At first, when the distemper began to lose somewhat of its malignancy, a few scared individuals appeared in the streets, but carefully shunned each other.  In a few days, however, considerable numbers joined them, and for the first time for nearly three months there was something like life abroad.  It is astonishing how soon hope and confidence are revived.  Now that it could no longer be doubted that the plague was on the decline, it seemed as if a miracle had been performed in favour of the city.  Houses were opened—­shopkeepers resumed their business—­and it was a marvel to every one that so many persons were left alive.  Dejection and despair of the darkest kind were succeeded by frenzied delight, and no bound was put to the public satisfaction.  Strangers stopped each other in the streets, and conversed together like old friends.  The bells, that had grown hoarse with tolling funerals, were now cracked with joyous peals.  The general joy extended even to the sick, and many, buoyed up by hope, recovered, when in the former season of despondency they would inevitably have perished.  All fear of the plague seemed to vanish with the flying disorder.  Those who were scarcely out of danger joined in the throng, and it was no uncommon sight to see men with bandages round their necks, or supported by staves and crutches, shaking hands with their friends, and even embracing them.

The consequence of this incautious conduct may be easily foreseen.  The plague had received too severe a check to burst forth anew; but it spread further than it otherwise would have done, and attacked many persons, who but for their own imprudence would have escaped.  Amongst others, a barber in Saint Martin’s-le-Grand, who had fled into the country in August, returned to his shop in the middle of October, and, catching the disorder from one of his customers, perished with the whole of his family.

But these, and several other equally fatal instances, produced no effect on the multitude.  Fully persuaded that the virulence of the disorder was exhausted—­as, indeed, appeared to be the case—­they gave free scope to their satisfaction, which was greater than was ever experienced by the inhabitants of a besieged city reduced by famine to the last strait of despair, and suddenly restored to freedom and plenty.  The more pious part of the community thronged to the churches, from which they had been so long absent, and returned thanks for their unexpected deliverance.  Others, who had been terrified into seriousness and devotion, speedily forgot their former terrors, and resumed their old habits.  Profaneness and debauchery again prevailed, and the taverns were as well filled as the churches.  Solomon Eagle continued his midnight courses through the streets; but he could no longer find an audience as before.  Those who listened to him only laughed at his denunciations of a new judgment, and told him his preachings and prophesyings were now completely out of date.