flames seized upon their prey.

"I told you," he cried, "that the extortioners and usurers who resorted
to that building, and made gold their god, would be driven forth, and
their temple destroyed. And my words have come to pass. It burns--it
burns--and so shall they, if they turn not from their ways."

Hearing this wild speech, and beholding the extraordinary figure of the
enthusiast, whose scorched locks and smoke-begrimed limbs gave him
almost the appearance of an infernal spirit, the king inquired, with
some trepidation, from his attendants, who or what he was, and being
informed, ordered them to seize him. But the enthusiast set their
attempts at naught. Springing with wonderful agility from fragment to
fragment of the ruins, and continuing his vociferations, he at last
plunged through the flame into the Exchange itself, rendering further
pursuit, of course, impossible, unless those who desired to capture him,
were determined to share his fate, which now seemed inevitable. To the
astonishment of all, however, he appeared a few minutes afterwards on
the roof of the blazing pile, and continued his denunciations till
driven away by the flames. He seemed, indeed, to bear a charmed life,
for it was rumoured--though the report was scarcely credited--that he
had escaped from the burning building, and made good his retreat to
Saint Paul's. Soon after this, the Exchange was one mass of flame.
Having gained an entrance to the galleries, the fire ran round them with
inconceivable swiftness, as was the case in the conflagration of this
later structure, and filling every chamber, gushed out of the windows,
and poured down upon the courts and walks below. Fearful and prodigious
was the ruin that ensued. The stone walls cracked with the intense
heat--tottered and fell--the pillars shivered and broke asunder, the
statues dropped from their niches, and were destroyed, one only
surviving the wreck--that of the illustrious founder, Sir Thomas
Gresham.

Deploring the fate of the Royal Exchange, the king and his attendants
proceeded to Guildhall. But here they were too late, nor could they even
rescue a tithe of the plate and valuables lodged within it for security.
The effects of the fire as displayed in this structure, were singularly
grand and surprising. The greater part of the ancient fabric being
composed of oak of the hardest kind, it emitted little flame, but became
after a time red hot, and remained in this glowing state til