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.