announce, that a special warrant has been issued, appointing our friend and protégé, the gallant and jocular Sibthorp, to the important office of beadle and crier to the House of Commons—a situation which has been created from the difficulty which has hitherto been found in inducing strangers to withdraw during a division of the House. This responsible office could not have been conferred upon any one so capable of discharging its onerous duties as the Colonel. We will stake our hump, that half-a-dozen words of the gallant Demosthenes would, at any time have the effect of

CLEARING THE STRANGER’S GALLERY.

THE GREAT CRICKET MATCH AT ST. STEPHEN’S.

FIRST INNINGS.

The return match between the Reform and Carlton Clubs has been the theme of general conversation during the past week. Some splendid play was exhibited on the occasion, and, although the result has realised the anticipations of the best judges, it was not achieved without considerable exertion.

It will be remembered that, the last time these celebrated clubs met, the Carlton men succeeded in scoring one notch more than their rivals; who, however, immediately challenged them to a return match, and have been diligently practising for success since that time.

The players assembled in Lord’s Cricket Ground on Tuesday last, when the betting was decidedly in favour of the Cons, whose appearance and manner was more confident than usual; while, on the contrary, the Rads seemed desponding and shy. On tossing up, the Whigs succeeded in getting first innings, and the Tories dispersed themselves about the field in high glee, flattering themselves that they would not be out long.

Wellington, on producing the ball—a genuine Duke—excited general admiration by his position. Ripon officiated as bowler at the other wicket. Sibthorp acted as long-stop, and the rest found appropriate situations. Lefevre was chosen umpire by mutual consent.

Spencer and Clanricarde went in first. Spencer, incautiously trying to score too many notches for one of his hits, was stumped out by Ripon, and Melbourne succeeded him. Great expectations had been formed of this player by his own party, but he was utterly unable to withstand Wellington’s rapid bowling, which soon sent him to the right-about. Clanricarde was likewise run out without scoring a notch.

Lansdowne and Brougham were now partners at the wickets; but Lansdowne did not appear to like his mate, on whose play it is impossible to calculate. Coventry, the short slip, excited much merriment, by a futile attempt to catch this player out, which terminated in his finding himself horizontal and mortified. Wellington, having bowled out Lansdowne, resigned his ball to Peel, who took his place at the wicket with a smile of confidence, which frightened the bat out of the hands of Phillips, the next Rad.

Dundas and Labouchere were now the batmen. Labouchere is a very intemperate player. One of Sandon’s slow balls struck his thumb, and put him out of temper, whereupon he hit about at random, and knocked down his wicket. Wakley took his bat, but apparently not liking his position, he hit up and caught himself out.

O’Connell took his place with a lounging swagger, but his first ball was caught by the immortal Sibthorp, who uttered more puns on the occasion than the oldest man present recollected to have heard perpetrated in any given time. Russell—who, by the bye, excavated several quarts of ‘heavy’ during his innings—was the last man the Rads had to put in. He played with care, and appeared disposed to keep hold of the bat as long as possible. He was, however, quietly disposed of by one of Peel’s inexorable balls.

Thus far the game has proceeded. The Cons have yet to go in. The general opinion is, that they will not remain in so long as the Rads, but that they will score their notches much quicker. Indeed, it was commonly remarked, that no players had ever remained in so long, and had done so little good withal, as the Reformites.

Betting is at 100 to 5 in favour of the Carlton men, and anxiety is on tip-toe to know the result of the next innings.

The Tories are exulting in their recent victory over the poor Whigs, whom they affirm have been tried, and found wanting. A trial, indeed, where all the jurors were witnesses for the prosecution. One thing is certain, that the country, as usual, will have to pay the costs, for a Tory verdict will be certain to carry them. The Whigs should prepare a motion for a new trial, on the plea that the late decision was that of

A PACKED JURY.

DECIDEDLY UNPLEASANT.

“Kiss the broad moon.”—MARTINUZZI.

CURIOUS COINCIDENCE.

The Morning Advertiser has a paragraph containing a report of an extraordinary indisposition under which a private of the Royal Guards is now suffering. It appears he lately received a violent kick from a horse, on the back of his head: since which time his hair has become so sensitive, that he cannot bear any one to approach him or touch it. On some portion being cut off by stratagem, he evinced the utmost disgust, accompanied with a volley of oaths. This may be wonderful in French hair, but it is nothing to the present sufferings of the Whigs in England.

THE BARTHOLOMEW FAIR SHOW-FOLKS.

Punch having been chosen by the unanimous voice of the public—the arbiter elegantiarum in all matters relating to science, literature, and the fine arts—and from his long professional experience, being the only person in England competent to regulate the public amusements of the people, the Lord Mayor of London has confided to him the delicate and important duty of deciding upon the claims of the several individuals applying for licenses to open show-booths during the approaching Bartholomew Fair. Punch, having called to his assistance Sir Peter Laurie and Peter Borthwick, proceeded, on last Saturday, to hold his inquisition in a highly-respectable court in the neighbourhood of West Smithfield.

The first application was made on behalf of Richardson’s Booth, by two individuals named Melbourne and Russell.

PUNCH.—On what grounds do you claim?

MEL.—On those of long occupancy and respectability, my lord.

RUSS.—We employs none but the werry best of actors, my lud—all “bould speakers,” as my late wenerated manager, Muster Richardson, used to call ‘em.

MEL.—We have the best scenery and decorations, the most popular performances—

RUSS.—Hem! (aside to MEL.)—Best say nothing about our performances, Mel.

PUNCH.—Pray what situations do you respectively hold in the booth?

MEL.—I am principal manager, and do the heavy tragedy business. My friend, here, is the stage-manager and low comedy buffer, who takes the kicks, and blows the trumpet of the establishment.

PUNCH.—What is the nature of the entertainments you have been in the habit of producing?

RUSS.—Oh! the real legitimate drammar—“A New Way to Pay Old Debts,” “Raising