where wine, spirits,
or inflammable goods had been kept; and these "voragos of subterranean
cellars," as Evelyn terms them, still emitted flames, together with a
prodigious smoke and stench. Undismayed by the dangers of the path he
had to traverse, the young man ascended Ludgate-hill, still encountering
the same devastation, and passing through the ruined gateway, the end of
which remained perfect, approached what had once been Saint Paul's
Cathedral. Mounting a heap of rubbish at the end of Ludgate street, he
gazed at the mighty ruin, which looked more like the remains of a city
than those of a single edifice.

The solid walls and buttresses were split and rent asunder; enormous
stones were splintered and calcined by the heat; and vast flakes having
scaled from off the pillars, gave them a hoary and almost ghostly
appearance. Its enormous extent was now for the first time clearly seen,
and, strange to say it looked twice as large in ruins as when entire.
The central tower was still standing, but chipped, broken, and calcined,
like the rest of the structure, by the vehement heat of the flames. Part
of the roof, in its fall, broke through the solid floor of the choir,
which was of immense thickness, into Saint Faith's, and destroyed the
magazine of books and paper deposited there by the booksellers. The
portico, erected by Inigo Jones, and which found so much favour in
Evelyn's eyes, that he describes it as "comparable to any in Europe,"
and particularly deplores its loss, shared the fate of the rest of the
building--the only part left uninjured being the architrave, the
inscription on which was undefaced.

Having satiated himself with this sad but striking prospect, the young
man, with some toil and trouble, crossed the churchyard, and gained
Cheapside, where a yet more terrific scene of devastation than that
which he had previously witnessed burst upon him. On the right of London
Bridge, which he could discern through the chasms of the houses, and
almost to the Tower, were nothing but ruins, while a similar waste lay
on the left. Such was the terrible change that had been wrought in the
aspect of the ruined city, that if the young man had not had some marks
to guide him, he would not have known where he was. The tower and ruined
walls of Saint Peter's Church pointed out to him the entrance to
Wood-street, and, entering it, he traversed it with considerable
difficulty--for the narrow thoroughfares were much fuller of r