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I call this collection of papers 'Streaks of Life' because although most of them are autobiographical there is no attempt at a connected story. Pealing with modern times, continuity is impossible unless you are prepared either to hurt feelings, or to dip your pen in purest solution of rose-coloured amiability. And without, wishing to incur the imputation of treachery, I can imagine nothing more tiresome than always to speak of people as if they were listening at the door.<br><br>I should like to say a word about one or two articles of a different class that appear in this volume - the review of 'Mount Music,' for instance, which is included because I think no modern book gives such a faithful picture of Ireland. True, it is the Ireland of yesterday - of the very end, that is, of last century - but what a masterly analysis of the soil in which Sinn Fein has struck root I As our two islands are irrevocably bound together, the more we know of the other island the better, particularly since we need not expect to be studied and understood ourselves.