A few nights since, at a fashionable _hell_ in the western part of this _well policed_ metropolis, the following extraordinary wager was laid and decided. Lord -------- bet £5000 with the eldest son of the Duke of -------- who had frequently distinguished himself by his eccentricities, that he would carry him on his shoulders nine times round St. James’s square after the business of the house was finished. At three o’clock in the morning, the parties, attended by their friends, repaired to the spot; but here Lord ------- observed that his bet was to carry his opponent, but _not his clothes also_. However, the young hero of joking and smoking celebrity, was not to be done by his cunning adversary, and he actually, at that hour of the morning, with the wind sharp as a “serpent’s tooth,” stripped himself to the _buff_. Yes, gentle, refined, or rheumatic reader! he, this son of the Duke of --------, divesting himself of shame (if ever he had any), stripped himself of _all_, even to the most minute parts of his dress, and won £5000. And then covering himself, not with glory, but his clothes, went to finish at a bagnio, with the notorious and accommodating Miss C-------- of -------- Square, not a hundred miles off.--=“These are the Men of Fashion!!”= Batchelar, Printer, Long Alley. EXTRAORDINARY & FUNNY DOINGS IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD. [Illustration] It is ------ is a comical place, And you’ll find from one end to the other, And all classes of persons through life, Can daily find fault with the other. Some can gossip and tattle about, And fill every person with dizziness, What an excellent thing it would be, If people would mind their own business. Did you see Mrs Bubble-and-squeak, Walk out with her young daughter Sally, She has got on a new bonnet and shawl, And a nice handsome gown on the tally. Such a bustle, oh! dear, she does wear, Why cut up with pride I am sure she is, Some can always see other folks’ faults, But they never can mind their own business Mrs Stradle has just gone along, Don’t you think she’s a queer sort of creature She owes tenpence for chandler’s shop score, Besides eighteen pence for the baker. And she can drink gin like a fish, Which oft fills her head with dizziness, But you know that, is nothing to me, For I always do mind my own business. Mrs Thingembob, what do you think, You know Mrs and Miss Carbuncle, Last night took the pillows and sheets, Their flat irons and gowns to my uncle. I think between you and me, It can be nothing more than laziness, I wish you’d take my advice, Look at home and mind your own business, And we shall all find enough for to do. Madam,