Speaker 1: The Little match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen. 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 the darkness, a poor little girl with
bare head and naked feet roamed through the streets. It
is true she had on a pair of slippers when
she left home, but they were not of much use.
They were very large, so large indeed, that they had
belonged to her mother, and the poor little creature had
lost them in running across the street to avoid two
carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One
of the slippers she could not find, and a boy
seized upon the other and ran away with it, saying
that he could use it as a cradle when he
had children of his own. So the little girl went
on with her little naked feet, which were quite red
and blue with the cold, 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 the cold and hunger, she
crept along, poor little child. She looked the picture of misery.
The snowflakes 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.
It could not take home even a penny of money.
Her father would certainly beat her. Besides, it was almost
as cold at home as here, for they had only
a 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 out
one 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 brows 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 low, the flame of the
match went out, the stove vanished. As 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 where its light fell upon the wall,
it became as transparent as a veil. As she could
see into the room, the table was covered with a
snowy white tablecloth, 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 to 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
she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchants.
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 towards 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 that when
a star falls, a soul was going up to God.
She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the
light shone round her. In the brightness stood her old grandmother,
clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance.
Grandmother cried the little one, Oh, 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 noonday, and her
grandmother had never appeared so large, were so beautiful. She
took the little girl in her arms, and they both
flew upwards in 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 morning, there
lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth,
leaning against the wall. She had been frozen to death
on the last evening of the year, and the new
Year's son rose and shone upon a little corpse. The
child still sat in the stiffness of death, holding the
matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt.
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,