Parthenia, the heroine of the story, is drawn with great power and feeling. She comes before us at first with the classic charms of an Athenian beauty; she leaves us resplendent with the aureola of a Christian saint. The change is gradually and naturally wrought; a Christian maid-servant wins her love and reverence, and her proud and restless heart finds peace in the simple faith taught by the little slave, Areta. We cannot in this brief notice follow the incidents of the tale, which will be found full of interest. A remarkably graceful style and a harmonious arrangement of scenery and incident make the chapters flow on like a series of gliding pictures. The pleasure afforded by the beauty of the story will, perhaps, be enough for most readers; but those who read carefully will perceive that it furnishes matter for deep reflection to the student of history and of theology. _The Life of Michael Angelo Buonarotti, with Translations of many of his Poems and Letters_. Also _Memoirs of Savonarola, Raphael, and Victoria Colonna_. By JOHN S. HARFORD, Esq., D.C.L., F.R.S., etc., etc. 2 vols. 8vo. London. 1857. Autobiographies are not the only memoirs in which there is scope for the display of vanity. Some men flatter themselves by connecting their names on a title-page with the name of some great character of the past. Self-love quickens their admiration of their hero, and admiration for their hero gratifies their self-love. Mr. Harford belongs to this class of biographers. The title and the appearance of his volumes excite expectations which acquaintance with them disappoints. The book is not a mere harmless piece of literary presumption; it is a positive evil, as cumbering ground which might be better occupied, and as giving such authority as it may acquire to false views of Art and to numerous errors of fact. There was need of a good biography of Michel Angelo, and Mr. Harford has made a bad one. The defects of the book are both external and essential. Mr. Harford's mind is of the commonplace order, and incapable of a true appreciation either of the character or the works of such a man as Michel Angelo. He has no sympathetic insight into the depths of human nature. Nor has he the method and power of arrangement, such as may often be found in otherwise second-rate biographers, which might enable him to set forth the external facts of a life in such lucid and intelligible order as to exhibit the force of circumstances and position in moulding the character. His learning, of which there is a considerable display, appears on examination shallow and superficial, and his style of writing is often clumsy, and never elegant.