How To Speak With A British Accent with the help of The Little Match Girl

How to speak with a British accent: The Little Match Girl Audio story

 

The Little Match Girl

I think this is one of the most saddest of all the fairytales.  Take a listen to Part one of the audio recording below. If you would like to hear the rest of the story, and a collection of 9 other fairytales, they are available as part of the Ultimate RP British Accent Learning Resource.

Use these fairytales to help you develop and further understand:
– connected speech
– comprehension
– vocabulary

 

Transcript:

 The Little Match Girl
It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost
dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the
cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was
walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her
house she’d had slippers on, but what good had they been?
They were very big slippers, way too big for her, for they
belonged to her mother. The little girl had lost them running
across the road, where two carriages had rattled by terribly
fast. One slipper she’d not been able to find again, and a boy
had run off with the other, saying he could use it very well as
a cradle some day when he had children of his own. And so
the little girl walked on her naked feet, which were quite red
and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried several
packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand.
No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had
given her a cent.
Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of
misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair,
which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows
lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast
goose, for it was New Year’s eve. Yes, she thought of that!
In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected
farther out into the street than the other, she sat down and
drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and
colder, but did not dare to go home, for she had sold no
matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely
beat her. Besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing
over them but a roof through which the wind whistled even
though the biggest cracks had been stuffed with straw and
rags.
Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one
little match might warm her! If she could only take one from
the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She
drew one out. R-r-ratch! How it sputtered and burned! It made
a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her
hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to
the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove
with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully
the fire burned! How comfortable it was!
The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then
the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only
the remains of the burnt match in her hand.
She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly,
and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent
like a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On
the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a
shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously,
stuffed with apples and prunes. And what was still better, the
goose jumped down from the dish and waddled along the floor
with a knife and fork in its breast, right over to the little girl.
Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick,
cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting
under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger
and much more beautiful than the one she had seen last
Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant’s home.
Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and
colored pictures like those in the printshops looked down at
her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then
the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher.
She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell
down, forming a long line of fire.
“Now someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old
grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who
was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul
went up to God.
She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright
again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and
shining, kind and lovely.
“Grandmother!” cried the child. “Oh, take me with you! I know
you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will
vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the
beautiful big Christmas tree!”
And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she
wished to keep her grandmother with her. And the matches
burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight.
Grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. She took
the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness
and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was
neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear-they were with God.
But in the corner, leaning against the wall, 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 a little
pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the
matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.
“She wanted to warm herself,” the people said. No one
imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily
she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New
Year.
The End

Posted in British Accent Audio Clips