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Now I Lay me Down to Sleep.
tN the qniet nursery chambers,
Snowy pillows yet unpressed,
See the forms of little children
Kneeling white-robed for their rest,
?All in quiet nursery chambers,
While the dusky shadows creep.
Hoar the voices of the children —
“Now I lay me down to sleep.”
In the meadow and the mountain
Calmly shine the winter stars,
But across the glistening lowlands
Slants the moonlight’s silver bars.
In the silence and the darkness,
Darkness growing still more deep,
Listen to the little children
Praying God their souls to keep.
“If we die”—so pray the children,
And the mother’s head droops low ;
(One from out her fold is sleeping
Deep beneath the winter’s snow,)
“Take our souls;” and past the casement
Flits a gleam of crystal light,
Like the trailing of His garments,
W alking evermore in white.
Little souls that stand expectant,
Listen at tho gate of life :
Hearing, far away, the murmur
Os the tumult and the strife:
We, who fight beneath those banners,
Meeting ranks of foemen there,
Find a deeper, broader meaning
In your simple vesper prayer.
When your hands shall grasp this standard,
Which to-day you watch from far,
When your deeds shall shape the conflict
In this universal war,
Pray to Him, the God of battles,
Whose strong eyes can never sleep,
In the warring of temptation,
Firm and true your souls to keep.
When the combat ends, and slowly
Clears the smoke from out the skies,
Then far down the purple distance,
All the noise of battle dies.
When the last night’s solemn shadows
Settle down on you and me,
May the love that never faileth
Take our souls eternally.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
ELLEN HUNTER:
A STORY OF THE WAR.
DEDICATED TO THE CHILDREN OF THE SOUTH BY ONE
WHO HAS BEEN AN EYE-WITNESS TO TIIEIR
SORROWS AND THEIR SUFFERINGS.
BY BYRD LYTTLE, OF VIRGINIA.
CHAPTER XX.
A VISIT FROM THE YANKEES.
LLEX did not have much
difficult Y keeping
awake, for she was so
much excited that she
found it impossible to sleep, though
rqjr B he was very much fatigued from
K gjpj her labors of the day. George and
herself talked together until near
1 midnight, when he, finding that
everything remained quiet, fell asleep.
It was about two o’clock, when Ellen
thought she heard the sound of horses
feet and the clanking of sabres. She rose
quietly from her seat, so as not to disturb
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
George until she was certain of the fact,
and went out to the front door. Just as
she opened it, she saw two men walking
around the house, leading their horses,
and several others, mounted, in the yard.
She went back, and placing her hand on
George’s shoulder said :
“Here they are; what must I do? ’
In an instant George was awake, and
hearing the sound of footsteps, knew El
len was correct. He tokl her to go up
stairs, as quickly as she could, and wake
her mother, telling her not to be fright
ened, that it was only one or tw T o men,
who would probably soon go away.
Ellen woke up Aunt Polly, so that she
might sit with her mother after she had
told her. Mrs. Hunter was not as much
alarmed as thej r expected she would be,
and, as is often the case with very weak
jiersons, showed as much nerve on this
occasion as if she had been well and
strong.
When Ellen came down stairs, she
found one of the men knocking at the
back door. She took a candle in her
hand and opened the door. She had no
sooner done so than a rough-looking man
in Yankee uniform came up the steps,
saying:
“Give us a light, will you?”
“ What do you want ?” said Ellen in as
firm a tone as she could.
“ I want to search the house, and if you
don’t let us in quick, I’ll burn the old se
cesh den down.”
“What are you going to search it for?”
she inquired ; “ there is nothing in it but
a sick man, and some women and children.
Who ordered you to search it?”
“I’ve got verbal orders; so give us
your light and your meat-house key.
We’ll look in that first.”
Ellen gave him the key and the light,
and then, shutting and locking the door,
went back to George.
“Now what must I do, George? The
man is drunk, and has at least ten men
with him.”
“There is nothing to do, Ellie, but to
let them in. Only keep up, and don’t let
them see how much frightened you are.
May be it will not be as bad as you think
for.”
By this time the men were knocking
at the door again. Ellen opened it, and
as she did so she heard the man who had
first spoken to her order the others to
dismount. None of them obeyed the or
der, and Ellen immediately suspected tho
man who gave it had not the authority
to do so. She thought she would make
one more effort to keep them from enter
ing the house, so she said:
“ What is it you are going to search
this house for, and who gave you these
verbal orders ?”
“I’m searching it for rebels,” said the
man. “I saw six here this morning my,
self, and I want to know where they
are?”
“ I can assure you,” said Ellen, “there
has not been a Confederate soldier here
since our army left.”
“That sort of talk won’t do forme”
said he, and then, turning to his men or
dered them again to dismount.
Ellen heard one of them say “ he was’nt
going to have a hand in any such piece
of work,” and thinking from this that he
must have rather better feelings than the
others, she went down the steps, and
said :
“ I wish you would come if the others
do. I know you will not let them hurt
us.”
“Very well, sis,” said the man, “I’ll
come, and I’ll soon make them come out,
too.”
Three men followed Ellen into the
house. She held the light in her hand,
and when she reached George’s room she
said :
“ There is no one in there but my broth
er, who is a cripple.”
“ I guess I’ve seen cripples like him
before,” said the man. “Come in, men,
and let’s see if we can’t make him walk.”
Ellen rushed forward to George’s side,
and said :
“Don't hurt him—please don’t! In
deed he can’t walk.”
But the man would not listen to her.
He took hold of George’s arm and tried
to make him stand up. Os course it was
impossible. The man whom Ellen had
asked to come in, seeing the expression
of agony on George’s countenance, said:
“ I say, Jim, this is too bad. Don’t you
see the poor fellow can’t stand up. I
guess if the captain knowed how you was a
carrying on here, he would make you pay
for it.”
At hearing this the man let George
alone, and they all went up stairs. Ihcy
went first into Mrs. Hunter’s room. Ihe\
found her dressed, lying on the outside of
the bed. She did not move as they came
up to the bedside, but looked into each
of their faces as they bent over her. Ih ( }
were soon satisfied there was nothing
there they wanted; but as they P UNS(d
out, seeing Aunt Polly still keeping hu
seat at the head of Mrs. Hunter’s bed, one
of them said :
“ I say, aunty, you needn’t sit thei e an)
longer. You are just as good as ) oul
missis now.”
“I don’t know about dat," said Ann-
Polly, “ but I does know I’se a heap better