s;
certainly to the extent of making myself appear more practical, or
more concentrated upon material progress, than I really was.

'Oh, I don't know about that,' said Mr. Smith as we boarded the
steamer. 'Business isn't the only thing in life, and there are plenty
other things worth thinking about.' Yes, odd as it seems, it was I who
was being reminded that there were other things worth thinking of
besides business; I ... 'No, but it would be better for 'em to do a
lot more thinking about all kinds of things. Thinking is better than
running after little chits of girls who ought to be smacked and put to
bed.'

Two refulgent youths had just passed us, in the wake of damsels whose
favour they apparently sought to win as favour is perhaps won in
poultry-yards--by cackling.

'I've had to do a powerful lot of talking in my time,' continued Mr.
Smith; 'and now I like to see any one, and especially any young
fellow, understand that it's not necessary to talk for talking's sake,
and that when you've nothing particular to say, it's better to be
quiet and think, than--than just to blither, as so many do.'

I endeavoured to look as much as possible like a deep thinker as I
acquiesced, and made mental note of the fact that I had evidently been
rather neglecting my companion.

'Mind you,' he added, 'it isn't only in office hours and at his work
that a man makes for success in business. Not a bit of it. It's when
he's thinking things out away from the office. Why, some of the best
business I ever brought off I've really done in bed--the planning out
of it, you know.'

I nodded the understanding sympathy of a wily and experienced hand at
business. I wonder if the average youth is equally adaptive! Probably
not, for I suppose it means I was a good deal of a humbug. All I knew
of business, so far, was what Sussex Street had shown me; and if I had
been perfectly candid, I should have admitted that, so far from
striking me as interesting, it seemed to me absurdly, incredibly dull
and uninteresting; so much so as to have a guise of unreality to me.
But my letters interested me none the less.

The facts of the situation were unreal. I cared nothing about Canning
and Son's profits, or the prices of Mr. Gubbins's butter; nothing
whatever. But I derived considerable satisfaction from turning out a
letter the fluent suavity of which I thought would impress Mr.
Gubbins. Primarily, my satisfaction came from the impression the
letters ma