The Sun.
London, England, 1842-01-27 00:00:00

MISERIES OF EDITORS.

1. A kind visitor, whom you would make almost
any sacrifice to rather than offend—without the
least ill intention in the world, but merely moved
and instigated by mother Eve's fatal vice, curiosity,
rumaging your private desk, if it happen to be com-
modiously open, examining your letters and other
correspondence ; resorting to your composition
drawer, on the ground of intimate acquaintance;
deranging and inspecting manuscripts, when you
had as lief he had intruded into your- wife's dress-
ing-room ; or peeping over the cases, and inter-
rupting compositors, to see the original articles,
which you did not intend to show him, or anybody
else, except through the medium of the press.
2. Receiving a manuscript, of which it seems
doubtful whether the writer intended to represent
European, Chaldaic, or Chinese characters ; and,
after patient attempts to decypher the hieroglyphics,
resorting to the author, and hearing his unfeigned
expression of astonishment that you did not find all
as plain and legible as a new tin pan.
3. Just as you are in the busiest part of your
daily duties, in preparing your paper., having an
obliging call, with a very verbose communication
of a private nature, which you are required not only
to receive, but to hear read, amid the din of other
calls—" Proof is ready I"—" Waiting for proof,
Sir I"—and the prospect of a late paper, and sub-
sequent complaint in anticipation grinding on your
feelings.
4. Inquiries---" Who wrote that article ?" when
you have no fair right to inform, when it seems un-
kind to refuse, and incredulous to say you do not
know.

5. In a busy moment receiving a personal lam-
poon, which you are resolved not to publish, yet
wish to give your reasons, without time to explain
them. N.l3.—The writer, full of the justice of his
cause, and perfectly incredulous that there are two
sides of a question.
6. A modest request from a good friend, just as
your paper ought to be at press, that you would
prepare a special article for his particular view.
7. And lastly, for the present, a quick succes-
sion of complaints, such as—" Why was our ad-
vertisement omitted ?-1 hat communication will be
too late next week.—The other papers have that
news more in detail—l wonder you should publish
so many light articles, and leave o'ut commercial
ones—This is an important time, and politics ought
to be your principal object—Literary articles ought
to claim a part of your attention ;" till, with forlorn
gaze, you measure with your eye the extent of the
columns of your pape.r,. and wistfully exclaim—
., ye Gods ! annihilate but time and space,
And make us printers happy."
POSTSCRIPT— Anotherdreadful misery.—While
you are collecting news from a dozen or twenty dif-
ferent papers, when you have to keep in your mind's
eye the leading features of all, to have your papers
misplaced, and your arrangements all broken in
upon by the busy interference of half-a-dozen good-
natured, friendly loungers, who after having ago-
nised your feelings into a high fever, retire, one
after another, humming a tune, " What's this dull
town to me ?" or giving some other indication of
their idle propensity or negligentaire.—New York
New Era.

NOVEL MODE OF PROVING IDENTITY.—
When the last overland mail arrived from India, a son
of Neptune, still in receipt of her Majesty's pay as
purser in the Royal Navy, and now a flourishing ship-
owner and merchant at Liverpool, happened to be in
London. He was most anxious to take time by the fore-
lock, and get possession of his letters without waiting for
them to travel to Liverpool and back. For this purpose
the son of the deep presented himself at St. Martin's-le-
Grand, and made known his wishes. The letters were
found and tendered to him on condition of the payment
of the postage, with the fee for stopping them in. transitu,
and proving that he was the real veritable person he re-
presented himself to be. The latter point was the diffi-
culty. He knew plenty of people who could easily do
this if the Post office would allow him time ; but the
clerk said, "Twenty minutes, Sir, and the letters must
be re-bagged, and on the way to Liverpool." " Twenty
.
minutes !" echoed the merchant purser, " I were to
set all sail I could not fetch a friend and be back in time,
Twenty minutes 1" he exclaimed again, striking his hand
against his forehead. After a moment's pause he tn
it -
urnphantly cried out, " I have I can prove my own
identity 1" when he forthwith drew out and presented to
the astonished man in office the tail of his shirt with his
name and address thereon in clear and distinct charac-
ters 1 The clerk could not deny such evidence, and the
letters were immediately delivered.
SURREY THEATRE.—What there may be in
Miss Kemble's Norma, suggestive of the ridiculous, it
is difficult to determine, but it would seem that its per-
formance is likely to reme the days of burlesque in
their former glory. Following the Adelphi example, a
trittrestie of Bellim's opera was on Monday produced at
this house. Here the i)ruidess is transformed into a
mistress of a parish school, the Roman Consul into the
parish beadle, and the priestess of Esus into No. I, on
the girls' side. Allowing always for the absence of
Paul Bedford and Wright, who are not to be found at
every theatre, there is quite as much fun in the Surrey
travestie as in that of the house on " the other side the
water." The charity-school idea is clever and original,
and has the additional merit of being well worked out.
The piece was favourably received.
Mr. Thomas Brown, a noted training groom,
died at Lewes on Sunday last, at the advanced age of
eighty-eight. lie was well known at the Epsom, Can-
terbury, and other races, and had been the proprietor of
the racing livery stables in Lewes upwards of 30 years.