of the occurrence, the apprentice could not help laughing at the unwonted agility displayed by the fat little porter, who ran so swiftly that it appeared probable he would distance his pursuer.  To prevent mischief, however, Leonard set off after him, and was fast gaining upon the lazar, whose strength was evidently failing, when the poor wretch uttered a loud cry, and fell to the ground.  On coming up, Leonard found him lying with his face in the grass, and convulsed by the agonies of death, and perceiving that all was over, hurried after the porter, whom he found seated on a gate, at the further end of the field, solacing himself with a draught of plague-water.

“Oh, Leonard!” groaned the latter, “how little do we know what is for our good!  I was delighted to quit my master’s house this morning, but I now wish with, all my heart I was back again.  I am afraid I shall die of the plague after all.  Pray what are the first symptoms?”

“Pooh! pooh! don’t think about it, and you will take no harm,” rejoined Leonard.  “Put by your phial, and let us make the best of our way to Farmer Wingfield’s dwelling.”

Being now in sight of the farm, which, from its elevated situation, could be distinguished at a distance of two miles in this direction, they easily shaped their course towards it across the fields.  When about halfway up the hill, Leonard paused to look behind him.  The view was exquisite, and it was precisely the hour (just before sunset) at which it could be seen to the greatest advantage.  On the right, his gaze wandered to the beautiful and well-wooded heights of Richmond and Wimbledon, beyond which he could trace the long line of the Surrey hills, while nearer he perceived Notting Hill, now covered with habitations, but then a verdant knoll, crowned by a few trees, but without so much as a cottage upon it.  On the left stood Hampstead; at that time a collection of pretty cottages, but wanting its present chief ornament, the church.  At the foot of the hill rich meadows, bordered with fine hedges, interspersed with well-grown timber, spread out as far as the eye could reach.  Nothing destroyed the rural character of the prospect; nor was there any indication of the neighbourhood of a great city, except the lofty tower and massive body of Saint Paul’s, which appeared above the tops of the intervening trees in the distance.

As on former occasions, when contemplating the surrounding country from the summit of the cathedral, Leonard could not help contrasting the beauty of the scene before him with the horrible scourge by which it was ravaged.  Never had the country looked so beautiful—­never, therefore, was the contrast so forcible; and it appeared to him like a lovely mask hiding the hideous and ghastly features of death.  Tinged by the sombre hue of his thoughts, the whole scene changed its complexion.  The smiling landscape seemed to darken, and the cool air of evening to become hot and noisome, as if laden