The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1833-09-17 00:00:00

AMERICAN GLEANINGS.

Letters from New Orleans, dated the Bth instant, state that
the prospect of the crops of both cotton and sugar, had not
been better for several years, and that the place was extremely
healthy.
When William Plumer was Governor of New Hampshire,
he appointed Mr. John Harvey, who had long kept a tavern in
Northword, to a vacant seat on the bench of the Common
Pleas. The Chief Justice (Atkinson,) was at dinner table
with a party of friends when the appointment was made known,
on which he filled a glass, and drank to his new associate—
"Here's to the honourable Judge Harvey—may he give as
good satisfaction on the bench as ho did at the bar !"
AUGUSTA, (Georgia,) August 12.—During the last week
our city has been visited with frequent heavy showers of
rain, accompanied with much thunder and lightning, which
has caused the river within the last day or two to take a
considerable rise—it is now all over the lower wharfs, and should
it continue rising, (which it will, no doubt, as it still rains hea-
vily,) it will do immense damage to the corn fields along the
river, many of which will be entirely swept off, should the water
cover the upper wharfs. Our stock of cotton now on hand will
not reach over 1,000 bales—it comes in very sparingly, in fact
there is but very- little expected—it meets with ready sale at 12
(& NA cents., prune would command 15. Our city at present is
very healthy, butthese heavy rains it is feared will make it sickly.
—P.S. Nine o'clock.—The river is now on a level with the upper
wharfs, and is still rising—it has ceased raining. The damage
that will be done to corn plantations will be immense, should
the river rise two feet higher, which in all probability it will, as
front what we can learn the rains have been also very heavy in
the' interior 'of the state. _

" THEY SAY."—Upon terms and technicalities one might
write and talk as loag as he could hold his pen or move his
tongue. But the handle to this article will furnish a subject
for our present cogitations. "They say. "—aud we would ask
who is ? The answer is ready, he is something—nothing.
He lives, but lives nowhere ; tie is acquainted with every
body, but nobody is acquainted with him. He. knows every
one's business, b-nt uo one knows his. He always tells the
truth because he never can be cavht to tell a lie. y We hardly,
ever knew a story to be in circulation, of a suspicious charac-
ter; but what this " They say" was the author. To mention
a few circumstances that are familiar with every one. On what
authority did you state, or who did you hear say that Mr. A.
was a candidate for Senator? Why, " They say so. Where
;did you get the news of Esq. o.'s being intoxicated? Why,
" They say " so. Is it true that Miss Markwell is to be mar-
ried to Mr. Timbertoes ? Why, " They say " so. Did you hear
that Miss Story Teller was guilty of falsehood? Why, " They
say" so. Reader, doubt the authority of this gentleman. He
is a deceiver, and nearly connected with that Mr. Nobody, who
travellingis among us, but known only in the imaginations of
those who have no character, and who arc seeking to dispossess
you of yours. We advise every, one to disregard all stories
that originate with this Mr. " They' say," if they wish to re-
tain their own respectability and enjoy a degree of happiness.
—Barnstaple Journal.
The militia laws, if we judge from the Philadelphia papers,
are in bad odour in that city. The citizens will neither muster
or pay tine. The Gazette of Thursday gives a ludicrous descrip-
tion of the mishaps of a collector, named Hurlick, while en-
gaged in his " profession," as that paper terms it. He is col-
lector for the regiment formerly commanded by the renowned
Col. Pluck. We make the following. extract:—" Yesterday
afternoon, he was observed in the vicinity of Noble and Front
streets, with a roll of militia bills, and his eternal green bag,
and no sooner observed, than the whole neighbourhood was in
commotion. The streets were filled with men and women, cats
and dogs; the windows were blocked up with human heads—
men left their business to note the wonderful scene. For a time,
silence prevailed, and the multitude awaited the shifting of the
.scene iu breathless attention. "There goes Huriick,' at length
shouted a yellow headed urchin, which was the signal for the
commencement of a grand attack. ' I lurrah fur the mad dog,'
said another, and ' mad dog, mad dog,' was heard in all direc-
tions. Deal him gently,' shouted a
.third, followiug the
.cry
shoWer of stale eggs, from a barrel full, whieliliad boon
placed mn a convenient spot for the use of the mob. • Then
ensued such an uproar as the people of the Northern Liberties
never before witnessed. Hurlick ran—the mob pursued, shout-
ing and pelting—he entered a private house, went through,
and made his escape by a back door, but was seen and followed.
He jumped into a pig-pen, but was glad to escape with the loss
of his coat tail. Again he ran, and again he was pursued,
the cry of mad dog !' still resounding in his cars. As a last
resort, when neariy exhausted, lie opened a cellar door, and
jumped down. The celiai was halt' full of water, and souse
went the unhappy collector up to his middle. Here he remained
for some time—the mob seeing, the predicament iu which he
was placed, molested him no farther, and after a time he was
taken out and sent home."—New York paper.
DUTIES OF AN EDITOR.—Of the multitude of persons who are
regaled every morning or evening with an ample sheet filled
with literature, politics, entertainment, Advice, morals, and
news, how few have any conception of the labour of hands and
brain which the preparation of it has cost. The whole time of
several individuals has been devoted to afford him the amuse-
mentof an hour or two. An editor has, indeed, a hardlife of it.
He must know every thing, hear every thing, read every thing,
and give an opinion upon every thing. He must accommodate
himself to an infinite variety of tastes—to the young and the old,
the grave and the gay, the sentimentalist and the man of business,
the countryman and the cit. He must be all things to all men ; he
must offend no man ; he must instruct, amuse, and inform. He
must never lose his temper, happen what will. And yet, with
the best intentions in the world, he is constantly liable to give
offence. A subscriber writes a communication which has
neither sense nor grammar, rhyme nor reason; it is rejected;
the writer comes up foaming at the mouth to take off his name
from the subscription list, aud is our enemy for ever after. And
then an editor has always a regiment of kind friends who drop
in upon-him every day to read his papers and give him advice.
Some tell him thiit his paper is too light and trifling; others,
that it is too heavy and dull ; sonic that it is too senti-
mental, others, that it is too business-like ; some complain that
we are lukewarm in the cause of temperance, others, that we
are harping upon that string till all moderate people are dis-
gusted with it; and to all this we must not only be resigned but
grateful. The toils of an editor know neither end nor inter-
mission. The lexicographer comes at last to the end of his
alphabet; the galley slave reaches his harbour; but his labour
is renewed with the rising sun of every day. In vain.Nahant
woos him with its cool breezes; in vain Niaga,ra foams and
thunders aud decks itself with rainbows; in vain the Katskill
displays its shady bowers. An iron hand grasps him aud keeps
him at home. lie must pace the hot side-walks the whole sum-
mer long, and breathe the lazy city air. In the fiery dog-days
he must rack his brain—already as dry as a sucked orange—for
something to tickle the maw of that insatiable monster, the pub-
lic. He must always be on his post. And for all this he must
be often content with nothing but the approbation of his own
conscience—a noble reward, truly, but; unfortunately, a thing
too etherial to he-coined into wend and butter.—Boston Mercan-
tile Journal.