oyster opened? Yes?
Well, an interviewer's business is the same thing. His man is his oyster,
which he, not with sword, but with pencil and note-book, must open. Mark
how the oysterman's thin blade insinuates itself,--how gently at first,
how strenuously when once fairly between the shells!

"And here, I said, you write your books,--those books which have carried
your name to all parts of the world, and will convey it down to
posterity! Is this the desk at which you write? And is this the pen you
write with?

"'It is the desk and the very pen,' he replied.

"He was pleased with my questions and my way of putting them. I took up
the pen as reverentially as if it had been made of the feather which the
angel I used to read about in Young's "Night Thoughts" ought to have
dropped, and did n't.

"Would you kindly write your autograph in my note-book, with that pen? I
asked him. Yes, he would, with great pleasure.

"So I got out my note-book.

"It was a spick and span new one, bought on purpose for this interview.
I admire your bookcases, said I. Can you tell me just how high they are?

"'They are about eight feet, with the cornice.'

"I should like to have some like those, if I ever get rich enough, said
I. Eight feet,--eight feet, with the cornice. I must put that down.

"So I got out my pencil.

"I sat there with my pencil and note-book in my hand, all ready, but not
using them as yet.

"I have heard it said, I observed, that you began writing poems at a very
early age. Is it taking too great a liberty to ask how early you began
to write in verse?

"He was getting interested, as people are apt to be when they are
themselves the subjects of conversation.

"'Very early,--I hardly know how early. I can say truly, as Louise Colet
said,

"'Je fis mes premiers vers sans savoir les ecrire.'"

"I am not a very good French scholar, said I; perhaps you will be kind
enough to translate that line for me.

"'Certainly. With pleasure. I made my first verses without knowing how
to write them.'

"How interesting! But I never heard of Louise Colet. Who was she?

"My man was pleased to gi-ve me a piece of literary information.

"'Louise the lioness! Never heard of her? You have heard of Alphonse
Karr?'

"Why,--yes,--more or less. To tell the truth, I am not very well up in
French literature. What had he to do with your lioness?

"'A good deal. He satirized her, and she waited at his door with a
case-knife in he