Hans Christian Andersen's tender tale of a barefoot child, a freezing New Year's Eve, and the visions in each small flame.
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Each new word is hidden in a sentence. Read it aloud and say what you think the bold word means from the rest of the sentence — then reveal it and see how close you were.
Read each part. After it, there's a quick comprehension check (try the questions from memory first), then one thing to discuss.
It was the last evening of the year — bitterly cold, and snow was falling in the gathering dark. Through the frozen streets went a little girl, barefoot and bareheaded. She had set out from home in a pair of slippers, but they were far too big for her, and she had lost them both hurrying across the road as two carriages swept by. One was nowhere to be found; the other a boy had run off with, laughing.
So she walked on, her small feet blue with cold. In an old apron she carried a bundle of matches, and she held one packet in her hand. All day long no one had bought a single one from her; no one had given her so much as a coin. Cold and hungry, she crept along, the very picture of misery, while the snow settled on her long fair hair.
Lights shone from every window, and the wonderful smell of roast goose drifted into the street, for it was New Year's Eve. In a sheltered corner between two houses she sat down and drew her little feet up under her, but she was colder than ever, and she did not dare go home. She had sold nothing, and her father would be angry — and besides, she thought, home was almost as cold as the street, for the wind whistled in through every crack.
1. Why is the little girl out in the streets, and what has happened to her shoes?
2. Why is she afraid to go home?
1. She is trying to sell matches on New Year's Eve. She set out in slippers that were too big; she lost one crossing the road and a boy ran off with the other, so she is now barefoot.
2. She has sold nothing all day and fears her father will be angry — and home is nearly as cold as the street, with wind coming through the cracks.
Her little hands were almost dead with cold. Ah, one small match might do some good, if she only dared take one from the packet, strike it on the wall, and warm her fingers. She drew one out — scratch! — and it spluttered and burned with a warm, bright flame. As she held her hands over it, it seemed to her that she was sitting before a great iron stove, its fire glowing beautifully. But as she stretched out her feet to warm them too, the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she was left with the burnt end of a match in her hand.
She struck another. Where its light fell on the wall, the wall became clear as gauze, and she could see into a room where a table stood, spread with a snow-white cloth and fine china. On it a roast goose steamed, and — most wonderful of all — it stepped down from the dish and waddled across the floor towards her. Then the match went out, and there was only the thick, cold wall.
She lit another, and now she sat beneath a magnificent Christmas tree, taller and more beautifully decked than any she had seen through a rich merchant's window. Thousands of candles burned on its green branches, and bright pictures looked down at her. She reached up her hands — and the match went out. The lights of the tree rose higher and higher, until she saw that they were the shining stars. One of them fell, drawing a long line of fire across the sky. "Now someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had ever been kind to her, had told her that when a star falls, a soul is going up to God.
1. What does she see in each of the first three flames?
2. What had her grandmother told her about a falling star?
1. In the first, a warm iron stove; in the second, a table set with a feast and a roast goose that walks towards her; in the third, a glorious Christmas tree whose candles rise into the stars.
2. That when a star falls, a soul is going up to God.
She struck yet another match against the wall, and in its glow stood her old grandmother, gentle and shining, more loving than ever. "Grandmother!" cried the little girl. "Oh, take me with you! I know you will go away when the match goes out — you will vanish like the warm stove, and the goose, and the beautiful tree." And quickly she struck all the rest of the matches in the packet, for she wanted to keep her grandmother there. They blazed up so brightly that it was lighter than day, and the grandmother had never looked so tall, so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and together they flew upward in brightness and joy, far above the earth, to a place where there was no cold, no hunger and no fear — for they were with God.
In the cold of the early morning, in the corner between the two houses, the little girl was found, her cheeks still rosy and a smile upon her lips. The old year had ended, and she sat there quite still, with the burnt-out matches in her lap. "She wanted to warm herself," people said, and shook their heads. No one could imagine the beautiful things she had seen, nor in what glory she had gone with her grandmother into the joy of the new year.
1. Why does the girl light all her remaining matches at once?
2. How does Andersen tell us, gently, what has happened by morning — and what do the passers-by fail to understand?
1. She sees her beloved grandmother in the flame and lights all the matches to keep her from vanishing, begging to be taken with her.
2. By morning she is found still and at peace, a smile on her face, the burnt matches in her lap — Andersen suggests her grandmother has carried her gently away from the cold. The passers-by see only a poor child who "wanted to warm herself"; they cannot imagine the beauty and joy she found.
This whole story lives in the gap between what is and what the girl longs for. English has a special set of structures for exactly that gap — for wishing, for imagining, for describing a world that is not real. The trick is that we step the verb one tense back into the past, even though we are talking about now.
Read the meaning in brackets and complete the sentence with the missing words.
1. Sitting in the freezing corner, she thought: "I wish I at home by a warm fire." (a wish about how things are now — use be)
2. "If only someone just one match from me today," she sighed. (regret about the whole day — use buy)
3. "I wish this bitter wind ," she whispered, longing for it to change. (a wish for something to change — use stop)
1. were (I wish I were — the unreal past of be)
2. had bought (a wish/regret about a finished day uses the past perfect: "if only someone had bought…")
3. would stop (I wish + would, for a change we want to happen)
Each sentence uses the right structure but the wrong form of the verb. Write the corrected verb.
1. I wish I (have) a warm coat like the children in the window.
2. If only the flame (not / go) out so quickly!
3. She wished her grandmother (be) still alive to hold her.
1. had (I wish + past simple: "I wish I had a warm coat")
2. didn't go (if only + past simple, negative: "if only the flame didn't go out")
3. were (the unreal past of be: "she wished her grandmother were still alive")
Fill each gap so the sentence expresses a wish or an unreal situation. Read it aloud once you're done.
The little girl looked at the warm windows and thought: "I wish I one of those children. If only the goose real, I would not be so hungry. I wish this night away and morning would come."
were (I wish I were…) · were (if only the goose were real) · would go (I wish + would, for a change we long for)
Notice the pattern: for a present state, step back to the past (were); for a change you want to happen, use would.
Hold on to these — you'll need them in the Speak tab, where the whole point is to put into words the things you long for but do not have.
Hans Christian Andersen published The Little Match Girl in 1845, and it has never left us. On the surface it is a very simple thing: a poor child, a cold night, a box of matches. But it endures because it holds two truths at once — a hard truth about poverty and a tender one about love and imagination — and it refuses to let go of either.
The ending is famously bittersweet. Andersen never says the hard word plainly; instead he gives us a smile, a rosy cheek, a grandmother's arms, and a flight "into the joy of the new year." Some readers find real consolation in it; others feel it as a gentle, angry protest — that a child should have to be carried away from the cold before anyone was kind to her.
This is the heart of the lesson — do all of it out loud. The timer is there to keep you going: fill the time with detail rather than rushing to the end.
Tell the story of The Little Match Girl in your own words, as if to someone who has never heard it. Move through the arc: the freezing New Year's Eve and the barefoot child → the day with no sale and the fear of going home → the matches and the visions, one by one → the grandmother in the last flame → the quiet, peaceful morning.
As you retell it, work in the language of longing — use I wish, if only and I wish … would to voice what the girl wanted — and bring in at least five key words (bitter, barefoot, match, strike, glow, shiver, feast, vision, ragged, tenderness).
The girl's imagination gives her warmth and joy the real world will not. Is imagining what we do not have a healthy comfort, or a way of avoiding a problem we should be trying to change? Build an argument, drawing on examples — art, daydreams, hope in hard times — and decide where you stand.
The passers-by walk by a child in need and notice nothing. Talk about how a community can fail to see the people struggling in front of it — and what makes the difference between walking past and stopping.
Prefer not to speak about real hardship? Pick one of these instead and run with it: