a letter to my Lord from thence.  In Cheapside there was a great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells in all the churches as we went home were a-ringing.  Hence we went homewards, it being about ten o’clock.  But the common joy that was every where to be seen!  The number of bonfires, there being fourteen between St. Dunstan’s and Temple Bar, and at Strand Bridge’ I could at one view tell thirty-one fires.  In King-street seven or eight; and all along burning, and roasting, and drinking for rumps.  There being rumps tied upon sticks and carried up and down.  The butchers at the May Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their knives when they were going to sacrifice their rump.  On Ludgate Hill there was one turning of the spit that had a rump tied upon it, and another basting of it.  Indeed it was past imagination, both the greatness and the suddenness of it.  At one end of the street you would think there was a whole lane of fire, and so hot that we were fain to keep still on the further side merely for heat.  We came to the Chequers at Charing Cross, where Chetwind wrote a letter and I gave him an account of what I had wrote for him to write.  Thence home and sent my letters to the posthouse in London, and my wife and I (after Mr. Hunt was gone, whom I found waiting at my house) went out again to show her the fires, and after walking as far as the Exchange we returned and to bed.

12th.  In the morning, it being Lord’s day, Mr. Pierce came to me to enquire how things go.  We drank our morning draft together and thence to White Hall, where Dr. Hones preached; but I staid not to hear, but walking in the court, I heard that Sir Arth.  Haselrigge was newly gone into the City to Monk, and that Monk’s wife removed from White Hall last night.  Home again, where at noon came according to my invitation my cos.  Thos.  Pepys and his partner and dined with me, but before dinner we went and took a walk round the park, it being a most pleasant day as ever I saw.  After dinner we three went into London together, where I heard that Monk had been at Paul’s in the morning, and the people had shouted much at his coming out of the church.  In the afternoon he was at a church in Broad-street, whereabout he do lodge.  But not knowing how to see him we went and walked half a hour in Moorfields, which were full of people, it being so fine a day.  Here I took leave of them, and so to Paul’s, where I met with Mr. Kirton’s’ apprentice (the crooked fellow) and walked up and down with him two hours, sometimes in the street looking for a tavern to drink in, but not finding any open, we durst not knock; other times in the churchyard, where one told me that he had seen the letter printed.  Thence to Mr. Turner’s, where I found my wife, Mr. Edw.  Pepys, and Roger’ and Mr. Armiger being there, to whom I gave as good an account of things as I could, and so to my father’s, where Charles Glascocke was overjoyed to see how things are now; who told me the boys had last night broke Barebone’s windows.  Hence home, and being near home we missed our maid, and were at a great loss and went back a great way to find her, but when we could not see her we went homewards and found her there, got before us which we wondered at greatly.  So to bed, where my wife and I had some high words upon my telling her that I would fling the dog which her brother gave her out of window if he [dirtied] the house any more.