Not a carriage of any description, save the dead-cart, is to be seen in the broadest streets of London, which are now as green as the fields without her walls, and as silent as the grave itself.

Terrible times, as I said before--terrible times! The dead are rotting in heaps in the courts, in the alleys, in the very houses, and no one to remove them.

What will be the end of it all?
What will become of this great city ?" "It is not difficult to foresee what will become of it," replied Leonard, "unless it pleases the Lord to stay his vengeful arm.

And something whispers in my ear that we are now at the worst.

The scourge cannot exceed its present violence without working our ruin; and deeply as we have sinned, little as we repent, I cannot bring myself to believe that God will sweep his people entirely from the face of the earth." "I dare not hope otherwise," rejoined Rainbird, "though I would fain do so.