The Sun.
London, England, 1859-02-01 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

Passages from My Autobiography. By Sydney
Lady Morgan. Bentley.
This work is well calculated to attract the at-
tention of the public. The name of the authoress
is so well known in the literary world, and the
striking ability displayed in her works has been
so universally recognised that her present produc-
tion cannot fail to be appreciated. The gifted
writer has placed on her title-page this motto,
" Lest auld acquaintance be forgot," and a surer
way of perpetuating their fame and honouring their
memory could hardly be found,than in recording their
existence in the sparkling sketches that distin-
guish this brilliant work. When it is considered
that a period of forty years has elapsed since the
passages here presented to our notice were written
it will naturally occur to the mind that the chances
and changes of life will have effected manifold and
startling alterations. It is not likely that many of
those shining ornaments of society, or meteor stars
of fame whose grace and whose genius live again in
these chronicles are now extant to smile at
the mention of their past days, or sigh
over the memories they recall. No better
idea can be conveyed of the purport of this book
than is afforded by the perusal of this extract from
the preface:—

They were not written for the special purpose of any
work, but were mere transcripts of circumstances incidental
to that journey, which was delayed in its progress by all
that could interest the feelings or gratify the mind. I EA-
gered in this "path of dalliance" this "delicate plain of
ease" (as dear old Bunyan calls ft), Rith the same careless
enjoyment as " Little Red Riding Hood" must have had on
her way to her granddame's hut, pausing only to pick a flower
here or 'a pebble there, insensible to the proximity of the grim
wolf who was waiting to devour her. I, like Little Red
Riding Hood, loitered to pick up a flower or secure a pebble
that lay in my way, whilst the proximity of the grim wolf,
Time, which sooner or later devours all things, was un-
heeded. But the flower gathered still retains its fragrance
for me, and the pebble, like the scaraba3us found among the
antique rubbish of Egyptian tombs, bears the divine im-
press of genius.
During what was then deemed a perilous journey to Italy,
I followed up my old habit of occasional diary; and one still
older and dearer, a const-nt correspondence with my dear
and only sister. These homestead letters—these rapidly-
scrawled diaries, written "a saute et a ganzbade," form, I
believe, the materiel portion of this volume. The more
spirituel and interesting part will be found in the letters of
some of the most eminent men and women of the times
they illustrated by their genius, their worth, their culth-a-
tion of letters, and their love of liberty.

Those who would recall the bright scenes of r_
brilliant past, and learn how many who have since
become world-wide celebrities appeared in their
own generation to their contemporaries, cannot eo
better than snatch " The glimpse of the days that
are o'er," which this work presents. Its chief merit
consists in its facts being recorded in a style that
is made charming by the glowing fancy of the
writer.