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 child softly; for her grandmother,
the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her
that whenever a star falls a soul mounts up to God. She struck yet another match against the wall, and again it was light;
and in the brightness there appeared before her the dear old
grandmother, bright and radiant, yet sweet and mild, and happy as she
had never looked on earth. "Oh, grandmother," cried the child, "take me with you. I know you will
go away when the match burns out. You, too, will vanish, like the warm
stove, the splendid New Year's feast, the beautiful Christmas tree." And
lest her grandmother should disappear, she rubbed the whole bundle of
matches against the wall. And the matches burned with such a brilliant light that it became
brighter than noonday. Her grandmother had never looked so grand and
beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both flew together,
joyously and gloriously, mounting higher and higher, far above the
earth; and for them there was neither hunger, nor cold, nor care--they
were with God. But in the corner, at the dawn of day, sat the poor girl, leaning
against the wall, with red cheeks and smiling mouth--frozen to death on
the last evening of the old year. Stiff and cold she sat, with the
matches, one bundle of which was burned. "She wanted to warm herself, poor little thing," people said. No one
imagined what sweet visions she had had, or how gloriously she had gone
with her grandmother to enter upon the joys of a new year. [Illustration]




THE LOVING PAIR


A WHIPPING Top and a Ball lay close together in a drawer among other
playthings. One day the Top said to the Ball, "Since we are living so
much together, why should we not be lovers?" But the Ball, being made of morocco leather, thought herself a very
high-bred lady, and would hear nothing of such a proposal. On the next
day the little boy to whom the playthings belonged came to the drawer;
he painted the Top red and yellow, and drove a bright brass nail right
through the head of it; it looked very smart indeed as it spun around
after that. "Look at me," said he to the Ball. "What do you say to me now; why
should we not make a match of it, and become man and wife? We suit each
other so well!--you can jump and I can dance. There would not be a
happier pair in the whole world!" "Do you think so?" said the Ball. "Perhaps you do not know that my
father and mother were morocco slippers, and that I have a Spanish cork
in my body!" "Yes, but then I am made of mahogany," said the Top; "the Mayor himself
turned me. He has a turning lathe of his own, and he took great pleasure
in making me." "Can I trust you in this?" asked the Ball. "May I never be whipped again, if what I tell you is not true," returned
the Top. "You plead your cause well," said the Ball; "but I am not free to listen
to your proposal. I am as good as engaged to a swallow. As often as I
fly up into the air, he puts his head out of his nest, and says, 'Will
you?' In my heart I have said Yes to him, and that is almost the same as
an engagement; but I'll promise never to forget you." "A deal of good that will do me," said the Top, and they left off
speaking to each other. Next day the Ball was taken out. The Top saw it fly like a bird into the
air--so high that it passed quite out of sight. It came back again; but
each time that it touched the earth, it sprang higher than before. This
must have been either from its longing to mount higher, like the
swallow, or because it had the Spanish cork in its body. On the ninth
time the little Ball did not return. The boy sought and sought, but all
in vain, for it was gone. "I know very well where she is," sighed the Top. "She is in the
swallow's nest, celebrating her wedding." The more the Top thought of this the more lovely the Ball became to him;
that she could not be his bride seemed to make his love for her the
greater. She had preferred another rather than himself, but he could not
forget her. He twirled round and round, spinning and humming, but always
thinking of the Ball, who grew more and more beautiful the more he
thought of her. And thus several years passed,--it came to be an old
love,--and now the Top was no longer young! One day he was gilded all over; never in his life had he been half so
handsome. He was now a golden top, and bravely he spun, humming all the
time. But once he sprang too high--and was gone! They looked everywhere for him,--even in the cellar,--but he was nowhere
to be found. Where was he? He had jumped into the dustbin, and lay among cabbage stalks, sweepings,
dust, and all sorts of rubbish that had fallen from the gutter in the
roof. "Alas! my gay gilding will soon be spoiled here. What sort of trumpery
can I have got among?" And then he peeped at a long cabbage stalk which
lay much too near him, and at something strange and round, which
appeared like an apple, but was not. It was an old Ball that must have
lain for years in the gutter, and been soaked through and through with
water. "Thank goodness! at last I see an equal; one of my own sort, with whom I
can talk," said the Ball, looking earnestly at the gilded Top. "I am
myself made of real morocco, sewed together by a young lady's hands, and
within my body is a Spanish cork; though no one would think it now. I
was very near marrying the swallow, when by a sad chance I fell into the
gutter on the roof. I have lain there five years, and I am now wet
through and through. You may think what a wearisome situation it has
been for a young lady like me." The Top made no reply. The more he thought of his old love, and the more
he heard, the more sure he became that this was indeed she. Then came the housemaid to empty the dustbin. "Hullo!" she cried; "why,
here's the gilt Top." And so the Top was brought again to the playroom,
to be used and honored as before, while nothing was again heard of the
Ball.