An Encounter with an Interviewer.

Otago Witness, Issue 2668, 3 May 1905, Page 79

An Encounter with an Interviewer.

The nervous, dapper, "peart" young man took the chair I offered him, and said he was connected with the Daily Thunderstorm, and added : "Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you." "Come to what?" "Interview you." "Ah! I see. Yes— yes. Urn! Yes — yes."

I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and when I had been looking six or seven minutes I found I was obliged to refer to the young man. I said : "How do you spell it?" "Spell what?" "Interview." "Oh ! my goodness ! what do you want to spell it for?"

"I don't want to spell it; I want to see what it means "

"Well, this is astonishing, I must say. I can tell you what it means, if you — if you-: ". ...

""Oh, all- right ! That will answer, and much obliged to you, too." "I-n, in, - t-e-r, inter " "Then" you spell'it with an I?" "Why, certainly!" "Oh, that is what took me so long." "Why, my dear sir. what did you propose to" spell it with?" "Well, I— l— hardly know. _ I had the Unabridged, and I -was ciphering around in the back end, hoping I might tree her among the pictures. But it's a very old edition."

"Why, my friend, .they wouldn't have a picture of it in even the latest c My dear sir, I beg your pardon, I mean no harm in. the world, but you do not look as — as — intelligent as I had expected you would. No harm — I mean no harm at ail."

"Oh, don't ment'on it. It has often been said, and by people who would not flatter, a.nd who would have no inducement to flatter, that I am quite remarkable in that way. Yes — yes ; they always speak of it with rapture."

"I can easily imagine it But aboub this interview. You know it is the custom now to interview any man who has become notorious."

"Indeed. I had not heard of it before. It must be very interesting. What do you do it with?"

"Ah, well — well — well — this is disheartening. It ought to be done with a club in some cases ; but eustamarily it consists in the interviewer asking questions and the interviewed answering them. It is all the rage now. Will you let me ask you certain questions calculated to bring out the salient points of your public and private history?". "Oh, with pleasure — with pleasure." "Thanks. Are you ready to begin?" "Ready." Q. : How old are you ? A. : .Nineteen, in June. Q. : Indeed ! I 'would have taken you to bs thirty-five or six. Where were you born? A. : In Missouri. Q. : When did you begin to write? A. : In 1836. Q. : Why, how could that be, if you are only nineteen now ? A. : I don't know. It does seem curious somehow. Q. : It does indeed. Whom do you consider the most remarkable man you ever met? A. : Aaron Burr. Q. : But you never could have mot Aaron Burr if you are only nineteen years A. : Now, it you know more about me than. I do, what do you ask me for?

Q. : Well, it was only a suggestion : nothing more. How did you happen to meet Burr?

A. : Well, I happened to be at his funeral one day, and he asked me to make less noisa, and

Q. : But ... if you we^e at his funeral, Lie must have been dead ; and if he- was dead, how could he care whether you mada a noise or not?

A. : I don't know. Ho was always a particular kind of man that way. Q. : Still, I don't understand it at all. You say he spoke io you, and that lie was dead. A. : I didn't say he wafg dead. Q. : But wasn't he dead ? A. : Well, some said ho was, some said he wasn't. Q. : What did you think? A. : Oh, it was none of my business ! It wasn't any of my funeral. Q. : Did you ■ Howie"\er, we can never get this matter straight. Let me ask about something else. What vas the date of your birth?

A. : Monday, October 31, 1693. Q. : What?' Impossible! That would make you a hundred and eighty 3 care oldHow do you account for that A. : I don't account for it at all.

Q. : But yoa said at first you were only 19, and now you make yourself out to be one hundred and eighty. It is an awful discrepancy.

A. : Why, have j*ou noticed that ? (Shaking hands.) Many a time it has seemed to mo like a discrepancy, but somehow I cculdn't make up my mind. How quick you notice a thing !

Q. : Thank you for the compliment, as far as it goes. Had you, or have you, any brothers or sisters?

A. : Eh ! I— l— l think so— yes, but I don't remember.

Q. : Well, that is the most extraordinary statement I have heard !

A. .- Ah ! that's just it ! That's it exactly. You see, we were twins — a brother and I — and we got mixed in the bath-tub when we were only twio weeks; old, and one of us was drowned. But we didn't know which. Some think it was Bill. Some think it was me.

What do

Q. : Well, that is remarkable, yon think 1

A. : I would give whole worlds to know ! This solemn, this awful mystery has cast a gloom over my whole life. One of tts had a peculiar mark — a large mole on the back of his left hand : that was me. That child was the one that was drowned !

Q. : Well, I believe I have get material enough for the present, and I am very much obliged to j r ou for' the pains you have taken. But I was a good deal interested in that account of Aaron Burr's funeral. Would you mind telling me what particular circumstance it was that made you think Burr was suoh a remarkable man?

A. : Oh ! it was a mere trifle . Not one man in fifty would have noticed it at all. When th© sermon Was over, and the procession all ready to start for the cemetery, and the body all arranged nice in the hoarse, he said hie wanted to take a last look at ths scenery, and so he got up and rode with the diiver.

Then the young man reverently withdrew. He was very pleasant company, and I was sorry to see him go. — Makk Twain.

spiration. Ho knew a gcod booster when he saw one. And the next morning when Doctor K>ewackem left Braggville he took John along. .and even the conductor bought a bottle of medicine before they got to thj next station. Moral : Silence is Golden, but the man with the Gab Gets There.— Al. C. Joy.