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	<title>Nordic Bookblog &#187; A Christmas Tale: The Little Match Seller</title>
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		<title>A Christmas Tale: The Little Match Seller, by Hans Christian Andersen</title>
		<link>http://bookblog.scandinavianbooks.com/a-christmas-tale-the-little-match-seller-by-hans-christian-andersen/</link>
		<comments>http://bookblog.scandinavianbooks.com/a-christmas-tale-the-little-match-seller-by-hans-christian-andersen/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 24 Dec 2009 03:52:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Peter</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Danish writer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hans Christian Andersen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[literature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[A Christmas Tale: The Little Match Seller]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Happy Holidays to all the readers and supporters of this blog! I appreciate the participation, the comments and the support the blog has received in 2009. I hope to create even more compelling content and provide interesting news about the literary scene in Scandinavia, especially about Scandinavian crime fiction, in 2010. I hope to see [...]]]></description>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">Happy Holidays to all the readers and supporters of this blog!</h3>
<p>I appreciate the participation, the comments and the support the blog has received in 2009. I hope to create even more compelling content and provide interesting news about the literary scene in Scandinavia, especially about Scandinavian crime fiction, in 2010. I hope to see you often in 2010!</p>
<p>And what could be more appropriate on a Scandinavian site for the Holidays than a short tale from H. C. Anderson?</p>
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<p>It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast.</p>
<p>In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and  naked feet, roamed through the streets. It is true she had on a pair of  slippers when she left home, but they were not of much use. They were  very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged to her mother, and  the poor little creature had lost them in running across the street to  avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate.</p>
<p><a href="http://bookblog.scandinavianbooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/andersen-tale2.jpg"><img class="alignright size-medium wp-image-734" title="andersen-tale" src="http://bookblog.scandinavianbooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/andersen-tale2-300x116.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="116" /></a>One of the slippers she could not find, and a boy seized upon the  other and ran away with it, saying that he could use it as a cradle,  when he had children of his own. So the little girl went on with her  little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an  old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in  her hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had  anyone given her even a penny.</p>
<p>Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair  hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.</p>
<p>Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell  of roast goose, for it was New-year’s eve—yes, she remembered that. In  a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other,  she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and she dared not  go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home even a  penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her; besides, it was  almost as cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover  them, through which the wind howled, although the largest holes had  been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost  frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good,  if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall,  just to warm her fingers. She drew one out—“scratch!” how it sputtered  as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she  held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to  the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with  polished brass feet and a brass ornament. How the fire burned! and  seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if  to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the match went out, the stove  vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her  hand.</p>
<p>She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and  where its light fell upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil,  and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a snowy  white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service, and a  steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was  still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled  across the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little  girl. Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but the  thick, damp, cold wall before her.</p>
<p>She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under  a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully  decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at the  rich merchant’s. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green  branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the  show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her  hand towards them, and the match went out.</p>
<p>The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her  like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it  a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl,  for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who  was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up  to God.</p>
<p>She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her;  in the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet  mild and loving in her appearance. “Grandmother,” cried the little one,  “O take me with you; I know you will go away when the match burns out;  you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large,  glorious Christmas-tree.” And she made haste to light the whole bundle  of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there. And the  matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day, and  her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She took  the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in brightness  and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger  nor pain, for they were with God.</p>
<p>In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale  cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been frozen  to death on the last evening of the year; and the New-year’s sun rose  and shone upon a little corpse! The child still sat, in the stiffness  of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was  burnt. “She tried to warm herself,” said some. No one imagined what  beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had entered with  her grandmother, on New-year’s day.</p>
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