A GENTLEMAN WHO KNEW HOW TO WRITE.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XV, Issue 239, 8 October 1880, Page 4

A GENTLEMAN WHO KNEW HOW TO WRITE.

Soma eighteen years ago, shortly after the great rush set in from Victoria to the newly found goldfields in Otago,- amongst the passengers who arrived in a crowded Bteamer from Melbourne was Yogel. As yet, Fortune, that fickle. goddess, had not been wooed and won by the illustrious Julius, and wben he, for the first time, trod New Zealand soil he was in a state that may not be inaptly termed, bard up. Walking along one of the—then only partly for ; med — streets of the city of Dunedin, Yogel spied a dapper little man in cord pants, knee boots, and with a riding whip in hand, bis appearance, leading, to the conclusion (hat he was a bit of a sport in his way. 'Ha! Rowley,' exclaimed Yogel, recognising in tbe dapper little' man an Australian acquaintance, are you here?' What's doing, eh; what jobare you on?' f Ob !' said* Rowley, 'l'm a newspaper agent.' 4 JrVell, look here, you know the newspaper proprietors. There are two newspapers ain't there?' 'Yes, two papers.' ' Well, Rowley, I want something to dcyapd you be kind- enough to oolige me by telling the newspaper people that you know a gentleman who has juet arrived from Melbourne ' who knows how to write.' \ Rowley ."haying promised to do what he could tor bis Australian friend who * knew how : to write,' left him for the timebeiog. A few days later. Yogel was engaged on one of the newspapers, There was no doubt about] it that a gentleman had been engaged wbo really knew how to write. ; Shortly afterwards it was discovered that the other paper, by some means, had also secured the services of a gentleman who knew how to write, add the war that waged between the two papers was fierce. On,e flue morning, however., the ,new,B-, puper people discovered something strange. One newspaper, received an article that was intended for its rival. It was in Vogel'a hand writing. The cat was then out of the bag. Yogel bad been writing at the same time for the two newspapers. . There was a rumpus, and the gentleman Irom Melbourne who knew how to write, for a brief space of time, subsided— in fact sank. But Yogel, like a cork, as the world knows, soon popped up again. Rowley has gone to his last borne, and sleeps under the green turf in the Symonds-street Cemetery. — Observer,