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Updated: May 24, 2025
Said one of them: "Not every interviewer in New York knows how to write how to put a sentence together decently. And there are perhaps a few who don't accurately know the difference between impudence and wit." A caustic remark, perhaps.
The Interviewer watched one of these fruit-sellers, and saw that his hand-cart stopped opposite the house where, as he knew, Maurice Kirkwood was living. Presently Paolo came out of the door, and began examining the contents of the hand-cart. The Interviewer saw his opportunity. Here was an introduction to the man, and the man must introduce him to the master.
Decatur gazed sentimentally over the smart little polo-hat of the "lady journalist" and out of the window at a sky a sky as gray as Jane's eyes had been that last night when they had parted, she to travel abroad with her aunt, he to become a cub reporter on a city daily. "Yes, I would like very much to find her," he replied. Do you think, after this, that the interviewer waited for more? Not she.
Something to eat was not hard to get then as it is now. We raise a hog in a pen nearly every year but it takes plenty to feed it that way. "My husband have rheumatism and we get $12 and commodities. He works in the field and I wash and iron when I can get some to do. That is scarce. He works all he can." Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person Interviewed: Mamie Thompson Brinkley, Ark. Age: 68
"What is being interviewed like?" a young lady once asked me, unconscious she was subjecting me to the process. "It is being asked what you drink and not getting it," I explained to her. The curiosity of the interviewer is indeed boundless. He even asks which is your favourite author, so that you are forced to advertise some other fellow.
Maggard nodded, wondering what moral was to be drawn from tan-bark ring and canvas top, and his interviewer continued: "Then like es not ye've seed one of them fellers in tights an' tin spangles balancin' a ladder on his chest with a see-saw atop hit an' a human bein' settin' on each eend of thet see-saw.
I am, I think, entitled to consider myself a fairly first-class authority on all varieties of interviewer, not only in New York but in sundry other great cities. My initiation was brief, but it was thorough. The brand in question, as to which I was amiably cautioned before even leaving the steamer, is usually very young, and as often a girl as a youth.
I think they is just goin' out to nothin'. They say they are gettin' weaker and wiser but I think they are weaker and foolish they are not wise in the right way. Some are very good to their parents and some are not. "Honey, I don't know how things is goin' all I know is they is mighty tight right now." Interviewer: Mrs.
The next morning, as the Interviewer took his seat on a bench outside his door, to smoke his after-breakfast cigar, a bright-looking and handsome youth, whose features recalled those of Euthymia so strikingly that one might feel pretty sure he was her brother, took a seat by his side. Presently the two were engaged in conversation.
What a piece of work it would make among the lively youths of the village, to be sure! What scoffing, what ridicule, what embellishments, what fables, would follow in the trail of the story! If the Interviewer got hold of it, how "The People's Perennial and Household Inquisitor" would blaze with capitals in its next issue!
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