CHARLES G. SOMMERS,

"And as Jesus passed forth from thence, He saw a man sitting at the receipt of custom; and He saith unto him, Follow me. And he arose and followed Him."

In the midst of the newspaper offices, publishing houses, printing establishments, bookstores, magazine depots, and stationery shops, crowded into Nassau-street, once stood a plain and modest church. The merchant, in his chase for gain; the editor, evolving the public opinion of the coming day; the compositor, driven to his daily toil; the bookseller, intent on a new edition; the author, absorbed in a suggested illustration, would all readily pass this church, unconscious of its actuality. Yet there it stood, retiring and resigned, as if always looking down upon the rush for Fame and Gain, more in sorrow than in anger; never upbraiding, never reproaching; only reminding, by its silent presence, of higher gains, and of more enduring glories. As we passed it, it became to us the representative of the Christian faith, as, like that, it lived disregarded, almost unknown, in the midst of din and bustle, and the rushing, eddying tide of life; while around its overshadowing neighbors, personating worldliness, there ever crowded, excited, watchful, faithful devotees. And then, when the Sabbath came, and the doors were gently opened, a few gathered for worship;-how few compared with the great mass which, all the week, pressed around those loftier piles!

Thus repeatedly passing this quiet, acquiescent church, we felt impelled to turn aside, and visit it on its own day; when, perchance, it might relax the settled seriousness of its expression, and take a happier, hopefuller view of life. When we entered,

the organ was playing a familiar tune, with such a plaintive melody, that the music became another propelling wave to our reflections. Then, when the pastor rose for prayer, and all were hushed in silence, and the petition was uttered with so much fervency, we felt more than ever the peculiar inspiration which had gathered about the place. Another interlude of subdued music, and the preacher read his text. He spoke with deliberation and reverence, as if it were impossible to speak otherwise in a church which had borne its testimony, all through the week, in such calm and solemn quietness. Then he preached, with strong entreaties, to his flock, lest any one should fail of entrance into the fold of the Great Shepherd; but with less of high-wrought sentence, and glowing imagery, and thrilling illustration, and artistic groupings, than attaches to exalted oratory, as there was little of elegance or ornament or beauty in the surrounding architecture. Plain, unstudied, unpretending; yet compact, well-founded, and sound was the prevailing style of both church and sermon. After a while we learned that Rev. Mr. Sommers was the preacher, and this testimony-bearing building his church; that he had been preaching there, Sabbath after Sabbath, for twenty-seven years; that he was universally respected, and warmly regarded; that he was one of the long-tried laborers in the vineyard, who had borne the burden and heat of the day; and that, in youth, he had turned aside from business, and consecrated the remainder of his life to the teaching of religious truth. In time, we chanced to meet him; found that his life had been a varied and not uneventful one; and therefore noted, as was our wont, some experiences of the preacher, at the serious and overshadowed church. And when we came to select our representatives of the American Pulpit, Mr. Sommers seemed, with most distinctness, to set forth the class of preachers, more especially of the Baptist denomination, who have left counter or desk or work-bench at the call of Heaven, and entered the pulpit; and who are not properly included under the division of Pioneer Preachers, inasmuch as they became settled pastors, and not itinerant evangelists. But these incidents are not startling, though somewhat striking. They tell of integrity of purpose, warmth of sentiment, undiscouraged industry, and the

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guidings of an overruling Providence. They help one to realize that there is in this world much of accomplishment, in the way of gooddoing, which is not effected through distinguished oratory or remarkable learning or exalted genius; and that, as in the midst of all the business and excitement and wear and din of Nassau-street, stood that quiet church; so in this world's turmoil stand many unobtrusive men, who bear their testimony, through life, for righteousness and God.

But changes have come with the turn of years: the organ is silent; the pulpit is gone; the Church no longer utters its testimony against Gain and Fame; but now, we are compelled to say, ills of body instead of soul are its anxiety, and on its forehead the following sentence is written in gilded letters, at once the flaunt of its degradation and the epitaph of its lost life: "TEMPLE OF HEALTHDR. S. P. TOWNSEND."

EARLY LIFE.

Charles G. Sommers was born in the city of London, in the year 1793. His father was a Norwegian, whose birthplace was Tronheim. His Christian name was "Ole," a favorite one in Norway. The early part of his life was spent in Denmark, where he received the usual school instruction allotted to boys.

It is an interesting fact that he was in Copenhagen when that city was bombarded by Nelson, on the eventful 2d of April, 1801. The day before, the English fleet, consisting of fifty-one sail of various descriptions, of which sixteen were ships of the line, came to an anchorage within two leagues of Copenhagen, off the N. W. end of the "Middle Ground," a shoal lying before the town, only threefourths of a mile distant. In the King's Channel, between this shoal and the town, the Danes had arranged their line of defence, consisting of nineteen ships and floating batteries, flanked at one end by the Crown Batteries, works of a most formidable character, the largest one mounting eighty-three guns. Late in the afternoon the British fleet weighed anchor, doubled the farther end of the shoal,

and came to anchor within two miles of the Danish batteries. Here these mighty battle-ships lay all night, in a foreboding silence, broken only by the dash of waves against their huge black sides, or by sound of revelry, and low murmur of preparation, which ever and anon issued from the open port-holes. In the British fleet it was a night of wild joy, and hope, and glorious anticipation of the morrow's victory, with the thrilling excitement which nerves the arm and steels the heart of soldier and seaman, in the prospect of desolating contest. But the gloom of night which settled over the doomed city of Copenhagen was but a faint image of the forebodings shutting down so darkly on the hearts of all its desperate defenders. About ten o'clock on the following morning Lord Nelson's ships had taken their allotted places, and at the signal opened their tremendous fire on the Danish armament. It was returned by the shot of one thousand guns, which spoke in terms, not to be misunderstood, of the desperate bravery with which the Danes would defend their native land, and of the terrible destruction through which the British flag must pass ere it waved in triumph over the citadels of Copenhagen. For more than five hours did these two mighty combatants, the flower of the English navy, and the concentrated strength of Denmark, wage upon each other a warfare of magnificent bravery, but of awful carnage. At the end of that time the batteries of Denmark were silenced, most of her ships had struck, all of them were riddled, one, the Danebro, of eighty guns, had caught fire, and blown up, while six thousand of her brave sons had been taken from her. It was one of the hardest fought battles that Humanity has been called to mourn over. On one side a nation's honor, on another a nation's safety were the stakes. On both sides were marshalled men who knew no inspiration equal to that of their country's call, and paid no heed to personal safety when her safety was endangered.

Young Sommers was witness of it all, in its terribleness, its havoc, and its magnificence. He was then only nine years of age, but with the curiosity and enterprise of youth, he determined to see a sight which is rarely equalled. In the confusion which reigned in every household, he escaped from home, and making for the seaside,