"What! I thought he was to buy only to the amount of a thousand dollars?" I returned, in surprise and dismay. "You seemed so easy about him, sir," replied the clerk, "that I encouraged him to buy; and the bill ran up more heavily than I was aware until the footing gave exact figures." I drew out my watch. It was close on to half past six. "I think, Edward," said I, "that you'd better step round to Kline & Co.'s, and ask if they've shipped B----'s goods yet. If not, we'll request them to delay long enough in the morning to give us time to sift the matter. If B----'s after a swindling game, we'll take a short course, and save our goods." "It's too late," answered my clerk. "B----called a little after one o'clock, and gave notes for the amount of his bill. He was to leave in the five o'clock line for Boston." I turned my face a little aside, so that Edward might not see all the anxiety that was pictured there. "You look very sober, Mr. Mayflower," said my good wife, gazing at me with eyes a little shaded by concern, as I sat with Arty's head leaning against my bosom that evening; "as sober as baby looked this morning, after his fruitless shadow chase." "And for the same reason," said I, endeavoring to speak calmly and firmly. "Why, Mr. Mayflower!" Her face betrayed a rising anxiety. My assumed calmness and firmness did not wholly disguise the troubled feelings that lay, oppressively, about my heart. "For the same reason," I repeated, steadying my voice, and trying to speak bravely. "I have been chasing a shadow all day; a mere phantom scheme of profit; and at night-fall I not only lose my shadow, but find my feet far off from the right path, and bemired. I called Arty a foolish child this morning. I laughed at his mistake. But, instead of accepting the lesson it should have conveyed, I went forth and wearied myself with shadow-hunting all day." Mrs. Mayflower sighed gently. Her soft eyes drooped away from my face, and rested for some moments on the floor. "I am afraid we are all, more or less, in pursuit of shadows," she said,--"of the unreal things, projected by thought on the canvas of a too creative imagination. It is so with me; and I sigh, daily, over some disappointment. Alas! if this were all. Too often both the shadow-good and the real-good of to-day are lost. When night falls our phantom good is dispersed, and we sigh for the real good we might have enjoyed." "Shall we never grow wiser?" I asked. "We shall never grow happier unless we do," answered Mrs. Mayflower. "Happiness!" I returned, as thought began to rise into clearer perception; "is it not the shadow after which we are all chasing, with such a blind and headlong speed?"