Then spake the first king, and he said: 
  “O Child, most heavenly, bright, and fair! 
I bring this crown to Bethlehem town. 
  For Thee, and only Thee, to wear;
  So give a heavenly crown to me
  When I shall come at last to Thee!”

The second, then.  “I bring Thee here
  This royal robe, O Child!” he cried;
“Of silk ’tis spun, and such an one
  There is not in the world beside;
So in the day of doom requite
Me with a heavenly robe of white!”

The third king gave his gift, and quoth: 
  “Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring,
And with these twain would I most fain
  Anoint the body of my King;
  So may their incense sometime rise
  To plead for me in yonder skies!”

Thus spake the three kings of Cologne,
  That gave their gifts and went their way;
And now kneel I in prayer hard by
  The cradle of the Child to-day;
  Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring
  As offering unto Christ, my King.

Yet have I brought a gift the Child
  May not despise, however small;
For here I lay my heart to-day,
  And it is full of love to all. 
  Take Thou the poor but loyal thing,
  My only tribute, Christ, my King!

BABOUSCKA

ADELAIDE SKEEL

If you were a Russian child you would not watch to see Santa Klaus come down the chimney; but you would stand by the windows to catch a peep at poor Babouscka as she hurries by.

Who is Babouscka?  Is she Santa Klaus’ wife?

No, indeed.  She is only a poor little crooked wrinkled old woman, who comes at Christmas time into everybody’s house, who peeps into every cradle, turns back every coverlid, drops a tear on the baby’s white pillow, and goes away very sorrowful.

And not only at Christmas time, but through all the cold winter, and especially in March, when the wind blows loud, and whistles and howls and dies away like a sigh, the Russian children hear the rustling step of the Babouscka.  She is always in a hurry.  One hears her running fast along the crowded streets and over the quiet country fields.  She seems to be out of breath and tired, yet she hurries on.

Whom is she trying to overtake?

She scarcely looks at the little children as they press their rosy faces against the window pane and whisper to each other, “Is the Babouscka looking for us?”

No, she will not stop; only on Christmas eve will she come up-stairs into the nursery and give each little one a present.  You must not think she leaves handsome gifts such as Santa Klaus brings for you.  She does not bring bicycles to the boys or French dolls to the girls.  She does not come in a gay little sleigh drawn by reindeer, but hobbling along on foot, and she leans on a crutch.  She has her old apron filled with candy and cheap toys, and the children all love her dearly.  They watch to see her come, and when one hears a rustling, he cries, “Lo! the Babouscka!” then all others look, but one must turn one’s head very quickly or she vanishes.  I never saw her myself.