passed. Lady Hastings poured forth all her grief and
indignation at Emily's engagement to Mr. Marlow, and Mrs. Hazleton did
nothing to diminish either. She agreed that it was a very unequal match,
that Emily with her beauty and talents, and even with her mother's
fortune alone, might well marry into the highest family of the land.
Nay, she said, could the match be broken off, she might still take her
rank among the peeresses. She did not advise, indeed, actual resistance
on the part of her friend; she feared Lady Hastings' discretion; but she
insinuated that a mother and a wife by unwavering and constant
opposition, often obtained her own way, even in very difficult
circumstances.

From that hour Mrs. Hazleton was Lady Hastings' best friend.

NATURAL REVELATION.

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE

BY ALFRED B. STREET.

Does not the heart alone a God proclaim!
Blot revelation from the mind of man!
Yea, let him not e'en Nature's features scan;
There is within him a low voice, the same
Throughout the varied scenes of being's span,
That whispers, God. And doth not conscience speak
Though sin its wildest force upon it wreak!
Born with us--never dying--ever preaching
Of right and wrong, with reference aye to Him--
And doth not Hope, on toward the future reaching--
The aspirations struggling from the Dim
Up toward the Bright--a ceaseless unrepose
Of something unattained--a ceaseless teaching
Of unfulfilled desire--the eternal truth disclose!

HEART-WHISPERS.

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE

BY MARY E. HEWITT.

What if he loved me!--How the unwhispered thought
Comes o'er me, with a thrill of ecstacy!
And yet, when constant eve his step hath brought,
I timid shrink as he approaches me.
Last night, when greeting words were on his lips,
My ears grew deaf between my faint replies;
And when he pressed my trembling finger tips,
I felt me turn to marble 'neath his eyes.
What if he loved me! If 'twere mine to share
His thought! to be of his proud being part!
Hush! lest the tell-tale wind should idly bear
To him this wild, wild beating of my heart
For should he guess--who in my soul hath name--
That I, unsought, love him, ah! I should die of shame.

THE SNOWDROP IN THE SNOW.

BY SYDNEY YENDYS.

O full