It seems unworthy, after the relation of this intimate domestic scene, to add any words of exhortation to the reader and student. I will not pretend that the interview is a form of true literature. If I have been guilty of too great a confidence, my excess has proceeded from an earnest desire to watch over others of my kind, and to warn them lest by one chance refusal they should destroy the opportunities of a lifetime. To interview another, even a rival, is sometimes necessary at the outset of a career. It is an experience that need not be repeated. It is one that no earnest student of human nature will regret. The powerful emotions aroused by the reminiscence of Dr. Caliban’s eloquence, and of the meeting to which it led, must not be desecrated by too lengthy an insistence upon the mere technique of a subsidiary branch of modern letters. I will state very briefly my conclusions as to what is indispensable in the regulation of this kind of literature. It is, in the first place, of some moment that the young interviewer should take his hat and gloves with him in his left hand into the room. If he carries an umbrella or cane, this also should be carried in the same hand, leaving the right hand completely free. Its readiness for every purpose is the mark of a gentleman, and the maintenance of that rank is absolutely necessary to the _sans gêne_ which should accompany a true interview. In the second place, let him, the moment he appears, explain briefly the object of his visit. Without any such introduction as “The fact is ...” “It is very odd, but ...”, let him say plainly and simply, like an Englishman, “I have been sent to interview you on the part of such and such a paper.” He will then be handed (in the majority of cases) a short type-written statement, which he will take into his right hand, pass into his left, in among the gloves, stick, hat, &c., and will bow, not from the shoulders, nor from the hips, but subtly from the central vertebrae. In the third place he will go out of the room. There are two exceptions to this general procedure. The first is with men quite unknown; the second with men of high birth or great wealth. In the first case, the hat and gloves should be laid upon a table and the stick leaning against it in such a way as not to fall down awkwardly in the middle of a conversation. The student will then begin to talk in a genial manner loudly, and will continue for about half-an-hour; he will end by looking at his watch, and will go away and write down what he feels inclined. In the second case, he will do exactly the same, but with a different result, for in the first case he will very probably become the friend of the person interviewed, which would have happened anyhow, and in the second case he will be forbidden the house, a result equally inevitable.