It could not have carried more regret with it if it had been a human life.

The next match simply flashed and died.
The wind puffed the third one out just as it was on the imminent verge of success.

We gathered together closer than ever, and developed a solicitude that was rapt and painful, as Mr.Ballou scratched our last hope on his leg.

It lit, burned blue and sickly, and then budded into a robust flame.

Shading it with his hands, the old gentleman bent gradually down and every heart went with him--everybody, too, for that matter--and blood and breath stood still.