"Houses of Glass" is the title of an odd little volume, so unpretentious in its general appearance that it came near being overlooked. And that would have been a pity, because while one may honestly admit a difference of opinion regarding the importance of the subject-matter of this collection of stories and sketches, there can be no question about their vividness of portrayal and their mastery of technique. The author's name is Helen Mackay. The sub-title proclaims the contents to be "stories of Paris," the paper binding, the typography and, indeed, all the details of book-making [in the original publication] are essentially French. The stories themselves are equally unmistakable in their Gallic flavor. Parisian monde and demi-monde move with uncompromising frankness through its pages. There are several stories that would lend themselves admirably to a brief retelling-notably number three laconically called "Of Sightseeing," and number four, named with similar brevity, "Of a Lesson." They are worth noting down provided you care for the French school of story-writing and are glad to see something of the kind occasionally done with real ability in English. But there are so many English readers who do not care even for the finished art of the French short story that it seems better, instead of analyzing any of these very truthful and sincere and incisive stories, to condense one of Helen Mackay's shorter sketches or verbal etchings-indeed, one hardly knows how to designate them; the author herself has found no better title for the group than "Thirteen Little Things." The first of these "Thirteen Little Things" deals with a certain old gargoyle high up on the roof of Notre Dame which a little old woman living in the church's shadow christened The Thinker.