THE VICTORIA MAGAZINE. FEBRUARY, 1879. HURRYING ON. URRYING on in the midst of excitement, Even to ask where we're hurrying to; Hurrying on over blessings unheeded, Casting some joy, like the butterfly gone, We have been hurrying on from our cradles— We are still hurrying on as expectant What shall we get for our hurry at last? Graves are so thick that we cannot well miss them, What shall we have with our hurry when there ? W Hurrying on in the wake of the phantoms, Wealth of eternity planted in time; The soil for its seed growing barren as ashes, God works but slowly-but slowly, my brothers- Not for himself in the green fields of life. Let us sit down, and be calm and be thoughtful, Lifting our hearts to eternity's brink; Let us cease living alone for the present; Let us cease hurrying-what do you think? MY ONLY LOVE. BY EMILIA AYLMER BLAKE, Author of "A Life Race," "A Crown for Love," &c. He is no lover who loves not for ever.-Euripides. But this was taught me by the dove, To die, and know no second love. The swan that swims upon the lake, CHAPTER IX. THE DESIRE ACCOMPLISHED. heart. HAD kept the paper unblotted by any tear of mine. My honour I would hold safe even though my life were wrung from me in the bitter drops I wept, as hot blood from my That secure, let the rest go! I had won my hero to my feet. Not so; Need I tell how I watched and listened for the postman on his round, as if my very existence hung upon his approaching knock, that passed and died away four times every day, or worse, battered at the door beneath on some other's behalf, but brought nothing for me? Two days passed thus, till my strange absence of mind drew remark from the few around me, and then, late in the afternoon, unannounced |