other changed into a glass door, and there
she was. Tea was certainly a happy commodity, as it was neither greasy
nor sticky, grease and stickiness being two of the qualities which Miss
Matty could not endure. Moreover, as Miss Matty said, one good thing
about it was that men did not buy it, and it was of men particularly she
was afraid. They had such sharp, loud ways with them, and did up
accounts and counted their change so quickly.

Very little remains to be told. The approval of the Honourable Mrs.
Jamieson set the seal upon the successful career of Miss Matty as a
purveyor of tea. Thus did she escape even the shadow of "vulgarity."

One afternoon I was sitting in the shop parlour with Miss Matty, when we
saw a gentleman go slowly past the window and then stand opposite to the
door, as if looking out for the name which we had so carefully hidden.
His clothes had an out-of-the-way foreign cut, and it flashed across me
it was the Agra himself! He entered.

Miss Matty looked at him, and something of tender relaxation in his face
struck home to her heart. She said: "It is--oh, sir, can you be Peter?"
and trembled from head to foot. In a moment he had her in his arms,
sobbing the tearless cries of old age.

* * * * *

Mary Barton

"Mary Barton," although not Mrs. Gaskell's first attempt at
authorship, was her first literary success; and although her
later writings revealed a gain in skill, subtlety and humour,
none of them equalled "Mary Barton" in dramatic intensity and
fervent sincerity. This passionate tale of the sorrows of the
Manchester poor, given to the world anonymously in the year
1848, was greeted with a storm of mingled approval and
disapproval. It was praised by Carlyle and Landor, but some
critics attacked it fiercely as a slander on the Manchester
manufacturers, and there were admirers who complained that it
was too heartrending. The controversy has long since died
down, but the book holds a permanent place in literature as a
vivid revelation of a dark and painful phase of English life
in the middle of the last century.

_I.--Rich and Poor_

"Mary," said John Barton to his daughter, "what's come o'er thee and Jem
Wilson? You were great friends at one time."

"Oh, folk say he is going to be married to Molly Gibson," answered Mary,
as indifferently as she could.

"Thou'st played thy c