hing the summit of the tower, which they found occupied by some
dozen or twenty persons, a spectacle that far exceeded the utmost
stretch of their imaginations burst upon them. Through clouds of tawny
smoke scarcely distinguishable from flame, so thickly were they charged
with sparks and fire-flakes, they beheld a line of fire spreading along
Cheapside and Cornhill, as far as the Royal Exchange, which was now in
flames, and branching upwards in another line through Lawrence-lane to
Guildhall, which was likewise burning. Nearer to them, on the north, the
fire kindled by the wretched Pillichody, who only, perhaps, anticipated
the work of destruction by a few hours, had, as they had heard,
proceeded to Goldsmiths' Hall, and was rapidly advancing down Saint
Ann's-lane to Aldersgate. But it was on the right, and to the
south-east, that the conflagration assumed its most terrific aspect.
There, from Bow Church to the river-side, beyond the bridge as far as
Billingsgate, and from thence up Mincing-lane, crossing Fenchurch-street
and Lime-street to Gracechurch and Cornhill, describing a space of more
than two miles in length and one in depth, every habitation was on fire.
The appearance of this bed of flame was like an ocean of fire agitated
by a tempest, in which a number of barks were struggling, some of them
being each moment engulfed. The stunning and unearthly roar of the
flames aided this appearance, which was further heightened by the
enormous billows of flame that ever and anon rolled tumultuously onward
as they were caught by some gust of wind of more than usual violence.
The spires of the churches looked like the spars of "tall admirals,"
that had foundered, while the blackening ruins of the halls and larger
buildings well represented the ribs and beams of mighty hulks.

Leaving Leonard and his companions to the contemplation of this
tremendous spectacle, we shall proceed to take a nearer view of its
ravages. Every effort had been used to preserve the Royal Exchange by
the city authorities, and by the engineers, headed by the king in
person. All the buildings in its vicinity were demolished. But in vain.
The irresistible and unrelenting foe drove the defenders back as before,
seized upon their barricades, and used them, like a skilful besieger,
against the fortress they sought to protect. Solomon Eagle, who was
mounted upon a heap of ruins, witnessed this scene of destruction, and
uttered a laugh of exultation as the