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Speaker 1: The Little match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen. It was

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terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of

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the old year, and the snow was falling fast. In

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the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl with

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bare head and naked feet roamed through the streets. It

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is true she had on a pair of slippers when

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she left home, but they were not of much use.

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They were very large, so large indeed, that they had

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belonged to her mother, and the poor little creature had

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lost them in running across the street to avoid two

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carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One

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of the slippers she could not find, and a boy

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seized upon the other and ran away with it, saying

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that he could use it as a cradle when he

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had children of his own. So the little girl went

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on with her little naked feet, which were quite red

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and blue with the cold, in an old apron. She

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carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of

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them in her hands. No one had bought anything of

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her the whole day, nor had any one given her

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even a penny. Shivering with the cold and hunger, she

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crept along, poor little child. She looked the picture of misery.

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The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung

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in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.

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Lights were shining from every window, and there was a

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savory smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve. Yes,

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she remembered that in a corner between two houses, one

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of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and

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huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her,

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but she could not keep off the cold, and she

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dared not go home, for she had sold no matches.

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It could not take home even a penny of money.

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Her father would certainly beat her. Besides, it was almost

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as cold at home as here, for they had only

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a roof to cover them, through which the wind howled.

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Although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw

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and rags. Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah,

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perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she

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could draw it from the bundle and strike it against

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the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew out

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one scratch. How it sputtered as it burnt, it gave

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a warm, bright light like a little candle. As she

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held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light.

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It seemed to the little girl that she was sitting

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by a large iron stove with polished brows feet and

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a brass ornament. How the fire burned and seemed so

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beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as

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if to warm them. When low, the flame of the

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match went out, the stove vanished. As she had only

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the remains of the half burnt match in her hand,

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she rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into

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a flame, and where its light fell upon the wall,

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it became as transparent as a veil. As she could

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see into the room, the table was covered with a

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snowy white tablecloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service

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and a steaming roast goose stuffed with apples and dried plums.

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And what was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down

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from the dish and waddled across the floor with a

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knife and fork in its breast to the little girl.

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Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but

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the thick, damp, cold wall before her. She lighted another match,

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and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas tree.

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It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one

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she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchants.

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Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green branches, and

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colored pictures like those she had seen in the show windows.

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Looked down upon it all. The little One stretched out

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her hand towards them, and the match went out. The

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Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to

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her like the stars in the sky. Then she saw

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a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire.

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Some one is dying, thought the little girl, For her

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old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her,

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and who was now dead, had told her that when

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a star falls, a soul was going up to God.

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She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the

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light shone round her. In the brightness stood her old grandmother,

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clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance.

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Grandmother cried the little one, Oh, take me with you.

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I know you will go away when the match burns out,

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you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose,

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and the large glorious Christmas tree. And she made haste

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to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished

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to keep her grandmother there. And the matches glowed with

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a light that was brighter than the noonday, and her

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grandmother had never appeared so large, were so beautiful. She

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took the little girl in her arms, and they both

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flew upwards in brightness and joy, far above the earth,

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where there was neither cold, nor hunger nor pain, for

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they were with God. In the dawn of morning, there

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lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth,

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leaning against the wall. She had been frozen to death

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on the last evening of the year, and the new

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Year's son rose and shone upon a little corpse. The

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child still sat in the stiffness of death, holding the

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matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt.

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She tried to warm herself, said some. No one imagined

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what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory

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she had entered with her grandmother On New Year's Day,