away. Town dogs sumtimes combine agin a country dog, jest like town
boys try to run over country boys. I wish you could see Dr. Miller's dog
Cartoosh. He jest lays in the piazzer all day watchin' out for a stray
dog, and as soon as he sees him he goes for him, and he can tell in half
a minit whether he can whip him or run him; and if he can, he does it
instanter, and if he can't he runs to the next yard, where there's two
more dogs that nabor with him, and in a minit they all cum a tarin' out
together, and that country dog has to run or take a whippin', shore.
I've seen Cartoosh play that game many a time. These town pups remind me
powerfully of small editurs prowlin' around for news. In my opinyun they
is the inventors of the interview bisness.


INTERVIEWERS

If it ain't a doggish sort of bisnes I'm mistaken in my idees of the
proprietes of life. When a man gits into trubble, these sub editurs go
fur him right strait, and they force their curosity away down into his
heart strings, and bore into his buzzom with an augur as hard and as
cold as chilld iron. Then away they go to skatter his feelins and
sekrets to the wide, wide world. You see the poor feller can't help
himself, for if he won't talk they'll go off and slander him, and make
the publik beleeve he's dun sumthing mean, and is ashamed to own it.
I've knowd em to go into a dungeon and interview a man who dident have
two hours to live. Dot rot em. I wish one of em would try to interview
me. If he didn't catch leather under his coat tail it would be bekaus he
retired prematurely--that's all. But I like editurs sorter--especially
sum. I like them that is the guardeens of sleepin' liberty, and good
morals, and publik welfare, and sich like; but there's sum kinds I don't
like. Them what makes sensation a bizness; feedin' the peepul on