_Shadowed_


I sometimes feel a little uneasy about that imagined self of
mine--the Me of my daydreams--who leads a melodramatic life of
his own, quite unrelated to my real existence. So one day I
shadowed him down the street. He loitered along for a while, and
then stood at a shop-window and dressed himself out in a gaudy
tie and yellow waistcoat. Then he bought a great sponge and two
stuffed birds and took them to lodgings, where he led for a
while a shady existence. Next he moved to a big house in
Mayfair, and gave grand dinner-parties, with splendid service
and costly wines. His amorous adventures in this region I pass
over. He soon sold his house and horses, gave up his motors,
dismissed his retinue of servants, and went--saving two young
ladies from being run over on the way--to live a life of heroic
self-sacrifice among the poor.

I was beginning to feel encouraged about him, when in passing a
fishmonger's, he pointed at a great salmon and said, "I caught
that fish."




_The Incredible_