f the notable Star in _Cassiopeiea_
betokened the universal End. And as for Angels, he sayd they were,
questionless, ministering Spiritts, not onlie sent forth to minister unto
the Heirs of Salvation, but sometimes Instruments of God's Wrath, to
execute Judgments upon ungodly Men, and convince them of the ill Deeds
which they have ungodly committed; as during the Pestilence in _David's_
Time, when the King saw the Destroying Angel standing between Heaven and
Earth, having a drawn Sword in his Hand, stretched over Jerusalem. Such
Delegates we might, without Fanaticism, suppose to be the generall,
though unseen. Instruments of public Chastisements; and, for our
particular Comfort, we had equall Reason to repose on the Assurance, that
even amid the Pestilence that walked in Darkness, and the Destruction
that wasted by Noon-day, the Angels had charge over each particular
Believer, to keep them in all their Ways. Adding, that, though he
forbore, with _Calvin_, to pronounce that each Man had his own Guardian
Spiritt,--a Subject whereon Scripture was silent,--we had the Lord's own
Word for it, that little Children were the particular Care of holy Angels.

And this, and othermuch to same Purport, had soe soothing and sedative an
Effect, that we might have gone to Bed in peacefull Trust, onlie that Dr.
_Paget_ must needs bring up, after Supper, the correlative Theme of the
great _Florentine_ Plague, and the poisoned Wells, which sett Father off
upon the Acts of Mercy of Cardinal _Borromeo,--_not him called St.
_Charlest_ but the Cardinal-Archbishop,--and soe, to the Pestilence at
_Geneva_, when even the Bars and Locks of Doors were poisoned by a Gang
of Wretches, who thought to pillage the Dwellings of the Dead; till we
all went to Bed, moped to Death.

Howbeit, I had been warmly asleep some Hours, (more by Token I had read
the ninety-first Psalm before getting into Bed), when _Anne_, clinging to
me, woke me up with a shrill Cry. I whispered fearfullie, "What is't?--a
Thief under the Bed?"

"No, no," she replies. "Listen!"

Soe I did for a While; and was just going to say, "You were dreaming,"
when a hollow Voice in the Street, beneath our Window, distinctlie
proclaimed,

"Yet forty Days, and _London_ shall be destroyed! I will overturn,
overturn, overturn it! Oh! Woe, Woe, Woe!"

I sprang out of Bed, fell over my Shoes, got up again, and ran to the
Window. There was Nothing to be seen but long, black Shadows in