ne of the arched openings, and falling
from a height of near sixty feet, was dashed in pieces on the flagged
floor beneath.

A walk through this mighty lazar-house would have furnished a wholesome
lesson to the most reckless observer. It seemed to contain all the sick
of the city. And yet it was not so. Hundreds were expiring in their own
dwellings, and the other pest-houses continued crowded as before. Still,
as a far greater number of the infected were here congregated, and could
be seen at one view, the picture was incomparably more impressive. Every
part of the cathedral was occupied. Those who could not find room inside
it crouched beneath the columns of the portico on rugs or blankets, and
implored the chirurgeons as they passed to attend them. Want of room
also drove others into Saint Faith's, and here the scene was, if
possible, more hideous. In this dismal region it was found impossible to
obtain a free circulation of air, and consequently the pestilential
effluvia, unable to escape, acquired such malignancy, that it was almost
certain destruction to inhale it. After a time, few of the nurses and
attendants would venture thither; and to take a patient to Saint Faith's
was considered tantamount to consigning him to the grave.

Whether Judith Malmayns had succeeded or not in curing Sir Paul
Parravicin, it is not our present purpose to relate. Soon after the
cathedral was converted into a lazar-house she returned thither, and, in
spite of the opposition of Doctor Hodges, was appointed one of the
nurses. It must not be supposed that her appointment was the result of
any ill design. Such was the difficulty of obtaining attendance, that
little choice was left, and the nurses being all of questionable
character, it was supposed she was only a shade worse than her fellows,
while she was known to be active and courageous. And this was speedily
proved; for when Saint Faith's was deserted by the others, she remained
at her post, and quitted it neither night nor day. A large pit was
digged in the open space at the north-east corner of the cathedral, and
to this great numbers of bodies were nightly conveyed by Chowles and
Jonas. But it was soon filled, and they were compelled to resort, as
before, to Finsbury Fields, and to another vast pit near Aldgate. When
not engaged in this revolting employment, Chowles took up his quarters
in the crypt, where, in spite of his propinquity to the sick, he
indulged himself in his custom