e were
naturally solicitous to improve their acquaintance with the young man,
little more than out of his teens, who had had the hardihood to brave
the discipline and upset the prejudices of a whole Presbytery on a
question which, at that time of day, was considered to be of vital
importance. Contrary, in all probability, to his own expectations,
Anderson woke up one fine morning to find himself famous. Although there
were few outward and visible signs of approval with his rebellious
spirit, he yet retained in secret the countenance of many colleagues in
the ministry, who had long pined for a freer and more tolerable
ecclesiastical atmosphere, and the issue of Dr. Anderson's independence
had the proximate result of achieving their release from one of the most
grievous and galling fetters imposed upon them by the exacting and
puritanical spirit of the times--a spirit which, however well it may
have answered the requirements of a less enlightened age, was an insult
to the freedom of action that belonged to the nineteenth century. While
the Presbytery was left in anything but a dignified position, Dr.
Anderson could confidently say, "Veni, vidi, vici!" It was the old story
over again. It was not one of the pillars in Israel--it was one of the
weak things of the Church that was chosen to confound the mighty.

From the first, Dr. Anderson secured a rare measure of popularity as a
preacher. His zeal, energy, and power were acknowledged on all hands,
and it is no small tribute to his genius and popularity that in a city
where Dr. Chambers was still in the zenith of his fame, where Dr.
Wardlaw had built up his splendid reputation, and where, last but not
least, Edward Irving was making his magic influence felt, Dr. Anderson
was able, not only to hold his own, but to make fresh friends and
admirers every day. He seemed to have a special talent for drawing the
multitude about him. And yet it was not done by any dexterous shuffle of
the theological cards, or by pandering to the morbid passions and
tickling the vanities and weaknesses of his hearers. He never hesitated
to tell his hearers that they were poor, and miserable, and blind, and
naked. Thackeray has ridiculed the idea of a man with a long rent-roll,
and a comfortable cushioned pew, believing himself to be a miserable
sinner; but, he must have been obtuse indeed who would not wince under
this rough and _bizarre_, but terribly earnest and fervid preacher. For
a long period