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the light on the hills

by Hound Baskerville

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Class VIII A

THE LIGHT ON THE HILLS
LUCY CLIFFORD
Comic Panel 1
2 August 1846- 21 April 1929
English novelist, playwright and journalist.

Major works are :- Mrs Keith's Crime, Aunt Anne, Love Letters of a Worldly Woman.
Comic Panel 3
LUCY CLIFFORD
Comic Panel 2
Comic Panel 4
The Light on the Hills
1 ‘I want to work at my picture,’ he said,
and went into the field. The little sister
went too, and stood by him watching
while he painted.
‘The trees are not quite straight,’ she
said, ‘and oh, dear brother, the sky
is not blue enough.’
‘It will all come right soon,’ he
answered. 'Will it be of any good?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, wondering that he
should even ask. ‘It will make people
happy to look at it. They will feel as if
they were in the field.’
Comic Panel 1
2 ‘If I do it badly, will it make them
unhappy?’
‘If you do your work with dedication and
honesty people will know how hard you
have tried,’ she answered, ‘and for this
reason they will like your work. Look up,’
she said suddenly, ‘look up at the light
upon the hills,’ and they stood together
looking at all he was trying to paint, at the
trees and the field, at the deep shadows
and the hills beyond, and the light that
rested upon them. The sunlight was
glimmering. The leaves were rustling. They
could hear a stream rippling somewhere.
1 ‘I want to work at my picture,’ he said,
and went into the field. The little sister
went too, and stood by him watching
while he painted.
‘The trees are not quite straight,’ she
said, ‘and oh, dear brother, the sky
is not blue enough.’
‘It will all come right soon,’ he
answered. 'Will it be of any good?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, wondering that he
should even ask. ‘It will make people
happy to look at it. They will feel as if
they were in the field.’
Comic Panel 1
2 ‘If I do it badly, will it make them
unhappy?’
‘If you do your work with dedication and
honesty people will know how hard you
have tried,’ she answered, ‘and for this
reason they will like your work. Look up,’
she said suddenly, ‘look up at the light
upon the hills,’ and they stood together
looking at all he was trying to paint, at the
trees and the field, at the deep shadows
and the hills beyond, and the light that
rested upon them. The sunlight was
glimmering. The leaves were rustling. They
could hear a stream rippling somewhere.
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