THE INTERVIEWER.

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I pitty the poor Interviewer, he iz not alwus a bad phellow at heart, but hiz trade iz a mean one, and the bizzness haz spilte him.

I would rather lead a blind mule on the tow-path for a living, or retail soft klams from a ricketty waggon, than tew be an Interviewer, and worry people with questions, they waz afrade tew answer and too vain tew refuse.

The Interviewer iz a human hosstrich, feeding on enny thing he kan find, and digesting eazy enny thing he can swallo.

He iz a kind ov kultivated hyena, and makes yu shudder to think, that at enny moment, he may turn wild and begin tew hunt for a human beefstake.

He haz just branes enuff tew keep hiz impudence aktiv, and tho he haz but little malice, he will hunt yu sharper, and worry yu wuss, than a canal boat bedbug.

He iz like a ritch cheeze, chuck phull ov little things.

Thare iz no eskaping this breed ov kritters, if yu run they will overtake yu, if yu steal into yure hole they will either dig for yu, or stand around on the outside till yu cum out.

They are wuss than a flea tew a long-haired dog.

Interviewers are a cross between the old-fashioned quid nunk and the modern Buzzer, and are a pesky improvement on both.

Death itself iz no eskape from the Interviewer, for they 321 will hang around the departure till they git an item, and then go for the widow.

The Interviewer would rather tell the truth if he kan, but aint discouraged if he iz forced tew tell what aint so.

They are az dangerous tew admit into yure konfidence az a pickpocket iz, not bekause they will take enny spoons, but bekauze yu are haff afrade they will.

Modesty would ruin an Interviewer, delikasy would unfit him for bizzness, he kan even thrive without being honest, and tew make him an adept in hiz calling, he dont require enny more tenderness than an undertaker duz.

Yu kan git rid ov a hornet by brakeing his nek, yu kan outrun a blak snaik, and kan hide from the sheriff, but the Interviewer, like the cursid muskeeter in the dark, hovers around yu, and if he don’t bight, he sings, which is the wusstest ov the two.

I hav bin lit onto by the Interviewer miself, and hav answered hiz questions, az honest az ever a child did the katekism, and the next day read the dialogue in the morning paper, and it waz all az new to me az Old Probabilitiz log ov the weather.

Don’t never tell any sekrets tew an Interviewer; he will open them az they open oysters in the market, and retail them on the haff shell.

I treat all interviewers politely; when they begin tew bait 322 me, i ask them tew smoke (i never knu one to refuse), and when they press me too clussly then i begin tew whissell.

I am an awful poor whissler enny how.

I do really pitty the poor Interviewer; he works for hiz bread like enny other skribbler, and for what i kno, hates the bizzness, but i am sad when I say, that if he iz good at interviewing, he iz too impudent tew be good for enny thing else.

Sum people luv tew be interviewed, and i must say, theze kind of pholks never reach the dignity ov impudence; they are simply disgusting.

Yu kant git a journeyman Interviewer tew waste enny time on sutch stale goods; he would az soon think of interviewing a last year’s birds’ nest, or a kuntry gide-board.

Thare iz no kure for a reglar Interviewer; he thirsts for the game like a fox hound on the trak; he livs upon plunder, and would rather be sent up for 30 daze than to see hiz collum in the morning Gazzette without a trophy.


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