Late as was the hour, the Thames seemed alive with wherries and
barges, and their numerous lights danced along the surface like
fire-flies over a marsh. A gay barge, gilded and cushioned, was
going slowly past; and as he stood directly under the lamp, he
was recognized by a gentleman within it, who leaned over and
hailed him
"Ormiston! I say, Ormiston!"
"Well, my lord," said Ormiston, recognizing the handsome face and
animated voice of the Earl of Rochester.
"Have you any engagement for the next half-hour? If not, do me
the favor to take a seat here, and watch London in flames from
the river."
"With all my heart," said Ormiston, running down to the water's
edge, and leaping into the boat. "With all this bustle of life
around here, one would think it were noonday instead of
midnight."
"The whole city is astir about these fires. Have you any idea
they will be successful?"
"Not the least. You know, my lord, the prediction runs, that the
plague will rage till the living are no longer able to bury the
dead."
"It will soon come to that," said the earl shuddering slightly,
"if it continues increasing much longer as it does now daily.
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