and to writing of
letters--hard, and then at night home, and fell to my Tangier papers
till late, and then to bed, in some ease of mind that Will is gone
to his lodging, and that he is likely to do well, it being only the
headake.

30th (Lord's day). Up, and in my night gowne, cap and neckcloth,
undressed all day long, lost not a minute, but in my chamber, setting
my Tangier accounts to rights. Which I did by night to my very heart's
content, not only that it is done, but I find every thing right, and
even beyond what, after so long neglecting them, I did hope for. The
Lord of Heaven be praised for it! Will was with me to-day, and is very
well again. It was a sad noise to hear our bell to toll and ring so
often to-day, either for deaths or burials; I think five or six times.
At night weary with my day's work, but full of joy at my having done
it, I to bed, being to rise betimes tomorrow to go to the wedding at
Dagenhams. So to bed, fearing I have got some cold sitting in my loose
garments all this day.

31st. Up, and very betimes by six o'clock at Deptford, and there find
Sir G. Carteret, and my Lady ready to go: I being in my new coloured
silk suit, and coat trimmed with gold buttons and gold broad lace round
my hands, very rich and fine. By water to the Ferry, where, when we
come, no coach there; and tide of ebb so far spent as the horse-boat
could not get off on the other side the river to bring away the coach.
So we were fain to stay there in the unlucky Isle of Doggs, in a chill
place, the morning cool, and wind fresh, above two if not three hours to
our great discontent. Yet being upon a pleasant errand, and seeing that
it could not be helped, we did bear it very patiently; and it was worth
my observing, I thought, as ever any thing, to see how upon these two
scores, Sir G. Carteret, the most passionate man in the world, and that
was in greatest haste to be gone, did bear with it, and very pleasant
all the while, at least not troubled much so as to fret and storm at it.
Anon the coach comes: in the mean time there coming a News thither
with his horse to go over, that told us he did come from Islington this
morning; and that Proctor the vintner of the Miter in Wood-street, and
his son, are dead this morning there, of the plague; he having laid out
abundance of money there, and was the greatest vintner for some time in
London for great entertainments. We, fearing the canonicall hour would
be past before we got thi