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Around its roots; and while he thus surveys,
With elevated joy, each rural charm,

He hopes, yet fears presumption in the hope,
That Heaven may be one Sabbath without end.

Grahame.

LESSON XLI.

THE FIRE OF LONDON, 1666.

TAKEN FROM A DIARY WRITTEN AT THE TIME.

scaf'-folds, long poles put up
to which planks are fastened,
during the building or repair-
ing of a house or church
com-pu-ta'-tion, careful reck-
oning

gre-nades', like modern bombshells

com'-pa-ra-ble, fit to be compared im-pet'-u-ous, rushing furiously onward

1. 1666, September 2nd. This fatal night, about 10 o'clock, began that deplorable fire near Fish Street, in London. On the 3rd, the fire continuing, after dinner, I took coach, with my wife and son, and went to the bank side in Southwark, where we beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole city in dreadful flames near the water side; all the houses from the bridge, all Thames Street, and upwards towards Cheapside, were now consumed.

2. The fire having continued all this night-if I may call that night which was light as day—I went on foot to the same place, and saw the whole south part of the city burning from Cheapside to the Thames. The fire was now taking hold of Saint Paul's Church, to which the scaffolds contributed exceedingly.

3. The conflagration was so universal, and the people were so astonished, that, from the beginning,

I know not by what despondency or fate, they hardly stirred to quench it. There was nothing heard or seen but crying out and lamentation, and people running about like distracted creatures, without at all attempting to save their goods.

4. The sky was of a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the reflection from it seen about forty miles round. God grant my eyes may never behold the like again. I now saw above ten thousand houses all in one flame; the noise, and cracking, and thunder of the impetuous flames, the shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people, the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was like a hideous storm. The air around was so hot and inflamed that, at last, one was not able to approach it, so that the wretched people were forced to stand still, and let the flames burn on, which they did for near two miles in length and one in breadth.

5. The clouds of smoke were dismal, and reached upon computation nearly fifty miles in length. Thus I left it this afternoon burning, a resemblance of Sodom or the last day. London was, but is no

more !

6. September the 4th. The burning still rages, and most of the streets are now reduced to ashes. The stones of St. Paul's flew like grenades, the melting lead ran down the streets in a stream, and the very pavements glowed with a fiery redness, so that neither horse nor man were able to tread on them. The east wind, still more impetuous, drove the flames forward.

7. I was infinitely concerned to find that goodly church, St. Paul's, now a sad ruin, and that beautiful portico for structure comparable to any in Europe, and long before repaired by the late

[graphic]

THE MONUMENT ERECTED WHERE THE FIRE COMMENCED.

king—now rent in pieces, and nothing remaining entire but the inscription showing by whom it was built, and which had not one letter of it defaced. The ruins of the vaulted roof fell broken into

L

the church of St. Faith's, which was filled with stores of books belonging to the stationers. They had been carried there for safety, and were all consumed, burning for a week following.

8. I then went towards Islington and Highgate, where one might have seen two hundred thousand people, of all ranks and degrees, dispersed and lying along by their heaps of what they could save from the fire, deploring their loss. Though ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet they did not ask one penny for relief, which to me appeared a stranger sight than any I had yet beheld.

9. His Majesty and council indeed took all imaginable care for their relief, by proclamation for the country to come in and refresh them with provisions. I left them pretty quiet, and came home sufficiently weary and broken.

John Evelyn (abridged), 1620-1706.

John Evelyn, the writer of the diary from which this piece is taken was one of the first Englishmen who endeavoured to promote a taste for beautiful and scientific gardening. His grounds, near Deptford, in Kent, were much admired. Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia, who resided in England for a short time at the close of the 17th century, was tenant of Evelyn's mansion, and amused himself by trying to destroy a glorious hedge of holly by riding through it on a wheelbarrow!

The Fire of London.-The Monument of London, near London Bridge, marks the spot where this terrible fire commenced.

The Bridge-i.e., London Bridge. Thames Street runs on the north side of the Thames from London Bridge.

Southwark is on the opposite or south side of the river.

Saint Paul's Church-i.e., the Cathedral Church. The building was, as we here read, destroyed in this fire. It had been repaired by Charles the First. It seems to have been undergoing further repairs at the time. A new cathedral, designed by Sir Christopher Wren, now stands in its place. Its splendid dome is a prominent object, especially from the river.

Sodom.-See the account of the destruction by fire in Genesis xix. Islington and Highgate.—Then small villages on the north side of London, now a part of London.

His Majesty.--Charles the Second, who reigned from 1660 to 1685.

QUESTIONS.-In what year and month did the Great Fire of London take place? In what part of London did it commence ? What great church was burnt? Who wrote this diary? Who was the king at this period?

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1. Hast thou heard of a shell on the margin of ocean,
Whose pearly recesses the echoes still keep
Of the music it caught when, with tremulous motion,
It joined in the concert poured forth by the deep?

2. And fables have told us when far inland carried

To the waste sandy desert and dark ivied cave,
In its musical chambers some murmurs have tarried
It learnt long before of the wind and the wave.

3. Oh! thus should our spirits which bear many a token
They are not of earth, but are exiles while here,
Preserve in their banishment, pure and unbroken,
Somesweet treasured notes of their own native sphere.

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