thelittlematchgirlpg2

beat her; and besides, it was cold at home, for
they had nothing over the them but a roof
through which the wind whistled, though straw
and rags stopped the largest holes.

Her small hands were quite numb with the cold.
Ah! a little match might do her good if she only
dared draw one from the bundle, and strike it
against the wall, and warm her fingers at it.
She drew one out. R-r-atch! how it spluttered
and burned! It was a warm bright flame, like a
little candle, when she held her hands over it; it
was a wonderful little light! It really seemed to
the little girl as if she sat before a great
polished stove, with bright brass feet and a
brass cover. The fire burned so nicely; it
warmed her so well, -- the little girl was just
putting out her feet to warm these, too, -- when
out went the flame; the stove was gone; -- she
sat with only the end of the burned match in
her hand.

She struck another; it burned; it gave a light;
and where it shone on the wall, the wall
became thin like a veil, and she could see
through it into the room where a table stood,
spread with a white cloth, and with china on it;
and the roast goose smoked gloriously, stuffed
with apples and dried plums. And what was still
more splendid to behold, the goose hopped
down from the dish, and waddled along the
floor, with a knife and fork in its breast; straight
to the little girl he came. Then