A beautiful Christmas Legend is told of Babouscka, a story known and treasured for centuries by the peoples of all the European countries lying between France and Russia.
In the land that is now Southern Russia, on the night when the Christ-child was born, an old woman sat alone in her little cottage, gazing into the flames that danced on her hearth. Outside, the shrill, cold winds of winter howled dismally. Snow was blanketing the earth in a white carpet, and the ice-covered branches of the trees crackled in the wind. The old woman was glad that she had a fire, that she could sleep warm in her snug little bed, that she did not have to go out into the cold. Suddenly came a rap on her door, and when she had opened it, three stately old men entered her cottage. They had flowing white beards, wore kingly robes and carried expensively wrapped packages.
"We have traveled far, Babouscka," they said, "and we stop to tell you of the Baby Prince who has been born this night in Bethlehem. He comes to rule the world and to teach all men and women to be loving and true. We carry Him gifts. Come with us, Babouscka!" But she shrank back as she heard the storm beating mercilessly upon her little cottage, and would not leave her cozy room. So the old men journeyed on alone through the snow and the wind and the cold. Babouscka could not sleep that night for thinking of what the men had told her, and of the wonderful opportunity they had offered her to see the Prince. At last she decided that, when the dawn came, she would set out alone to find the Babe, and perhaps on the way she would come upon the old men. In the morning she put on her heavy cloak, took up her staff, filled a basket with gold balls, wooden toys, brilliant trinkets, and set out to find the Christ-child. But she had forgotten to ask the three old men the way to Bethlehem, and they had journeyed so far through the night that she could not overtake them.
Up and down the roads she hurried, through woods and fields and towns, saying to all whom she met; "I go to find the Christ-child. 'Where does he lie? I bring him some pretty toys. But no one could tell her the way. Each one shook his head and said, "Farther on, Babouscka, farther on!"
So she traveled for years and years, and never found the child. In Europe, they say that she is still traveling, and that, on Christmas Eve, when children are fast asleep, she comes softly through snowy fields and towns, wrapped in a cloak and carrying a basket. Steadily she enters each house and holds a candle close to the little children's faces. "Is he here?" she whispers. "Is the little Christ-child here?" Then she shakes her head and turns away sorrowfully, sighing, "Farther on, Babouscka, farther on!" But she leaves a toy from her basket for each sleeping little one -- "For His sake," she whispers, and hurries on through the night.
And next morning, on Christmas day, when the children find toys in their beds, they are told that Babouscka must have been there while they slept.
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