They ceased; and Bertha, in great astonishment, inquired,—
“What! are you St. Nicholas? Or,” she added, recollecting herself, “perhaps you are his sisters?”
The visitors resumed their chant:—
“Maiden, no! Thy Christmas saint
Beareth gifts of mortal taint:
At the touch of sure decay
They shall vanish quite away.
Those we bear are not of earth:
Theirs has been a higher birth.”
The visitors ceased; and one of their number, coming forward, commenced anew:—