IT IS EASY TO WRITE FOR A NEWSPAPER.

Kumara Times, Issue 1076, 12 March 1880, Page 3

IT IS EASY TO WRITE FOR A NEWSPAPER.

He was a friend of mine, and used frequently to drop in and give me advice as to IIOW 1 ought to run my [taper. He was a minister, and consequently, thought I should devote it a little mote to the cause of religion, and not quite so much to politics. He said it could lie made a power for good in the Western lands, hi which We had both cast our fortunes. He was a lover of the original, too, and said he disliked to see reprint, and thought I should write more—take the .time, in fact, to fill the paper right up with good new stuff'. , 1 ventured to say, “ Brother, yon had a glorious meeting at the school-house, I hear ; suppose you write it up lor me.’’ He didn’t. Seem to act as though he wanted to. 1 urged. He flashed ft little ahd stood around, awkward like.. He had never been honored with, an invitation to write for thepiess befit re.' I still urged. Then he took off his gloves and hat. Then I gave him a seat at the table with paper and pencil. He sat down to editorial work. He Was always talking about how it should be done, and now he was at it. He started in. I went about my work, and having written up a column or two of matter for the days paper, left him still writing, while I went out to solicit some advertisements. I was gone an hour or two, and when I came back he was still at it. He was sweating awfully. His eyes were bent bn the dazzling white paper before him, and his pencil was a stub. I began to grow frightened. I knew I had only a small weekly’ paper, and that Its fourteen coiurns of space (one side was a patent inward) would not hold the contents of the Bible, and supplementary messages fi-oifi heaven besides. At last the man looked up and timidly advanced with a piece of paper in one hand, and suddenly went back to change a word. Then he came on again, and like one who had passed through a vision, held out a piece of. paper and, boldly asked, ‘-Will that do!” I looked at it. There, was just seven lines of it, advertising, measure. He Was a large man, weighing over 3501 b. then, hut when I met him three weeks later he weighed less than 155. He had been sick. The seven-line nine-hour effort was too much for him. But it was not all lost. He never advised an editor again Neither did he compose for a paper again. It was hard work for him to write, and he saw he was not cut out for an editor, —Chicago Journal,