he end of Mark-lane, Lime-street, and Leadenhall, the
strong walls of which resisted its fury. Ascending again by the Standard
on Cornhill, Threadneedle-street, and Austin Friars, it embraced
Drapers' Hall, and the whole mass of buildings to the west of
Throgmorton-street. It next proceeded to the then new buildings behind
Saint Margaret's, Lothbury, and so on westward to the upper end of
Cateaton-street, whence it spread to the second postern in London Wall,
and destroying the ramparts and suburbs as far as Cripplegate, consumed
Little Wood-street, Mungwell-street, and the whole of the city wall on
the west as far as Aldersgate. Passing a little to the north of Saint
Sepulchre's, which it destroyed, it crossed Holborn Bridge, and
ascending Saint Andrew's-hill, passed the end of Shoe-lane, and so on to
the end of Fetter-lane. The whole of the buildings contained within this
boundary were now on fire, and burning with terrific fury. And so they
continued till the middle of Wednesday, when the wind abating, and an
immense quantity of houses being demolished according to Lord
Argentine's plan, the conflagration was got under; and though it broke
out in several places after that time, little mischief was done, and it
may be said to have ceased on the middle of that day.

On Saturday morning in that week, soon after daybreak, a young man,
plainly yet richly attired in the habiliments then worn by persons of
high rank, took his way over the smouldering heaps of rubbish, and along
the ranks of ruined and blackened walls denoting the habitations that
had once constituted Fleet-street. It was with no little risk, and some
difficulty, that he could force his way, now clambering over heaps of
smouldering ashes, now passing by some toppling wall, which fell with a
terrific crash after he had just passed it--now creeping under an
immense pile of blackened rafters; but he at length reached Fleet
Bridge, where he paused to gaze at the scene of devastation around him.

It was indeed a melancholy sight, and drew tears to his eyes. The
ravages of the fire were almost inconceivable. Great beams were burnt to
charcoal--stones calcined, and as white as snow, and such walls and
towers as were left standing were so damaged that their instant fall was
to be expected. The very water in the wells and fountains was boiling,
and even the muddy Fleet sent forth a hot steam. The fire still lingered
in the lower parts of many habitations, especially