interviewers, not too young, and a confraternity of men who did not
disdain an elementary knowledge of their business. One of these arrived
with a written list of questions, took a shorthand note of all I said,
and then brought me a proof to correct. In interviewing this amounts
almost to genius.... I have indicated what to me seems a
defect--trifling, possibly, but still a defect--in the brilliant
organization of the great national sport of interviewing. Were this
defect removed, as it could be, the institution might be as perfect as
the American oyster. Than which nothing is more perfect.

* * * * *

"You aren't drinking your coffee," said some one, inspecting my cup at
the saloon table.

"No," I answered, firmly; for when the smooth efficiency of my human
machine is menaced I am as faddy and nervous as a marine engineer over
lubrication. "If I did, I shouldn't sleep."

"And what of it?" demanded my particular friend, challengingly.

It was a rebuke. It was as if he had said, "On this great night, when
you enter my wondrous and romantic country for the first time, what does
it matter whether you sleep or not?"

I saw the point. I drank the coffee. The romantic sense, which had been
momentarily driven back by the discussion of general ideas, swept over
me again.... In fact, through the saloon windows could be seen all the
Battery end of New York and the first vague visions of sky-scrapers....
Then-the moments refused to be counted--we were descending by lifts and