Accordingly I declined seeing the substitute, and dismissed the Serjeant with a note to the War-Secretary to this purport:--“That I considered myself _drawn_; and expected therefore to be well _quarter’d_. That, under the circumstances of the country, it would probably be unnecessary for militia-men ‘to be mustarded;’ but that if his Majesty did ‘_call me out_,’ I hoped I should ‘_give him satisfaction_.’” The females were far from being pleased with this billet. They talked a great deal of moral suicide, wilful murder, and seeking the bubble reputation in the cannon’s mouth; but I shall ever think that I took the proper course, for, after the lapse of a few hours, two more of the General’s red-coats, or General postmen, brought me a large packet sealed with the War-office Seal, and superscribed “Henry Hardinge;” by which I was officially absolved from serving on Horse, or on Foot, or on both together, then and thereafter. And why, I know not--unless his Majesty doubted the handsomeness of discharging me in particular, without letting off the rest;--but so it was, that in a short time afterwards there issued a proclamation, by which the services of all militia-men were for the present dispensed with,--and we were left to pursue our several avocations,--of course, all the lighter in our _spirits_ for being _disembodied_. [Illustration: SHARP, FLAT, AND NATURAL.] ODE FOR ST. CECILIA’S EVE. “Look out for squalls.”--THE PILOT. O come, dear Barney Isaacs, come, Punch for one night can spare his drum As well as Pipes of Pan! Forget not, Popkins, your bassoon, Nor, Mister Bray, your horn, as soon As you can leave the Van; Blind Billy, bring your violin; Miss Crow, you’re great in Cherry Ripe! And Chubb, your viol must drop in It’s bass to Soger Tommy’s pipe. Ye butchers, bring your bones: An organ would not be amiss; If grinding Jim has spouted his, Lend yours, good Mister Jones. Do, hurdy-gurdy Jenny,--do Keep sober for an hour or two, Music’s charms to help to paint. And, Sandy Gray, if you should not Your bagpipes bring--O tuneful Scot! Conceive the feelings of the Saint!