e by any human efforts. So impressed were all
with this feeling, that when, in less than half an hour, the rain
entirely ceased, the clouds cleared off, and the stars again poured down
their lustre, no one attempted to relight the quenched embers, fearing
to provoke the Divine vengeance. Nor was a monitor wanting to enforce
the awful lesson. Solomon Eagle, with his brazier on his head, ran
through the streets, calling on the inhabitants to take to heart what
had happened, to repent, and prepare for their doom.

"The Lord will not spare you," he cried, as he stationed himself in the
open space before St. Stephen's, Walbrook. "He will visit your sins upon
you. Pray, therefore, that ye may not be destroyed, both body and soul.
Little time is allowed you for repentance. Many that hear me shall not
live till tomorrow; few shall survive the year!"

"Thou, thyself, shalt not survive the night, false prophet," cried a
voice from a neighbouring window. And immediately afterwards the barrel
of a gun was thrust forth and a shot fired at the enthusiast. But though
Solomon Eagle never altered his position, he was wholly uninjured--the
ball striking a bystander, who fell to the ground mortally wounded.

"You have shot your own son, Mr. Westwood," cried one of the spectators,
rushing up to the fallen man. "Who will henceforth doubt that Solomon
Eagle is under the care of a special providence?"

"Not I," replied another spectator. "I shall never disregard his words
in future."

Setting down his brazier, the enthusiast bent over the dead man--for
dead he was--and noted the placid smile upon his features. By this time
the unfortunate father had joined the group, and, on seeing the body of
his son, wrung his hands in a pitiable manner, and gave utterance to the
wildest expression of despair. No one attempted to seize him, till at
length Solomon Eagle, rising from his kneeling posture, laid his hand
upon his arm, and regarding him sternly, said, "What wrong have I done
you, that you should seek to slay me?"

"What wrong?" rejoined Westwood--"such wrong as can never be repaired.
Your fearful prophecies and denunciations so terrified my daughter, that
she died distracted. My brokenhearted wife was not long in following
her; and now you have made me the murderer of my son. Complete the
tragedy, and take my life."

"I have no desire to do so," replied Solomon Eagle, in a tone of
commiseration. "My wish is to save your soul, and the soul