Good Stories for Holidays | Page 7

smoked gloriously, stuffed with apples and
dried plums. And what was still more splendid to behold, the goose
hopped down from the dish, and waddled along the floor, with a knife
and fork in its breast; straight to the little girl he came. Then the match
went out, and only the thick, damp, cold wall was before her.
She lighted another. Then she was sitting under a beautiful Christmas
tree; it was greater and finer than the one she had seen through the glass
door at the rich merchant's. Thousands of candles burned upon the
green branches, and colored pictures like those in the shop windows
looked down upon them. The little girl stretched forth both hands
toward them; then the match went out. The Christmas lights went
higher and higher. She saw that now they were stars in the sky: one of
them fell and made a long line of fire.
``Now some one is dying,'' said the little girl, for her old grandmother,
the only person who had been good to her, but who was now dead, had
said: ``When a star falls a soul mounts up to God.''
She rubbed another match against the wall; it became bright again, and

in the light there stood the old grandmother clear and shining, mild and
lovely.
``Grandmother!'' cried the child. ``Oh, take me with you! I know you
will go when the match is burned out. You will go away like the warm
stove, the nice roast goose, and the great glorious Christmas tree!''
And she hastily rubbed the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to
hold her grandmother fast. And the matches burned with such a glow
that it became brighter than in the middle of the day; grandmother had
never been so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl up in her
arms, and both flew in the light and the joy so high, so high! and up
there was no cold, nor hunger, nor care--they were with God.
But in the corner by the house sat the little girl, with red cheeks and
smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the Old Year. The
New Year's sun rose upon the little body, that sat there with the
matches, of which one bundle was burned. She wanted to warm herself,
the people said. No one knew what fine things she had seen, and in
what glory she had gone in with her grandmother to the New Year's
Day.
THE TWELVE MONTHS
A SLAV LEGEND
BY ALEXANDER CHODZKO (ADAPTED)
There was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child
by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She
loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier
than her own daughter.
Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not
understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The
hardest work fell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked,
washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all
this without any help.
Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and
go to one amusement after another.
But Marouckla never complained. She bore the scoldings and bad
temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of
a lamb. But this angelic behavior did not soften them. They became
even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more
beautiful, while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother

determined to get rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she
remained, her own daughter would have no suitors. Hunger, every kind
of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life
miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew ever sweeter and more
charming.
One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets.
``Listen,'' cried she to Marouckla, ``you must go up the mountain and
find me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh
and sweet-scented-do you hear?''
``But, my dear sister, whoever heard of violets blooming in the snow?''
said the poor orphan.
``You wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?'' said Helen.
``Not another word. Off with you! If you do not bring me some violets
from the mountain forest I will kill you.''
The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with
vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon
her. The weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay
deep, and there was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered
hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and
shivered with cold, and prayed