he air tainted
with noisome exhalations. Ever and anon, a window would be opened, and a
ghastly face thrust from it, while a piercing shriek, or lamentable cry,
was uttered. No business seemed going on--there were no passengers--no
vehicles in the streets. The mighty city was completely laid prostrate.

After a short rest, the young man shaped his course towards Saint
Paul's, and on reaching its western precincts, gazed for some time at
the reverend structure, as if its contemplation called up many and
painful recollections. Tears started to his eyes, and he was about to
turn away, when he perceived the figure of Solomon Eagle stationed near
the cross at the western extremity of the roof. The enthusiast caught
sight of him at the same moment, and motioned him to come nearer. "What
has happened?" he demanded, as the other approached the steps of the
portico.

The young man shook his head mournfully. "It is a sad tale," he said,
"and cannot be told now."

"I can conjecture what it is," replied Solomon Eagle. "But come to the
small door near the northern entrance of the cathedral at midnight. I
will meet you there."

"I will not fail," replied the young man.

"One of the terrible judgments which I predicted would befall this
devoted city has come to pass," cried Solomon Eagle. "Another yet
remains--the judgment by fire--and if its surviving inhabitants repent
not, of which there is as yet no sign, it will assuredly follow."

"Heaven avert it!" groaned the other, turning away.

Proceeding along Cheapside, he entered Wood-street, and took his way
towards the grocer's dwelling. When at a little distance from it, he
paused, and some minutes elapsed before he could muster strength to go
forward. Here, as elsewhere, there were abundant indications of the
havoc occasioned by the fell disease. Not far from the grocer's shop,
and in the middle of the street, lay the body of a man, with the face
turned upwards, while crouching in an angle of the wall sat a young
woman watching it. As the young man drew nearer, he recognised in the
dead man the principal of the Brotherhood of Saint Michael, and in the
poor mourner one of his profligate female associates. "What has become
of your unhappy companions?" he demanded of the woman.

"The last of them lies there," she rejoined mournfully. "All the rest
died long ago. My lover was true to his vow; and instead of deploring
their fate, lived with me and three other women in mirth and r