Now let us note in contrast another man. There was a negro pastor in the city by the name of Richard Anderson. When a boy he was a slave, and had been brought from Virginia to Missouri. When he was twelve years old his master, Mr. Bates, had given him his freedom. He now began to do odd jobs about the city. He became a newspaper carrier, and thus aided in distributing among its subscribers _The Missouri Republican_. While doing his work he learned to read; the newspaper that he carried from door to door was his spelling-book and school reader. With his ability to read came broader intelligence. He industriously thumbed and mastered good books. The Bible was constantly read by him. He became a Christian. He was called to be a preacher and pastor. He was a large man of commanding presence, a descendant of an African chief. He was very black. While his nose was somewhat flattened, it was straight and sharply cut; his thick lips were firmly set. His eyes were large and lustrous, his forehead was high and broad. He preached well. His manner was quiet, suggesting reserved power; his thought was orderly and clear. He had great power over an audience. If his black hearers became noisy with their shouting of “amen” and “hallelujah,” by a gentle wave of the hand he reduced them to silence. He was a born leader, but he led by the inherent force of his character. One of his deacons said, “He led us all by a spider’s web.” He was universally respected, and was welcome to all houses where the members of his church were employed. He never betrayed any confidence reposed in him. Like his Master “he went about doing good.” Nothing diverted him from his purpose. Nothing seemed to disturb his equanimity. While he sometimes burned with indignation, he never lost control of himself. He was a man of rare balance of mind. He presided over a church of a thousand members. Fully half of them were free. The bill for the expulsion of free negroes from the State fell with greater severity upon him than upon any other man in St. Louis. I met him expecting that he would be greatly agitated and cast down; but was surprised to find him absolutely unruffled. I ventured to ask him if he had heard of the recent legislation pertaining to free negroes. He quietly replied that he had, and then added with emphasis, “That bill will never become a law.” With mingled curiosity and surprise I asked, “How do you know that?” Lifting his hand and pointing upward toward heaven, and turning his eyes thitherward he replied, “I know because I have asked up there.” Calm and assured as he was, I feared that he was the victim of a fatal illusion from which he might be soon rudely awakened. But nothing that I said in opposition to his conclusion moved him in the slightest degree from his conviction.