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 crowd of people in a jury box. A PACKED JURY. DECIDEDLY UNPLEASANT. “Kiss the broad moon.”—MARTINUZZI. Go kiss the moon!—that’s more, sirs, than I can dare; ’Tis worse than madness—hasn’t she her man there?