The Sun.
London, England, 1854-02-16 00:00:00

relations, during the months he passed in England,
in their endeavours and contrivances to re-possess
that fortune. There was hardly a crime that they
did not commit—there was scarcely a subterfuge to
which they did not descend •; and poverty in its
darkest hours, in its most suffering scenes, never
:more overshadowed man's life,. or inflicted sharper
stings than-. did -this mania -for the wealth of an-
other. It is a question on which side there was
the greatest labour-: on that of the possessor, how
to part with it ;or on that-of the desiderants, how
to get hold of it ? Both sides were overcome by
the unequal struggle. E owever, friendship, family
pride, good name, and life itself, sinks under
it. It is a relief to the mind, wearied and
harassed by the contemplation of such strife,
to gaze on the last scene brought before us.
A feeling of calm pervades us as we behold
the victim of wealth's troubles wrapped. in the rest
that knows no waking to the search for gold.
Again it is refreshing to find the treasure in the
hold of one who is its master, not its slave; one who,
in the first hour of his unexpected acquisition of
almost fabulous wealth for him, thinks of the donor
more than of the donation ; and, truly, if Reginald
Lyle had studied for ever, he could not have con-
veyed a more solemn lesson to his nephew, whom
we leave kneeling by the side of him- who taught
him from experience how to value and to rate his
legacy. In the last hour of his life he had shown
riches were a torment, and the first touch of death
had acquainted his heir how and when they would
vanish, in their use,. or their abuse.

Lives of the Queens of England. By Agnes Strick-

land. Burst-aud Blackett.
A fourth edition of this celebrated historical work
is now appearing in monthly volumes. It will be
completed in eight volumes, of which the two first
are now published. They extend from the Queen
of William the Conqueror to the unfortunate Anne
Boleyn, containing the biographies of 22 queens.
The memoirs are too well known and generally ap-
preciated to require comment; it is sufficient to say
that the edition is in every respect excellent, being
of a convenient size, with a handsome binding and
good type, and embellished with portraits of all
the queens.

Six Months in Italy. By George Stillman Hillard.
2 vols. -Murray.
In the preface to this work, the author remarks
that he hopes that those who have visited the same
scenes as he here represents will be pleased to have
them recalled to memory, and that those who look
to Italy as a land of promise will find benefit from
the perusal of his travels. There is yet another
class of people, however, of whom no mention is
made in the preface,—those who never have and
never will travel. To such, above all others, the
publication of a work like the one now before us is
a source of great satisfaction. Although at home
always, they can fancy they have been abroad
when they attentively study the transcrip-
tion of the sentiments experienced by those
who have travelled far and wide. In making
some remarks on a work on Italy, Mr. Disraeli
observed "it was a subject beautiful as its
climate and inexhaustible as its soil." It appears
to be the same with the records of art in Italy as
with the glories of nature. There, is always some-
thing very attractive to bo said or written of her
wonders. At the end of the work several chapters
are devoted to a consideration of the distinguished
writers on Italy. Petrarch, Shakspere Milton,
Goethe, Chateaubriand, Shelley, Byron, le., and
many others not so remarkable, are here made
mention of. It is said in treating of Shakspere,
that the question -whether he ever went to Italy or
not is not known' for certain. "It is certainly
possible, perhaps probable, but it remains to be
proved. It is pleasant to think of . Shakspere's
swimming in a gondola, and to believe that the
beautiful pictures in the Merchant of Venice,'
and Othello,' were recollections and not imagi-
nations, that Belmont was a palazza, whose blazing
windows he himself had seen, and that when he
wrote Lorenzo's lovely description of a summer's
night, his thoughts went back to the brighter
moons and larger stars of an Italian heaven, and
to the myrtle walls and flowery banks of an Italian
garden."