"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 A. 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.
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 "and for this reason they will like your work. Look she said suddenly, "look up at the light upon the hills' and they stood together 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
It is a beautiful world. The girl said. "It is a great honour to make things for it. "It is a beautiful world." The boy echoed sadly. "It is a sin to do anything which might represent the world badly or imperfectly. But will you always do things well?" asked the little sister.
"I get so tired, he said, "and long to leave off so much. What do you do when you want to do your best, your very, very best? he asked, suddenly.
I think if I want to do my very, very best then I'll do it for the people Idove, you very strong she answered. "It makes bear pain, if you think of them; you can and walk far, and do all kind of things, mand you do not get tired so soon He thought for a moment. Then I shall paint my picture for you, he said; T shall think of you all the time I am doing it. the hills that
Once more they looked at deep shadow seemed to rise up out of the into the light, and then together they went home. Soon afterwards a big tragedy struck their family. One night when the family was .sleeping, the little sister died in her sleep.
The mother explained to the brother, "Son, your little sister wandered into another world, and journeyed on so far that she lost the clue to carth, and could not be back. anymore The boy, who was grieving for his little sister, painted many pictures before he could gather the courage to see the same field that he saw with his sister once again. But after many years as he sat and worked, a strange power came to him.
This strong feeling was like an answer to the longing in his heart since his little sister died. This emotion seemed to answer a desire in his heart to put into the world something which should make the meanest, humblest citizen, a little happier or better.
At last, when he knew that his eye was true and his touch sure, he took up the picture he had promised to paint for the dear sister, and worked at it until he was finished. This is better than all he has done beforeh the audience said.at is surely beautiful, for it makes one happy to look at it a And yet my heart ached as I did it, th artist said, as he went back to the field. "I hought of her all the time I worked. It was the sorrow that gave me power.
It seemed as if a soft voice of his long dead sister that spoke only to his heart back. "not sorrow but love, and ansty perfect love has all the good qualities in its gift, and from it comes all other things all things except for happiness.
"How does one find happiness?' interrupted the boy. Finding happiness is a strange case, the answer seemed to be; "If you want to find it for one's own self theh one must seek sit for others. But happiness is so difficult to seize or to find.'
Perfect love helps one to live without happiness," his own heart answered to himself; And above all things it helps one to work and to wait." 'But if it gives one happiness too?' he asked eagerly. Ah, then it is called Heaven."
