The Little Match Girl, Page 3
A classic tale by Hans Christian Anderson
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, 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, to the little girl. Then the match went
out, and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before
She lit 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 girl stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went
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.
“Someone 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.
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