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 the Wind,” “A Gentleman in Difficulties,” “Where shall I dine?” and “Honest Thieves.”  We mean to commence the present season with “All in the wrong,” and “His Last Legs.”

PUNCH.—­Humph!  I am sorry to say I have received several complaints of the manner in which you have conducted the business of your establishment for several years.  It appears you put forth bills promising wonders, while your performances have been of the lowest possible description.

RUSS.—­S’elp me, Bob! there ain’t a word of truth in it.  If there’s anything we takes pride on, ’tis our gentility.

PUNCH.—­You have degraded the drama by the introduction of card-shufflers and thimble-rig impostors.

RUSS.—­We denies the thimble-rigging in totum, my lud; that was brought out at Stanley’s opposition booth.

PUNCH.—­At least you were a promoter of state conjuring and legerdemain tricks on the stage.

RUSS.—­Only a little hanky-panky, my lud.  The people likes it; they loves to be cheated before their faces.  One, two, three—­presto—­begone.  I’ll show your ludship as pretty a trick of putting a piece of money in your eye and taking it out of your elbow, as you ever beheld. Has your ludship got such a thing as a good shilling about you?  ’Pon my honour, I’ll return it.