Deceased
Sister' still continues, and we do not intend to let you disappoint
that great body of readers who would be so eager to see another number
containing one of your stories."

I sent this manuscript to four other periodicals, and from each of them
it was returned with remarks to the effect that, although it was not a
bad story in itself, it was not what they would expect from the author
of "His Wife's Deceased Sister."

The editor of a Western magazine wrote to me for a story to be
published in a special number which he would issue for the holidays. I
wrote him one of the character and length he desired, and sent it to
him. By return mail it came back to me.

"I had hoped," the editor wrote, "when I asked for a story from your
pen, to receive something like `His Wife's Deceased Sister,' and I must
own that I am very much disappointed."

I was so filled with anger when I read this note that I openly
objurgated "His Wife's Deceased Sister." "You must excuse me," I said
to my astonished wife, "for expressing myself thus in your presence,
but that confounded story will be the ruin of me yet. Until it is
forgotten nobody will ever take anything I write."

"And you cannot expect it ever to be forgotten," said Hypatia, with
tears in her eyes.

It is needless for me to detail my literary efforts in the course of
the next few months. The ideas of the editors with whom my principal
business had been done, in regard to my literary ability, had been so
raised by my unfortunate story of "His Wife's Deceased Sister" that I
found it was of no use to send them anything of lesser merit. And as
to the other journals which I tried, they evidently considered it an
insult for me to send them matter inferior to that by which my
reputation had lately risen. The fact was that my successful story had
ruined me. My income was at an end, and want actually stared me in the
face; and I must admit that I did not like the expression of its
countenance. It was of no use for me to try to write another story
like "His Wife's Deceased Sister." I could not get married every time
I began a new manuscript, and it was the exaltation of mind caused by
my wedded felicity which produced that story.

"It's perfectly dreadful!" said my wife. "If I had had a sister, and
she had died, I would have thought it was my fault."

"It could not be your fault," I answered, "and I do not think it was
mine. I had no intention of deceiving an