'Well,' said Mr. Jeremiah, who with much ado forbore laughing immoderately, 'for this once I shall spare your life: but then remember--not a word, no sound or syllable.' 'Not one, your honour, I vow to heaven.' 'And down upon the spot deliver me your coat, side arms, and hat.' But the martial wig-maker protested that, being already ill of a cold, he should, without all doubt, perish if he were to keep guard in his shirt-sleeves. 'Well, in that case, this dreadnought will be a capital article: allow me to prescribe it--it's an excellent sudorific.' Necessity has no law: and so, to save his life, the city hero, after some little struggle, submitted to this unusual exchange. 'Very good!' said Mr. Schnackenberger, as the warrior in the dreadnought, after mounting his round hat, again shouldered his musket:--'Now, good-night;' and so saying, he hastened off to the residence of the Mayor. CHAPTER XVII. MR. JEREMIAH'S NIGHT INTERVIEW WITH THE MAYOR UPON STATE AFFAIRS. 'Saints in heaven! is this the messenger of the last day?' screamed out a female voice, as the doorbell rang out a furious alarum--peal upon peal--under that able performer, Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger. She hastened to open the door; but, when she beheld a soldier in the state uniform, she assured him it was all over with him; for his worship was gone to bed; and, when _that_ was the case, he never allowed of any disturbance without making an example. 'Aye, but I come upon state business.' 'No matter,' said the old woman, 'it's all one: when his worship sleeps, business must sleep: that's the law, I'll assure you, and _has_ been any time since I can think on. He always commits, at the least.' 'Very likely; but I _must_ speak to him.' 'Well, then, take the consequences on yourself,' said she: 'recollect, you're a state soldier; you'll be brought to a court-martial; you'll be shot.' 'Ah! well: that's _my_ concern.' 'Mighty well,' said the old woman: 'one may as well speak to the wind. However, _I_'ll get out the way: _I_'ll not come near the hurricane. And don't you say, I didn't warn you.' So saying, she let him up to her master's bed-room door, and then trotted off as fast and as far as she could. At this moment Mr. Mayor, already wakened and discomposed by the violent tintinnabulation, rushed out: 'What!' said he, 'am I awake? Is it a guardsman that has this audacity?' 'No guardsman, Mr. Mayor,' said our hero; in whose face his worship was vainly poring with the lamp to spell out the features of some one amongst the twelve members of the state-guard; 'no guardsman, but a gentleman that was apprehended last night at the theatre.' 'Ah!' said the Mayor, trembling in every limb, 'a prisoner, and escaped? And perhaps has murdered the guard?--What would you have of me--me, a poor, helpless, unfortunate man?' And, at every word he spoke, he continued to step back towards a bell that lay upon the table.