Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1889-02-06
ONLY A LITTLE MATCH GIRL.
By EMMA HOWARD WIGHT.

| Night is coming down over the great
city-a night of snow aud biting wind and
bitter cold-sud all are burrying along
intent on reaching the warmth and shelter
OF home. All save one-a child-who
stands wearily at one of the bleak corners,
and almost s0bbiDgly murmurs to each pas
ser-oy, please buy my Matches" Only
a little match girl, shivering in her rags,
her face thin and wan and blue with cold
and hunger, basket half filed with
matches On her arm, and holding out box
In one small, bare, numbed hand. Far too
common sight in the great city streets to
awaken either interest or pity, so no one
heeds the fsitering voice or notices the lit
tie outstretched hand. The passers-by
grow few and far between; the child's
hand drops YEARLY to her side; her great,
sad, brown eyes fill with tears. "Its no
use, she murmurs, ''nobcdy'll buy, and il
so home without sellin' 'em he'll beat
me. But what's the use of goin' home;
| there's no fire uor nuthin' to eat. and
fathers sure to be drunk and beat me. Obi
I'm so cold-so hungry" She draws her
ragged shawl closer about her and moves
down the street wearily through the snow.
Before the window Of confectionery she
pauses, and looks languidly at the dainties
spread temptingly within. "Ohp' she
cried, "if only had one of those nice
cakes. How nice. oh, how Moe they lookr'
Suddenly thought comes into her mind,
and her brown eyes tighten. A little over q
week ago had been Christmas, and her
dead mother had often told her how on
that day the little child Jesus was born,
and how God loves little children for His
sake-not only those who are never cold,
nor hungry, nor miserable, but especially
the children OF poverty. because little Jesus
was poor Himself. ''I'll ask Him." she
murmurs, and. drawing back in the shad-
ow, she falls on her knees in the snow, and
raises her little white face and claspei
hands towards heaven; Dear Lord, for
the sake of the little child Jesus give me
one of those cakes, for | am so very, worry
hungry" Then she springs up and runs
back to the window. A servant girl is
coming out with a bundle in her hand. She
pauses at the sight of the small, wan face
pressed against the window, "Poor little
thing" she says, pityiDgly; 81 am sure
she is hungry, and how ragged and cold
and miserable she looks Here, you poor
little creature, take this, and do go home
out of the cold" A moment more aud che
is gone; but the little match-girl stands,
trembling with rapture, for in her hand is
one of the largest and incest cakes the
window contains. Holding her treasure
lightly to her breast, she turns to seek a
doorway g little way down, which is shel-
ter from the cold. Here she sits down, and
takes the first bite from the cake. All!
how good it tastes: how kind the dear Lord
was to hear her prayer! AS she is about TO
take a secoud bite, there is light touch on
her arm, and looking up she sees a little
boy standing beside her. He is clothed in
rags His fair, sweet face is pale and wan:
his childish blue eyes are full of tears; his
head is bare, ard the snow lies thickly on
his bright, golden curls. He holds out his
little hands towards her, and muTmurs
falteringly. 81 am SO huogry-so<5ery hun
gry." For moment the little match-girl
draws back, ,clutching the cake closer to he.
Sire is buUgry also. as hungry as this beaus.
iful golden haired boy. Ah! what sac. ps-
tient, sweat, little face it is. Perhaps ho IL
not used to being hungry rs she is, and
some one will, perhaps, give her d crust ia
the morning. Take it, she whispers,
and laying the cake in his outstretched
hands, she springs up and runs away. 1t
seems long time that she wanders abont
the dark streets; then suddenly her weary
limbs give way, and she sinks down into
the snow. How soft iE is; she DOESN'T feel
colo nor hungry now, and the snow-hakes
have changed toto white-robed angels with
golden wings, and above them ali she sees
the child to whom she gave the cake: hut
no longer in rags, but clad in shining, gilt
tering robes, with halo of light about his
curly golden head. He smiles and holds
out his arms towards her, and she hears
his sweet childish voice saying, "Suffer lit
tie children to come unto Me, for of such
is the kingdom of heaven"
When the morning came only little
match girl lying dead in the snow, with
smile on the small white lips which had
rarely been there in the short sad life.
Dead-gone where neither cold, nor hun
ger, nor blows can reach her. Safe with
the child Jesus.