Children's story
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Indian (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Once upon a time, a little girl tried to make a living by selling matches in the street. It was New Year's Eve, and the snow clad streets were deserted. From brightly lit windows came the tinkle of laughter and the sound of singing. People were getting ready to bring in the new year, but the poor little match girl sat sadly beside the fountain. Her rag dress and warn shawl did not keep out the cold, and she tried to keep her bare feet from touching the frozen ground. She had in sold one box of matches or a day, and she was frightened to go home, for her father would certainly be angry. It wouldn't be much warmer anyway. In the draughty attic that was her home. The little girl's finger was stiff with cold. If only she could light a match. But what would her father say? It's such a waste, faltering Lee. She took out a match and lit it. What a nice, warm flame in the little match girl cupped her hand over it, and as she did so, she magically saw in its light a big, bright burning stove. She held out her hands to the heat. Just then, the match went out and the vision faded. The night seemed blacker than before, and it was getting colder. A shiver ran through the little girl's thin body. After hesitating for a long time, she struck another match on the wall, and this time the glimmer turned the wall into a great sheet of crystal. Beyond that stood a fine table, laden with food and lit by a candlestick, holding out her arms towards the plates. The little match girl seem to pass through the glass. Then the match went out and the magic faded. Poor theme. In just a few seconds, she had got a glimpse of everything that life had denied her warmth and good things to eat. Her eyes filled with tears, and she lifted her gaze to the lit windows, praying that she to might know a little of such happiness.