restraint,
and the little lonely waif was turned adrift. Little Ned seemed never
quite alone, for he frequently talked alone, asked questions which
seemed to have been answered--in fact lived in a world, peopled by his
own childish fancy, and passed unharmed through danger and sin, where
one, more conscious of evil, would have fallen. How unlike the world he
was in, was the one he pictured to himself. At night he crawled into
empty boxes, scarcely knowing what it was to go to sleep without feeling
hungry, but the Goddess of dreams wove golden threads through the brain
of little Ned, weaving her most brilliant colors, through the warp and
woof of his childish dreams, as if in compensation for the sombre colors
and gloom of his waking moments, and no child lying on his bed of down,
placed there by the careful hands of nurse, and receiving the mother's
good night kiss, ever had sweeter, purer dreams, than the friendless,
homeless match-seller on his bed of straw. Mothers, do you ever think
when you see your children safe in their warm beds, of the numberless
little waifs in large cities, whose resting places are pallets of straw,
whose good night kisses are the cold breath of poverty?

There was very little variety in the life of little Ned. Waking in the
morning, he would start out with the matches, selling them if he could,
if not, hunger, to which he was so accustomed, was his companion. So
from day to day it was the same story, the only variation, the only
change was in his dreams and visions; hunger could not deprive him of
that solace, the cold could not freeze the warm fancies and
imaginations. One morning in early spring little Ned awoke from his
pleasant dreams and started on his route. Passing numberless people,
some stopped to look at him carefully, for his face had such a strange
look, his eyes had such a dreamy expression, and at times he smiled to
himself as he moved along. But people did not stop long, for who in a
large, busy city has time to enquire into the life and means of living
of a little match seller. All day long, he trudged his weary way, and
towards night-fall he found himself nearer the suburbs than he had ever
been before. He passes a house which is brilliantly lighted, and strains
of gay music reach his ear. Moving to the window, which was open, he
gazes with open-eyed wonder at the scene within. It is evidently a
children's party for little fairy forms are flitting about in a merry
dance, an