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"I will now give you a picture from a large city," said the moon.
"It was terribly cold, and nearly dark, on the last evening of the
old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and darkness, a
poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the
streets. In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a
bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything of her the
whole day, nor had any one given her even a penny. Shivering with
cold and hunger, she crept along. Poor little child, she looked the
picture of misery. The snow-flakes fell on her long, fair hair,
which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.
"Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell
of roast goose, for it was New Year's eve. Yes, she remembered that.
In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the
other, she sank down, and huddled herself together. She had drawn
her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and
she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not
take home even a penny of money. Besides, it was almost as cold at
home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through
which the wind howled, although the largest holes had been stopped
up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost frozen with the
cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could
draw it from the bundle, and strike it against the wall, just to
warm her fingers. She drew one out—"scratch!" how it sputtered as it
burnt. It gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she
held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to
the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with
polished brass feet, and a brass ornament. How the fire burned, and
seemed so beautifully warm, that the child stretched out her feet,
as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the match went out, the
stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the half burnt match
in her hand.
"She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and
when its light fell upon the wall, it became as transparent as a
veil, and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a
snowy white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service,
and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And
what was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish
and waddled across the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast,
toward the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained
nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.
"She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under
a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully
decorated, than the one which she had seen through the glass door at
the rich merchant's. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green
branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show
windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her
hand toward them, and the match went out.
"The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to
her, like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving
behind it a bright streak of fire. 'Some one is dying,' thought the
little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever
loved her, and who was now dead, had told her when a star fell, a
soul was going up to God.
"She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone around
her. In the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining,
yet mild and loving in appearance. 'Grandmother,' cried the little
one. 'O take me with you. I know you will go away when the match
burns out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and
the large, glorious Christmas-tree.' And she made haste to light the
whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother
there. And the matches glowed with a light that was brighter than
the noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so
beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew
upwards in the brightness and joy, far above the earth, where there
was neither cold, nor hunger, nor pain, for they were with God.
"In the dawn of the morning there lay the poor little one, with pale
cheeks, and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall. She had frozen
to death on the last evening of the old year, and the new year's sun
rose and shone upon a little corpse. The child sat, in the stiffness
of death, holding the matches in her hand; one bundle of which was
burnt. I She tried to warm herself,' said some. No one imagined what
beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had entered
with her grandmother, on New Year's day.
The Little Match Seller
A Fictional Short Story by
Agnes Taylor Ketchum & Ida M. Jorgensen
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