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