"Well, many people do the same thing," Richard said, rather unfeelingly.
"Yes, but this case was particularly sad," Penelope asserted. "The young man was all alone. He hadn't a relative in the world. He had fought his way up and had just completed his law studies, but had not, as yet, succeeded in obtaining any practice. He was in distress and Mr. Maxwell thinks, as I do, that he was so encouraged when his poem was accepted that he came to the city with the purpose of asking employment of the editor, but being greeted so coldly and roughly, I think he could not tell the object of his visit. On his return to Buffalo, as a last hope, he wrote some poetry which was colored with his own despondent feelings, and when they were all returned to him it was the last straw—he went out and shot himself."
"But what else could Mr. Maxwell have done, Penelope," Richard asked, in a business
