This is the tale of the phantom light
That fills the mariner’s heart, at night,
With dread as it gleams o’er his path on the bay,
Now by the shore, then far away,
Fierce as the flame in sunset skies,
Cold as the winter moon that lies
On the Baie des Chaleurs.
—Arthur Wentworth Eaton.
THE BEATITUDES
Blessed are the poor in spirit:
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they that mourn:
For they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek:
For they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness:
For they shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful:
For they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart:
For they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers:
For they shall be called the children of God.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake:
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
—From the Sermon on the Mount.
MAGGIE TULLIVER AND THE GYPSIES
The resolution that gathered in Maggie’s mind was not so simple as that of going home. No! she would run away and go to the gypsies, and Tom should never see her any more. That was by no means a new idea to Maggie. The gypsies, she considered, would gladly receive her, and pay her much respect on account of her superior knowledge. She had once mentioned her views on this point to her brother Tom and had suggested that he should stain his face brown, and they should run away together. But Tom had rejected the scheme with contempt, observing that gypsies were thieves, and that they hardly got anything to eat, and had nothing to drive but a donkey.
George Eliot
To-day, however, Maggie thought her misery had reached a pitch at which gypsydom was her only refuge, and she rose from her seat on the roots of the tree with the sense that this was a great crisis in her life. She would run straight away till she came to Dunlow Common, where there would certainly be gypsies; and cruel Tom, and the rest of her relations who found fault with her, should never see her any more. She thought of her father, as she ran along, but determined that she would secretly send him a letter by a small gypsy, who would run away without telling where she was, and just let him know that she was well and happy and always loved him very much.
It seemed to Maggie that she had been running a very great distance indeed, and it was really surprising that the Common did not come within sight. At last, however, the green fields came to an end, and she found herself looking through the bars of a gate into a lane with a wide margin of grass on each side of it. She crept through the bars and walked on with a new spirit. It was not, however, without a leaping of the heart that she caught sight of a small pair of bare legs sticking up, feet uppermost, by the side of a hillock. It was a boy asleep, and she trotted along faster and more lightly, lest she should wake him. It did not occur to her that he was one of her friends, the gypsies, who probably would have very kindly manners. But the fact was so, for at the next bend in the lane she really saw the little black tent with the blue smoke rising before it, which was to be her refuge. She even saw a tall female figure by the column of smoke, doubtless the gypsy mother, who provided the tea and other groceries.