nd the hinges of
strong doors. Goods stored away in cellars and subterranean passages of
warehouses yet smouldered, emitting foul odours; wells were completely
choked, fountains were dried at their sources. The statues of monarchs
which had adorned the Exchange, were smashed; that of its founder, Sir
Thomas Gresham, alone remaining entire. The ruins of St. Paul's, with
its walls standing black and cheerless, presented in itself a most
melancholy spectacle. Its pillars were embedded in ashes, its cornices
irretrievably destroyed, its great bell reduced to a shapeless mass of
metal; whilst its general air of desolation was heightened by the fact
that a few monuments, which had escaped destruction, rose abruptly from
amidst the charred DEBRIS.

But if the ruins of the capital looked sad by day, their appearance was
more appalling when seen by light of the moon, which rose nightly during
the week following this great calamity. From the city gates, standing
gaunt, black, and now unguarded, to the Temple, the level waste seemed
sombre as a funeral pall; whilst the Thames, stripped of wharves and
warehouses, quaintly gabled homes, and comfortable inns--wont to cast
pleasant lights and shadows on its surface--now swept past the blackened
ruins a melancholy river of white waters.

In St. George's Fields, Moorfields, and far as Highgate for several
miles, citizens of all degrees, to the number of two hundred thousand,
had gathered: sleeping in the open fields, or under canvas tents, or in
wooden sheds which they hurriedly erected. Some there were amongst them
who had been used to comfort and luxury, but who were now without bed or
board, or aught to cover them save the clothes in which they had hastily
dressed when fleeing from the fire. And to many it seemed as if they had
only been saved from one calamity to die by another: for they had
nought wherewith to satisfy their hunger, yet had too much pride to seek
relief.

And whilst yet wildly distracted by their miserable situation, weary
from exhaustion, and nervous from lack of repose, a panic arose in their
midst which added much to their distress. For suddenly news was spread
that the French, Dutch and English papists were marching on them,
prepared to cut their throats. At which, broken-spirited as they were,
they rose up, and leaving such goods that they had saved, rushed towards
Westminster to seek protection from their imaginary foes. On this,
the king sought to prove th