Year: 1871

Limpy, the little girl, had been lost in
the confusion of crossing. She had crept
under q carriage between the wheels, and
being inextricably mingled with the crowd
had been lifted up by man with hand
wagon, who had put her in it and carried
her to Chambers street, where he left her
on the corner with her matches in her lit
tie blue hands; the cold burning her bare
shoulders, scantily protected by her shock
of brown hair, and the frozen snow nip
ping her little bare feet, she wandered on
full of rapture at the sights and sounds Of
Broadway. She sold no matches and
thought of selling none, being all eyes to
see. all ears to hear There were grand
ladies on the sidewalk, with little girls in
furs and velvet and satin hoods. They
were warm enough with their black velvet
leggins, and their nice mittens and gloves.
She ventured to touch blue-eyed mite,
the velvet cloak. 1t was soft and warm,
and her little red tongue curled out in rap
ture. The owner of the mantle was too
busy prattling to her mamma about her
presents TO know that an Outcast had touch
ed the hem of her garments. So Limpy
walked eagerly on after the mantle, which
was to her perfect talisman. At last they
came to Lafayette place, and the little girl
and her mamma entered large house.
lIlmDy WalCleU Oh Tic OulSitiC anu S<ln
the red curtains at the windows. She
wandered up and down, occasionally re-
ceiving the tribute of SNOWFALL, from
some passing boy, and Offering her match
es mechanically to passers-by. Night came
and the windows were brilliantly lighted
and in the house where the black velvet
cloak had disappeared the parlors were
ruddy with the glow OF coal fire. There
was a table set with white napery and
sparkling glasses. Some dishes were put
on the table and the family sat around.
Black mantle sat beside big jolly gentle
man, with red whiSkers, who carved q big
turkey. Limpy felt hungry, but there was
nothing for her. The dinner went on and
was finished. The curtains were drawn
down, the shutters were closed, and the
scene WAS ended for Limpy.


At one corner of this street is q granite
church with huge grey pillars. Around is
an iron railing through which Limpy
stretched her little body. She took refuge
hehind pillar, and built little fire with
her matches. Lulled by the genial
warmth, which lasted but little while
she fell asleep and dreamed. She was in a
great house, and her father and mother
were both there and her sister and brother.
There was meat on the table and roast tur-
key and goose and fruit and candy and cake
of all kinds. Her mother was sober, and
oh, so kind! Her father jumped her up in
his arms and kissed her. The hall got
smaller and smaller, the light fainter and
fainter.


In the morning when the gay old police
man made his rounds he saw the dead
body of a child frozen gu te stiff. There
was pleased smile upon the wan fea-
lures. The tongue was again curling out
of the mouth-the little frozen, silent
tongue that would never more utter the
plaintive cry. "Please, sir, to buy my
matches ~ that never before spoke with 50
much eloquence as then to the rich and
thoughtless and proud. What does it say
to them now? What does the poet say
Thomas Hood, the poet of brightest wit
and of tenderest heart!


II dressed as the noble dress


In cloth of silver and gold,


With silk and costly furs,


In many an ample fold


But never remembered the naked limbs.


That froze with winters cold"