Ever since the plague had broken out in Drury-lane, it haunted him like a spectre, and scattered the few faculties he possessed.

In vain he tried to combat his alarm--in vain his mother endeavoured to laugh him out of it.

Nothing would do.

He read the bills of mortality daily; ascertained the particulars of every case; dilated upon the agonies of the sufferers; watched the progress of the infection, and calculated the time it would take to reach Wood-street.

He talked of the pestilence by day, and dreamed of it at night; and more than once alarmed the house by roaring for assistance, under the idea that he was suddenly attacked.