other half deaf from the din. In one long-remembered year, in the old English Protestant church about a mile away, the organ was rebuilt and the organist, a practical Anglo-Saxon, had the useless old pipes sold at the night fair for the benefit of the church. The braying of the high cracked reeds was frightful and never to be forgotten. Thousands upon thousands of people throng the square; even under the clear winter sky it is not cold; the flaring, smoking, wind-blown torches throw strange shadows down upon the old women who behind the booths sit warming their skinny hands over earthen pots of glowing coals. They look on without a smile on their wrinkled faces while their sons and daughters sell little old women of clay, the very images of their mothers, to passing customers. And there is no confusion, no accident, no trouble, there are no drunken men and no pickpockets. But Romans are not like other people. The Golden Carol (Of Melchior, Balthazar, and Gaspar, the Three Kings.) We saw the light shine out a-far, On Christmas in the morning, And straight we knew Christ’s Star it was, Bright beaming in the morning. Then did we fall on bended knee, On Christmas in the morning, And prais’d the Lord, who’d let us see His glory at its dawning. Oh! ever thought be of His Name, On Christmas in the morning, [Illustration: _Memling_ THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI] Who bore for us both grief and shame, Afflictions sharpest scorning. And may we die (when death shall come), On Christmas in the morning, And see in heav’n, our glorious home, The Star of Christmas morning. Babouscka 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. “How glad I am that I may stay indoors!” said Babouscka, holding her hands out to the bright blaze. 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. “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!”