on the 1st day
of February 1524, the waters of the Thames would swell to such a height as
to overflow the whole city of London, and wash away ten thousand houses.
The prophecy met implicit belief. It was reiterated with the utmost
confidence month after month, until so much alarm was excited that many
families packed up their goods, and removed into Kent and Essex. As the
time drew nigh, the number of these emigrants increased. In January,
droves of workmen might be seen, followed by their wives and children,
trudging on foot to the villages within fifteen or twenty miles, to await
the catastrophe. People of a higher class were also to be seen in wagons
and other vehicles bound on a similar errand. By the middle of January, at
least twenty thousand persons had quitted the doomed city, leaving nothing
but the bare walls of their homes to be swept away by the impending
floods. Many of the richer sort took up their abode on the heights of
Highgate, Hampstead, and Blackheath; and some erected tents as far away as
Waltham Abbey on the north, and Croydon on the south of the Thames.
Bolton, the prior of St. Bartholomew's, was so alarmed, that he erected,
at a very great expense, a sort of fortress at Harrow-on-the-Hill, which
he stocked with provisions for two months. On the 24th of January, a week
before the awful day which was to see the destruction of London, he
removed thither, with the brethren and officers of the priory and all his
household. A number of boats were conveyed in wagons to his fortress,
furnished abundantly with expert rowers, in case the flood, reaching so
high as Harrow, should force them to go farther for a resting-place. Many
wealthy citizens prayed to share his retreat; but the prior, with a
prudent forethought, admitted only his personal friends, and those who
brought stores of eatables for the blockade.

At last the morn, big with the fate of London, appeared in the east. The
wondering crowds were astir at an early hour to watch the rising of the
waters. The inundation, it was predicted, would be gradual, not sudden; so
that they expected to have plenty of time to escape as soon as they saw
the bosom of old Thames heave beyond the usual mark. But the majority were
too much alarmed to trust to this, and thought themselves safer ten or
twenty miles off. The Thames, unmindful of the foolish crowds upon its
banks, flowed on quietly as of yore. The tide ebbed at its usual hour,
flowed to its usual height,