The same night, however, she brought another man, named Allestry, who took the place of the late porter, and acquainted his employer with the deplorable state of the city.
Two days afterwards, Allestry himself died, and Mr.Bloundel had no one to replace him.

He thus lost all means of ascertaining what was going forward; but the deathlike stillness around him, broken only by the hoarse tolling of a bell, by a wild shriek or other appalling cry, proclaimed too surely the terrible state of things.

Sometimes, too, a passenger would go by, and would tell him the dreadful height to which the bills of mortality had risen, assuring him that ere another month had expired, not a soul would be left alive in London.
One night, as Solomon Eagle, who had likewise been miraculously preserved, pursued his course through the streets, he paused before Mr.
Roundel's house, and looking up at the window, at which the latter had chanced to be stationed, cried in a loud voice, "Be of good cheer.

You have served God faithfully, and there shall no evil befall you, neither shall the plague come nigh your dwelling." And raising his arms, as if invoking a blessing upon the habitation, he departed.
It was now the second week in September, and as yet Mr.Bloundel had received no tidings of his daughter.

At any other season he would have been seriously uneasy, but now, as has been already stated, all private grief was swallowed up in the horror of the general calamity.