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<h2> XXII. THE LEGEND OF BABOUSCKA* </h2>
<h3> *From "The Children's Hour," published by the Milton Bradley Co. </h3>
<p>ADAPTED FROM THE RUSSIAN</p>
<p>It was the night the dear Christ-Child came to Bethlehem. In a country far
away from Him, an old, old woman named Babouscka sat in her snug little
house by her warm fire. The wind was drifting the snow outside and howling
down the chimney, but it only made Babouscka's fire burn more brightly.</p>
<p>"How glad I am that I may stay indoors," said Babouscka, holding her hands
out to the bright blaze.</p>
<p>But suddenly she heard a loud rap at her door. She opened it and her
candle shone on three old men standing outside in the snow. Their beards
were as white as the snow, and so long that they reached the ground. Their
eyes shone kindly in the light of Babouscka's candle, and their arms were
full of precious things—boxes of jewels, and sweet-smelling oils,
and ointments.</p>
<p>"We have travelled far, Babouscka," they said, "and we stop to tell you of
the Baby Prince born this night in Bethlehem. He comes to rule the world
and teach all men to be loving and true. We carry Him gifts. Come with us,
Babouscka."</p>
<p>But Babouscka looked at the drifting snow, and then inside at her cozy
room and the crackling fire. "It is too late for me to go with you, good
sirs," she said, "the weather is too cold." She went inside again and shut
the door, and the old men journeyed on to Bethlehem without her. But as
Babouscka sat by her fire, rocking, she began to think about the Little
Christ-Child, for she loved all babies.</p>
<p>"To-morrow I will go to find Him," she said; "to-morrow, when it is light,
and I will carry Him some toys."</p>
<p>So when it was morning Babouscka put on her long cloak and took her staff,
and filled her basket with the pretty things a baby would like—gold
balls, and wooden toys, and strings of silver cobwebs—and she set
out to find the Christ-Child.</p>
<p>But, oh, Babouscka had forgotten to ask the three old men the road to
Bethlehem, and they travelled so far through the night that she could not
overtake them. Up and down the road she hurried, through woods and fields
and towns, saying to whomsoever she met: "I go to find the Christ-Child.
Where does He lie? I bring some pretty toys for His sake."</p>
<p>But no one could tell her the way to go, and they all said: "Farther on,
Babouscka, farther on." So she travelled on and on and on for years and
years—but she never found the little Christ-Child.</p>
<p>They say that old Babouscka is travelling still, looking for Him. When it
comes Christmas Eve, and the children are lying fast asleep, Babouscka
comes softly through the snowy fields and towns, wrapped in her long cloak
and carrying her basket on her arm. With her staff she raps gently at the
doors and goes inside and holds her candle close to the little children's
faces.</p>
<p>"Is He here?" she asks. "Is the little Christ-Child here?" And then she
turns sorrowfully away again, crying: "Farther on, farther on!" But before
she leaves she takes a toy from her basket and lays it beside the pillow
for a Christmas gift. "For His sake," she says softly, and then hurries on
through the years and forever in search of the little Christ-Child.</p>
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