After a Shadow

by T.S. Arthur

　　

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"Arty! Arty!" called Mrs. Mayflower, from the window, one brightJune morning. "Arty, darling! What is the child after? Just look athim, Mr. Mayflower!"I leaned from the window, in pleasant excitement, to see what newand wonderful performance had been attempted by my little prodigy--myfirst born--my year old bud of beauty, the folded leaves in whosebosom were just beginning to loosen themselves, and send out uponthe air sweet intimations of an abounding fragrance. He had escapedfrom his nurse, and was running off in the clear sunshine, the slantrays of which threw a long shadow before him."Arty, darling!" His mother's voice flew along and past his ear,kissing it in gentle remonstrance as it went by. But baby was ineager pursuit of something, and the call, if heard, was unheeded.His eyes were opening world-ward, and every newphenomenon--commonplace and unheeded by us--that addressed itself tohis senses, became a wonder and a delight. Some new object wasdrawing him away from the loving heart and protecting arm."Run after him, Mr. Mayflower!" said my wife, with a touch ofanxiety in her voice. "He might fall and hurt himself."I did not require a second intimation as to my duty in the case.Only a moment or two elapsed before I was on the pavement, andmaking rapid approaches towards my truant boy."What is it, darling? What is Arty running after?" I said, as I laidmy hand on his arm, and checked his eager speed. He struggled amoment, and then stood still, stooping forward for something on theground."O, papa see!" There was a disappointed and puzzled look in his faceas he lifted his eyes to mine. He failed to secure the object of hispursuit."What is it, sweet?" My eyes followed his as they turned upon theground.He stooped again, and caught at something; and again looked up in aperplexed, half-wondering way."Why, Arty!" I exclaimed, catching him up in my arms. "It's onlyyour shadow! Foolish child!" And I ran back to Mrs. Mayflower, withmy baby-boy held close against my heart."After a shadow!" said I, shaking my head, a little soberly, as Iresigned Arty to his mother. "So life begins--and so it ends! PoorArty!"Mrs. Mayflower laughed out right merrily."After a shadow! Why, darling!" And she kissed and hugged him inoverflowing tenderness."So life begins--so it ends," I repeated to myself, as I left thehouse, and walked towards my store. "Always in pursuit of shadows!We lose to-day's substantial good for shadowy phantoms that keep oureyes ever in advance, and our feet ever hurrying forward. Nopause--no ease--no full enjoyment of now. O, deluded heart!--everbartering away substance for shadow!"I grow philosophic sometimes. Thought will, now and then, take up apassing incident, and extract the moral. But how little the wiserare we for moralizing! we look into the mirror of truth, and seeourselves--then turn away, and forget what manner of men we are.Better for us if it were not so; if we remembered the image thatheld our vision.The shadow lesson was forgotten by the time I reached my store, andthought entered into business with its usual ardor. I buried myself,amid letters, invoices, accounts, samples, schemes for gain, andcalculations of profit. The regular, orderly progression of a fairand well-established business was too slow for my outreachingdesires. I must drive onward at a higher speed, and reach the goalof wealth by a quicker way. So my daily routine was disturbed byimpatient aspirations. Instead of entering, in a calmself-possession of every faculty, into the day's appropriate work,and finding, in its right performance, the tranquil state that evercomes as the reward of right-doing in the right place, I spent thelarger part of this day in the perpetration of a plan for increasingmy gains beyond, anything heretofore achieved."Mr. Mayflower," said one of the clerks, coming back to where I satat my private desk, busy over my plan, "we have a new man in fromthe West; a Mr. B----, from Alton. He wants to make a bill of athousand dollars. Do you know anything about him?"Now, even this interruption annoyed me. What was a new customer anda bill of a thousand dollars to me just at that moment of time? Isaw tens of thousands in prospective."Mr. B----, of Alton?" said I, affecting an effort of memory. "Does helook like a fair man?""I don't recall him. Mr. B----? Hum-m-m. He impresses you favorably,Edward?""Yes, sir; but it may be prudent to send and get a report.""I'll see to that, Edward," said I. "Sell him what he wants. Ifeverything is not on the square, I'll give you the word in time.It's all right, I've no doubt.""He's made a bill at Kline & Co.'s, and wants his goods sent thereto be packed," said my clerk."Ah, indeed! Let him have what he wants, Edward. If Kline & Co. sellhim, we needn't hesitate."And turning to my desk, my plans, and my calculations, I forgot allabout Mr. B----, and the trifling bill of a thousand dollars that heproposed buying. How clear the way looked ahead! As thought createdthe means of successful adventure, and I saw myself moving forwardand grasping results, the whole circle of life took a quickermotion, and my mind rose into a pleasant enthusiasm. Then I grewimpatient for the initiatory steps that were to come, and felt as ifthe to-morrow, in which they must be taken, would never appear. Aday seemed like a week or a month.Six o'clock found me in not a very satisfactory state of mind. Theardor of my calculations had commenced abating. Certain elements,not seen and considered in the outset, were beginning to assumeshape and consequence, and to modify, in many essential particulars,the grand result towards which I had been looking with so muchpleasure. Shadowy and indistinct became the landscape, which seemeda little while before so fair and inviting. A cloud settled downupon it here, and a cloud there, breaking up its unity, anddestroying much of its fair proportion. I was no longer mounting up,and moving forwards on the light wing of a castle-buildingimagination, but down upon the hard, rough ground, coming back intothe consciousness that all progression, to be sure, must be slow andtoilsome.I had the afternoon paper in my hands, and was running my eyes upand down the columns, not reading, but, in a half-absent way, tryingto find something of sufficient interest to claim attention, when,among the money and business items, I came upon a paragraph thatsent the declining thermometer of my feelings away down towards thechill of zero. It touched, in the most vital part, my scheme ofgain; and the shrinking bubble burst."Have the goods sold to that new customer from Alton beendelivered?" I asked, as the real interest of my wasted day loomed upinto sudden importance."Yes, sir," was answered by one of my clerks; "they were sent toKline & Co.'s immediately. Mr. B----said they were packing up hisgoods, which were to be shipped to-day.""He's a safe man, I should think. Kline & Co. sell him." My voicebetrayed the doubt that came stealing over me like a chilly air."They sell him only for cash," said my clerk. "I saw one of theiryoung men this afternoon, and asked after Mr. B----'s standing. Hedidn't know anything about him; said B----was a new man, who bought amoderate cash bill, but was sending in large quantities of goods tobe packed--five or six times beyond the amount of his purchases withthem.""Is that so!" I exclaimed, rising to my feet, all awake now to thereal things which I had permitted a shadow to obscure."Just what he told me," answered my clerk."It has a bad look," said I. "How large a bill did he make with us?"The sales book was referred to. "Seventeen hundred dollars," repliedthe clerk."What! I thought he was to buy only to the amount of a thousanddollars?" I returned, in surprise and dismay."You seemed so easy about him, sir," replied the clerk, "that Iencouraged him to buy; and the bill ran up more heavily than I wasaware 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'llrequest them to delay long enough in the morning to give us time tosift the matter. If B----'s after a swindling game, we'll take a shortcourse, and save our goods.""It's too late," answered my clerk. "B----called a little after oneo'clock, and gave notes for the amount of his bill. He was to leavein the five o'clock line for Boston."I turned my face a little aside, so that Edward might not see allthe anxiety that was pictured there."You look very sober, Mr. Mayflower," said my good wife, gazing atme with eyes a little shaded by concern, as I sat with Arty's headleaning against my bosom that evening; "as sober as baby looked thismorning, after his fruitless shadow chase.""And for the same reason," said I, endeavoring to speak calmly andfirmly."Why, Mr. Mayflower!" Her face betrayed a rising anxiety. My assumedcalmness and firmness did not wholly disguise the troubled feelingsthat lay, oppressively, about my heart."For the same reason," I repeated, steadying my voice, and trying tospeak bravely. "I have been chasing a shadow all day; a mere phantomscheme of profit; and at night-fall I not only lose my shadow, butfind my feet far off from the right path, and bemired. I called Artya foolish child this morning. I laughed at his mistake. But, insteadof accepting the lesson it should have conveyed, I went forth andwearied myself with shadow-hunting all day."Mrs. Mayflower sighed gently. Her soft eyes drooped away from myface, and rested for some moments on the floor."I am afraid we are all, more or less, in pursuit of shadows," shesaid,--"of the unreal things, projected by thought on the canvas of atoo creative imagination. It is so with me; and I sigh, daily, oversome disappointment. Alas! if this were all. Too often both theshadow-good and the real-good of to-day are lost. When night fallsour phantom good is dispersed, and we sigh for the real good wemight 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 clearerperception; "is it not the shadow after which we are all chasing,with such a blind and headlong speed?""Happiness is no shadow. It is a real thing," said Mrs. Mayflower."It does not project itself in advance of us; but exists in theactual and the now, if it exists at all. We cannot catch it bypursuit; that is only a cheating counterfeit, in guilt and tinsel,which dazzles our eyes in the ever receding future. No; happiness isa state of life; and it comes only to those who do each day's workpeaceful self-forgetfulness, and a calm trust in the Giver of allgood for the blessing that lies stored for each one prepared toreceive it in every hour of the coming time.""Who so does each day's work in a peaceful self-forgetfulness andpatient trust in God?" I said, turning my eyes away from the nowtranquil face of Mrs. Mayflower."Few, if any, I fear," she answered; "and few, if any, are happy.The common duties and common things of our to-days look so plain andhomely in their ungilded actualities, that we turn our thought andinterest away from them, and create ideal forms of use and beauty,into which we can never enter with conscious life. We are alwayslosing the happiness of our to-days; and our to-morrows never come."I sighed my response, and sat for a long time silent. When the teabell interrupted me from my reverie, Arty lay fast asleep on mybosom. As I kissed him on his way to his mother's arms, I said,--"Dear baby! may it be your first and last pursuit of a shadow.""No--no! Not yet, my sweet one!" answered Mrs. Mayflower, hugging himto her heart. "Not yet. We cannot spare you from our world ofshadows."

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