On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth. And there was a splendid china set. The roast goose was hot. It was stuffed with apples and dried plums. Her mouth watered with hunger. She reached out for the goose. Her fingers almost touched it. Then, the match went out. Nothing was left but the thick, cold, damp wall. She lit another match. Now she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches. Pretty pictures hung on the walls. They looked as lovely as the ones she had seen in the shop windows. The little girl held out her hands towards them. Just then, the match went out. But the lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw them now as stars in the sky. One fell down and formed a long trail of fire. "Oh," said the little girl. "Someone has just died." Her old grandmother had told her the story. When a star falls, a soul goes up to Heaven. She wanted to see more, so she lit another match. In the bright light stood her grandmother. She was the only person who had loved the girl. Her face was kind and full of love. "Grandmother!" cried the little girl. "Please, take me with you!" But her grandmother started to fade as the match burned out. "No!" screamed the little girl. "Don't go!" And she rubbed all of her matches against the wall. She wanted to keep her grandmother near her. She had a smile on her face. She had a bundle of matches in her hand. They were burnt out. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. They looked at her body with pity. But no one had any idea of what she had seen. No one even dreamed of her joy. With her grandmother, she was finally happy. With her grandmother, she celebrated the New Year. Of suspicion: Suspicions amongst thoughts, are like bats amongst birds, they ever fly by twilight. Certainly they are to be repressed, or at least well guarded: for they cloud the mind; they leese friends; and they check with business, whereby business cannot go on currently and constantly. They dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolution and melancholy. They are defects, not in the heart, but in the brain; for they take place in the stoutest natures; as in the example of Henry the Seventh of England. There was not a more suspicious man, nor a more stout. And in such a composition they do small hurt. For commonly they are not admitted, but with examination, whether they be likely or no. But in fearful natures they gain ground too fast.