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390 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