then passed on towards Smithfield.  Watching its progress with fearful curiosity, the young man noted how often it paused to increase its load.  His thoughts, coloured by the scene, were of the saddest and dreariest complexion.  All around wore the aspect of death.  The few figures in sight seemed staggering towards the grave, and the houses appeared to be plague-stricken like the inhabitants.  The heat was intolerably oppressive, and the air tainted with noisome exhalations.  Ever and anon, a window would be opened, and a ghastly face thrust from it, while a piercing shriek, or lamentable cry, was uttered.  No business seemed going on—­there were no passengers—­no vehicles in the streets.  The mighty city was completely laid prostrate.

After a short rest, the young man shaped his course towards Saint Paul’s, and on reaching its western precincts, gazed for some time at the reverend structure, as if its contemplation called up many and painful recollections.  Tears started to his eyes, and he was about to turn away, when he perceived the figure of Solomon Eagle stationed near the cross at the western extremity of the roof.  The enthusiast caught sight of him at the same moment, and motioned him to come nearer.  “What has happened?” he demanded, as the other approached the steps of the portico.

The young man shook his head mournfully.  “It is a sad tale,” he said, “and cannot be told now.”

“I can conjecture what it is,” replied Solomon Eagle.  “But come to the small door near the northern entrance of the cathedral at midnight.  I will meet you there.”

“I will not fail,” replied the young man.

“One of the terrible judgments which I predicted would befall this devoted city has come to pass,” cried Solomon Eagle.  “Another yet remains—­the judgment by fire—­and if its surviving inhabitants repent not, of which there is as yet no sign, it will assuredly follow.”

“Heaven avert it!” groaned the other, turning away.

Proceeding along Cheapside, he entered Wood-street, and took his way towards the grocer’s dwelling.  When at a little distance from it, he paused, and some minutes elapsed before he could muster strength to go forward.  Here, as elsewhere, there were abundant indications of the havoc occasioned by the fell disease.  Not far from the grocer’s shop, and in the middle of the street, lay the body of a man, with the face turned upwards, while crouching in an angle of the wall sat a young woman watching it.  As the young man drew nearer, he recognised in the dead man the principal of the Brotherhood of Saint Michael, and in the poor mourner one of his profligate female associates.  “What has become of your unhappy companions?” he demanded of the woman.

“The last of them lies there,” she rejoined mournfully.  “All the rest died long ago.  My lover was true to his vow; and instead of deploring their fate, lived with me and three other women in mirth and revelry till yesterday, when the three women died, and he fell sick.  He did not, however, give in, but continued carousing until an hour before his death.”