n under her her little feet,
but still she grew colder and colder; yet she dared not go home, for she
had sold no matches and could not bring a penny of money. Her father
would certainly beat her; and, besides, it was cold enough at home, for
they had only the house-roof above them, and though the largest holes
had been stopped with straw and rags, there were left many through which
the cold wind could whistle.

[Illustration: Where the light fell upon the wall it became
transparent.]

And now her little hands were nearly frozen with cold. Alas! a single
match might do her good if she might only draw it from the bundle, rub
it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. So at last she drew one
out. Whisht! How it blazed and burned! It gave out a warm, bright flame
like a little candle, as she held her hands over it. A wonderful little
light it was. It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a
great iron stove with polished brass feet and brass shovel and tongs. So
blessedly it burned that the little maiden stretched out her feet to
warm them also. How comfortable she was! But lo! the flame went out, the
stove vanished, and nothing remained but the little burned match in her
hand.

She rubbed another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and where
the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a veil, so that
she could see through it into the room. A snow-white cloth was spread
upon the table, on which was a beautiful china dinner-service, while a
roast goose, stuffed with apples and prunes, steamed famously and sent
forth a most savory smell. And what was more delightful still, and
wonderful, the goose jumped from the dish, with knife and fork still in
its breast, and waddled along the floor straight to the little girl.

But the match went out then, and nothing was left to her but the thick,
damp wall.

She lighted another match. And now she was under a most beautiful
Christmas tree, larger and far more prettily trimmed than the one she
had seen through the glass doors at the rich merchant's. Hundreds of wax
tapers were burning on the green branches, and gay figures, such as she
had seen in shop windows, looked down upon her. The child stretched out
her hands to them; then the match went out.

Still the lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw
them now as stars in heaven, and one of them fell, forming a long trail
of fire.

"Now some one is dying," murmured the