shops were
already opened, and there were a few carts and other vehicles tracking
their way through the broad and yet grass-grown street. It was a clear,
frosty morning, and there was a healthful feel in the bracing atmosphere
that produced an exhilarating effect on the spirits. The grocer pursued
his course through the middle of the street, carefully avoiding all
contact with such persons as he encountered, though he cordially
returned their greetings, and wandered on, scarcely knowing whither he
was going, but deeply interested in all he beheld.

The aspect of the city was indeed most curious. The houses were for the
most part unoccupied--the streets overgrown with grass--while every
object, animate and inanimate, bore some marks of the recent visitation.
Still, all looked hopeful, and the grocer could not doubt that the worst
was past. The different demeanour of the various individuals he met
struck him. Now he passed a young man whistling cheerily, who saluted
him, and said, "I have lost my sweetheart by the plague, but I shall
soon get another." The next was a grave man, who muttered, "I have lost
all," and walked pensively on. Then came others in different moods; but
all concurred in thinking that the plague was at an end; and the grocer
derived additional confirmation of the fact from meeting numerous carts
and other vehicles bringing families back to their houses from the
country.

After roaming about for several hours, and pondering on all he saw, he
found himself before the great western entrance of Saint Paul's. It
chanced to be the morning on which the pallets and bedding were brought
forth, and he watched the proceeding at a distance. All had been
removed, and he was about to depart, when he perceived a person seated
on a block of stone, not far from him, whom he instantly recognised.
"Leonard," he cried--"Leonard Holt, is it you?"

Thus addressed, and in these familiar tones, the apprentice looked up,
and Mr. Bloundel started at the change that had taken place in him.
Profound grief was written in every line of his thin and haggard
countenance; his eyes were hollow, and had the most melancholy
expression imaginable; and his flesh was wasted away from the bone. He
looked the very image of hopeless affliction.

"I am sorry to find you in this state, Leonard," said the grocer, in a
tone of deep commiseration; "but I am well aware of the cause. I myself
have suffered severely; but I deem it my duty to cont