER AND HALE TO THE FRONT AS LEADERS.—PEACEFUL RESULTS.—PRESIDENT HAYES'S SOUTHERN POLICY.—ITS FAILURE.—THE IDEAS OF THE HON. CHARLES FOSTER ON THE TREATMENT OF THE SOUTHERN PROBLEM.—"NOTHING BUT LEAVES" FROM CONCILIATION.—A NEW POLICY DEMANDED BY THE REPUBLICAN PARTY.—A REMARKABLE SPEECH BY THE HON. CHARLES FOSTER AT UPPER SANDUSKY, OHIO.—HE CALLS FOR A SOLID NORTH AGAINST A SOLID SOUTH.—HE SOUNDS THE KEY-NOTE FOR THE NORTH AND THE NATION RESPONDS.—THE DECAY AND DEATH OF THE NEGRO GOVERNMENTS AT THE SOUTH INEVITABLE.—THE NEGRO MUST TURN HIS ATTENTION TO EDUCATION, THE ACCUMULATION OF PROPERTY AND EXPERIENCE.—HE WILL RETURN TO POLITICS WHEN HE SHALL BE EQUAL TO THE DIFFICULT DUTIES OF CITIZENSHIP.

From 1868 to 1872 the Southern States had been held by the Republican party, with but a few exceptions, without much effort. The friends of the Negro began to congratulate themselves that the Southern problem had been solved. Every Legislature in the South had among its members quite a fair representation of Colored men. Among the State officers there was a good sprinkling of them; and in some of the States there were Negroes as Lieut.-Governors. Congress had opened its doors to a dozen Negroes; and the consular and diplomatic service had employed a number of them in foreign parts. And so with such evidences of political prosperity before their eyes the friends of the Negro at the North regarded his "calling and election sure."

In 1873 a great financial panic came to the business and monetary affairs of the country. It was the logic of an inflated currency, wild and visionary enterprises, bad investments, and prodigal living. Banks tottered and fell, large business houses suspended, and financial ruin ran riot. Northern attention was diverted from Southern politics to the "destruction that seemed to waste at noon-day." Taking advantage of this the South seized the shot-gun and wrote on her banners: "We must carry these States, peaceably if we can; forcibly if we must." An organized, deliberate policy of political intimidation assumed the task of ridding the South of Negro government. The first step was in the direction of intimidating the white leaders of the Republican organizations; and the next was to deny employment to all intelligent and influential Colored Republicans. Thus from time to time the leaders of the Republican party were reduced to a very small number. Without leaders the rank and file of the party were harmless and helpless in State and National campaigns. This state of affairs seemed to justify the presence of troops at the polls on election days. Under an Act of Congress "the President was empowered to use the army to suppress domestic violence, prevent bloodshed," and to protect the Negroes in the constitutional exercise of the rights conferred upon them by the Constitution. This movement was met by the most determined opposition from the South, aided by the sympathy of the Northern press, Democratic platforms, and a considerable element in the Republican party.

In 1874 the condition of affairs in the South was such as to alarm the friends of stable, constitutional government everywhere. The city of New Orleans was in a state of siege. Streets were blockaded with State troops and White Line leagues, and an open battle was fought. The Republican State government fell before the insurgents, and a new government was established vi et armis. Troops were sent to New Orleans by the President, and the lawful government was restored. The Liberal movement in the North, which had resulted in the defeat of the Republican tickets in Indiana, Ohio, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and even in Massachusetts, greatly encouraged the Bourbon Democrats of the South, and excited them to the verge of the most open and cruel conduct toward the white and black Republicans in their midst.

A large number of Northern Legislatures passed resolutions condemning the action of the President in sending troops into the South, although he did it in accordance with law. Many active and influential Republicans, displeased with the action of the Republican governments at the South, and the conduct of the Forty-third Congress, demanded the destruction of the Republican party. The Liberal movement had started in 1872. Its leaders thought the time had come for a new party, and counselled the country accordingly.

The Forty-fourth Congress was organized by the Democrats. The Cabinet Ministers were divided on the policy pursued toward the South. In the autumn of 1875 the shot-gun policy carried Mississippi; and from the 6th of July till the Republican government in that State went down into a bloody grave, there was an unbroken series of political murders.

President Grant was met by a Democratic Congress; a divided Cabinet: Zachariah Chandler and Edwards Pierrepont were in sympathy with him; Bristow and Jewell represented the Liberal sentiment. Then, the Republican party of the North, and many leading journals, were urging a change of policy toward the South. The great majority of Republicans wanted a change, not because they did not sympathize with the Negro governments, but because they saw some of the best men in the party withdrawing their support from the administration of Gen. Grant. There were other men who charged that the business failures in the country were occasioned by the financial policy of the Republican party, and in a spirit of desperation were ready to give their support to the Democracy.

It was charged by the enemies of Gen. Grant that when he was elected President he had a solid Republican South behind him; that under his administration everything had been lost; and that he was responsible for the political ruin which had overtaken the Republican party at the South. The charge was false. The errors of reconstruction under the administration of President Andrew Johnson, and the mistakes of the men who had striven to run the State governments at the South had to be counteracted by the administration of President Grant. This indeed was a difficult task. He did all he could under the Constitution; and when Congress endeavored to pass the Force Bill, the Hon. James G. Blaine, of Maine, made a speech against it in caucus. Mr. Blaine had a presidential ambition to serve, and esteemed his own promotion of greater moment than the protection of the Colored voters of the South. And Mr. Blaine never allowed an opportunity to pass in which he did not throw every obstacle in the way of the success of the Grant administration. Mr. Blaine has never seen fit to explain his opposition to the Force Bill, which was intended to strengthen the hands of the President in his efforts to protect the Negro voter at the South.