Part 15

“Oh, there are plenty of members who are willing enough to write, --especially to give an account of their own papers. I think they like to have me put in the applause, when they get any. I do that sometimes.” (How much more, she did not say.)

“I have seen some very well written articles, which, from what they tell me of the Secretary, I should have thought she might have written herself.”

He looked her straight in the eyes.

“I have transmitted some good papers,” she said, without winking, or swallowing, or changing color, precious little color she had to change; her brain wanted all the blood it could borrow or steal, and more too. “You spoke of Newspapers,” she said, without any change of tone or manner: “do you not frequently write for them yourself?”

“I should think I did,” answered the young man. “I am a regular correspondent of 'The People's Perennial and Household Inquisitor.'”

“The regular correspondent from where?”

“Where! Oh, anywhere,--the place does not make much difference. I have been writing chiefly from Naples and St. Petersburg, and now and then from Constantinople.”

“How long since your return to this country, may I ask?”

“My return? I have never been out of this country. I travel with a gazetteer and some guide-books. It is the cheapest way, and you can get the facts much better from them than by trusting your own observation. I have made the tour of Europe by the help of them and the newspapers. But of late I have taken to interviewing. I find that a very pleasant specialty. It is about as good sport as trout-tickling, and much the same kind of business. I should like to send the Society an account of one of my interviews. Don't you think they would like to hear it?”

“I have no doubt they would. Send it to me, and I will look it over; and if the Committee approve it, we will have it at the next meeting. You know everything has to be examined and voted on by the Committee,” said the cautious Secretary.

“Very well,--I will risk it. After it is read, if it is read, please send it back to me, as I want to sell it to 'The Sifter,' or 'The Second Best,' or some of the paying magazines.”

This is the paper, which was read at the next meeting of the Pansophian Society.

“I was ordered by the editor of the newspaper to which I am attached, 'The People's Perennial and Household Inquisitor,' to make a visit to a certain well-known writer, and obtain all the particulars I could concerning him and all that related to him. I have interviewed a good many politicians, who I thought rather liked the process; but I had never tried any of these literary people, and I was not quite sure how this one would feel about it. I said as much to the chief, but he pooh-poohed my scruples. 'It is n't our business whether they like it or not,' said he; 'the public wants it, and what the public wants it's bound to have, and we are bound to furnish it. Don't be afraid of your man; he 's used to it,--he's been pumped often enough to take it easy, and what you've got to do is to pump him dry. You need n't be modest,--ask him what you like; he is n't bound to answer, you know.'

“As he lived in a rather nice quarter of the town, I smarted myself up a little, put on a fresh collar and cuffs, and got a five-cent shine on my best high-lows. I said to myself, as I was walking towards the house where he lived, that I would keep very shady for a while and pass for a visitor from a distance; one of those 'admiring strangers' who call in to pay their respects, to get an autograph, and go home and say that they have met the distinguished So and So, which gives them a certain distinction in the village circle to which they belong.

“My man, the celebrated writer, received me in what was evidently his reception-room. I observed that he managed to get the light full on my face, while his own was in the shade. I had meant to have his face in the light, but he knew the localities, and had arranged things so as to give him that advantage. It was like two frigates manoeuvring,--each trying to get to windward of the other. I never take out my note-book until I and my man have got engaged in artless and earnest conversation,--always about himself and his works, of course, if he is an author.

“I began by saying that he must receive a good many callers. Those who had read his books were naturally curious to see the writer of them.

“He assented, emphatically, to this statement. He had, he said, a great many callers.

“I remarked that there was a quality in his books which made his readers feel as if they knew him personally, and caused them to cherish a certain attachment to him.

“He smiled, as if pleased. He was himself disposed to think so, he said. In fact, a great many persons, strangers writing to him, had told him so.

“My dear sir,” I said, “there is nothing wonderful in the fact you mention. You reach a responsive chord in many human breasts.

'One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin.'

“Everybody feels as if he, and especially she (his eyes sparkled), were your blood relation. Do they not name their children after you very frequently?

“He blushed perceptibly. 'Sometimes,' he answered. 'I hope they will all turn out well.'

“I am afraid I am taking up too much of your time, I said.

“No, not at all,' he replied. 'Come up into my library; it is warmer and pleasanter there.'

“I felt confident that I had him by the right handle then; for an author's library, which is commonly his working-room, is, like a lady's boudoir, a sacred apartment.

“So we went upstairs, and again he got me with the daylight on my face, when I wanted it on has.

“You have a fine library, I remarked. There were books all round the room, and one of those whirligig square book-cases. I saw in front a Bible and a Concordance, Shakespeare and Mrs. Cowden Clarke's book, and other classical works and books of grave aspect. I contrived to give it a turn, and on the side next the wall I got a glimpse of Barnum's Rhyming Dictionary, and several Dictionaries of Quotations and cheap compends of knowledge. Always twirl one of those revolving book-cases when you visit a scholar's library. That is the way to find out what books he does n't want you to see, which of course are the ones you particularly wish to see.