Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-05-04

(Hans Christian Anderson, 1905-l875, was a
Danish novelist and story writer, especially specially
famous for his fairy tales, which delight
old and young alike.J
1t was late on a bitterly cold, snowy
New Year Eve. A poor little girl was
wandering i'll the dark, cold streets.
She was bareheaded and barefooted.
She certainly had had slippers on when
she left home, but they were not much
good, for they were so large. They mad
last been worn by her mother. and they
fell off the poor little girls feet when she
was running across the street to avoid
two carriages that were rolling rapidly
by. One of the shoes could not be
found at all, and the other was picked
up by a boy, who ran off with 1t, say
ing that it would do for a cradle when
he had children of his own. So the
poor little girl had to go on with her
little bare feet, which were red and
blue with the cold.
She carried quantity Of matches in
her old apron and held a packet OF
them in her hand. Nobody had bought
anything of her during all the long
day; nobody had even given her a
copper. The poor little creature was
hungry and periShing with cold, and
she looked the picture of misery.
The Snowfiakes fell upon her long
yellow hair which curled so prettily
around her face, but she paid no atten-
ton to that. Lights were shining from
every window, and there was most
delicious odor of roast goose in the
streets. for it was New Year Eve-she
could not forget that. She found a
corner where one house projected a
little beyond the next one, and here she
crouched, drawing up her feet under
her, but she was colder than ever.
She did not dare go home, for she
had not sold any matches and had not
a single penny. Her father would beat
her. Besides, it was almost as cold at
home as it was here. They only had
he roof over them, and the wind
Whistled through it, although they
stuffed up the biggest cracks with rags
and straw.
Her little hands were almost dead
with cold. Oh, one little match would
do some good! Dared she pull one out
of the bundle and strike it on the wall
to warm her fingers? She pulled one
out-'riSh," how it Spluttered, how 1t
blazed!
The match burned with a bright
clear flame, just like a little candle,
when she held her hand around it. 1t
was a very curious candle, too. The
little girl fancied that she was sitting
in front of a big stove with polished
brass feet and handles. There was a
splendid fire blazing in it and warming
her so beautifully, but What hap
pened? Just as she was stretching out
her feet to warm them the blaze went
out, the stove vanished, and she was
left sitting with the end of the burned
out match in her hand.
She struck new match, and it
burned, blazed up. and where the light
fell on the wall it became transparent
like gauze, and she could see right
through it into the room. The table
was spread with a snowy cloth and
pretty china. A roast goose, stuffed
with apples and pruneS, was steaming
on it. And what was even better the
goose hoped from the dish with the
carving knife and fork sticking in his
back. and it waddled across the floor.
1t came right up to the poor child and
then-the match went out. and there
was nothing to be seen but the thick,
black wall.
She lighted still another match. This
time she seemed to be sitting under a
lovely Christmas tree. 1t was much