I have now told you all that is known of the story of Saint Nicholas during his lifetime and even after his death. I think you will agree that we have not yet gone very far in identifying Santa Klaus, the modern Saint Nicholas, with the historic saint who was once Bishop of Myra. It is true that some learned men have thought to find in the legend of the three maidens an answer to a couple of problems that bother the inquiring mind. First they explain that the three purses of gold, which, in pictures by the old Italian masters, figure as three golden balls, and which were looked upon as the special symbol or sign of the charitable Saint Nicholas, are the origin of those three gilt balls which swing over a pawnbroker’s shop in token of that well-spring of human kindness which has earned for him the affectionate title of “uncle.” [Illustration: “Suffer little children to come unto me.” Painting by B. Plockhorst.] If you have a fine sense of humor you will see that the last sentence is sarcasm. And if you have small love for clever explanations that don’t explain, you will reject this theory of the origin of the pawnbroker’s sign and prefer to believe that it sprang from the gilt pills which adorned the shield of the great Medici family of Italy. Medici means doctors. Both the name and the shield were reminders that the family earned their first fame as physicians many years before they became the greatest princes and money changers of Europe. But the other theory, what of that? The other theory is more to the point. It assumes that the Saint Nicholas who was Bishop of Myra is the Santa Klaus of modern Christmas, whom he pre-figured in the fact that he appeared in the night-time and secretly made valuable presents to the children of a certain household. Here is some appearance of truth. In the first place there can be no doubt that Santa Klaus and Saint Nicholas are the same name. Indeed to this day our Christmas saint is known either as Santa Klaus or Saint Nicholas, Klaus in Dutch being “short and sweet” for Nicholaus, and, as such, the same as our Nick for Nicholas. But, after all, there seems to be little likeness in other respects between the saint of the legend and the modern patron of the Christmas season. What connection is there between a single case of charity, performed at no particular time, with the splendid and widespread generosity of Santa Klaus, who every Christmas eve loads himself down with presents for the little ones he loves, and finds means to distribute them all over the land in a single night?