Excerpt from Our Irish Theatre: A Chapter of Autobiography

Some day when I am not here to answer, you will maybe ask, What were they for, the writing, the journeys, and why did she have an enemy? So I will put down the story now, that you may know all about it bye and bye.

Fourteen or fifteen years ago I still wrote from time to time in a diary I used to keep till the sand in the hour-glass on my table began to run so fast that I had to lay by the book as well as embroidery, and archaeology, and drying lavender, and visits to the houses of friends.

I was in London in the beginning of 1898, and I find written, Yeats and Sir Alfred Lyall to tea, Yeats stayed on. He is very full of playwriting.

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