all the houses on the west of Dowgate Dock to be instantly demolished.  A large body of men were therefore set upon this difficult and dangerous, and, as it proved, futile task.  Another party were ordered to the same duty on Dowgate-hill; and the crash of tumbling walls and beams was soon added to the general uproar, while clouds of dust darkened the air.  It was with some difficulty that a sufficient space could be kept clear for carrying these operations into effect; and long before they were half-completed, Charles had the mortification of finding the fire gaining ground so rapidly, that they must prove ineffectual.  Word was brought at this juncture that a fresh fire had broken out in Elbow-lane, and while the monarch was listening to this dreary intelligence, a fearful cry was heard near the river, followed, the next moment, by a tumultuous rush of persons from that quarter.  The fire, as if in scorn, had leapt across Dowgate Dock, and seizing upon the half-demolished houses, instantly made them its prey.  The rapidity with which the conflagration proceeded was astounding, and completely baffled all attempts to check it.  The wind continued blowing as furiously as ever, nor was there the slightest prospect of its abatement.  All the king’s better qualities were called into play by the present terrible crisis.  With a courage and devotion that he seldom displayed, he exposed himself to the greatest risk, personally assisting at all the operations he commanded; while his humane attention to the sufferers by the calamity almost reconciled them to their deplorable situation.  His movements were almost as rapid as those of the fire itself.  Riding up Cannon-street, and from thence by Sweeting’s-lane, to Lombard-street, and so on by Fenchurch-street to Tower-street, he issued directions all the way, checking every disturbance, and causing a band of depredators, who had broken into the house of a wealthy goldsmith, to be carried off to Newgate.  Arrived in Tower-street, he found the Earl of Craven and his party stationed a little beyond Saint Dunstan’s in the East.

All immediate apprehensions in this quarter appeared at an end.  The church had been destroyed, as before mentioned, but several houses in its vicinity having been demolished, the fire had not extended eastward.  Satisfied that the Tower was in no immediate danger, the king retraced his course, and encountering the lord mayor in Lombard-street, sharply reproved him for his want of zeal and discretion.

“I do not deserve your majesty’s reproaches,” replied the lord mayor.  “Ever since the fire broke out I have not rested an instant, and am almost worn to death with anxiety and fatigue.  I am just returned from Guildhall, where a vast quantity of plate belonging to the city companies has been deposited.  Lord!  Lord! what a fire this is!”

“You are chiefly to blame for its getting so much ahead,” replied the king, angrily.  “Had you adopted vigorous measures at the outset, it might have easily been got under.  I hear no water was to be obtained.  How was that?”