One of those wandering fortune tellers, who had paraded the city so often during the early days of the plague (till the poor wretches were themselves carried off in great numbers by it), had passed down the street once or twice during the day, and had been always chanting a rude song like a dirge, in which many woes were said to be hanging over London town.
These prognostications had been frequent since the appearance in the sky of another comet, which had been seen on all clear nights of late.

It had considerably alarmed the citizens, who remembered the comet of the previous year, and the terrible visitation which had followed.

This one was not very like the former; it was far more bright, and burning, and red, and its motion appeared more rapid in the sky.

The soothsayers and astrologers, of which there were still plenty left, all averred that it bespoke some fresh calamity hanging over the city, and for a while there was considerable alarm in many minds, and some families actually left London, fearful that the plague would again break out there; but by this time the panic had well nigh died down.

The comet ceased to be seen in the sky, and even the mournful words of the fortune tellers did not attract the notice they had done at first.