About nine o'clock on the night of Saturday, the second of September, 1666 -- and rather more than nine months after the incidents last related, -- three men took their way from Smithfield to Islington. They proceeded at a swift pace and in silence, until, having mounted the steep hill on which the suburb in question is situated, they halted at a short distance from the high walls surrounding the great water-works formed by the New-River-head. The night was dark, but free from cloud, in consequence of a strong easterly wind which prevailed at the time.

"It is dark in London now," observed one of the three persons to his companions as he cast his eye in the direction of the great city, that lay buried in gloom beneath them; "but there will be light enough soon."

"A second dawn, and brighter than the first, shall arise upon it," replied one of his companions, a tall, gaunt man, whose sole covering was a sheepskin, girded round his loins. "Such a flame shall be kindled within it, as hath not been seen since showers of brimstone and fire descended upon the sinful cities of the plain. 'The Lord shall come with flames of fire,'" he added, pointing his long staff towards the city. "'He shall make them like a fiery oven, in the time of his wrath. They shall be utterly consumed.'"

"Amen!" exclaimed the third person, who stood near him, in a deep voice, and with something of a foreign accent.

"Not so loud, friends," rejoined the first speaker. "Let us set about the task. I will ascertain that no one is on the watch."

With this he moved towards the water-works, and skirting the circular walls, to satisfy himself that all was secure, he returned to his companions, and they proceeded to the principal entrance to the place. Noiselessly unlocking the gates, the leader of the party admitted the others into an open space of some extent, in the midst of which was a large reservoir of water. He then gave each of them a small key, and bidding them use despatch, they began to turn the cocks of the leaden pipes connected with the reservoir, while he hastened to the further end of the inclosure, and employed himself in a similar manner. In this way, and in less than a quarter of an hour, the whole of the cocks were stopped.

"And now give me the keys," said the leader.

Taking them as they were offered, he added his own to the number, and flung them as far as he could into the reservoir, laughing slightly as the noise of the splash occasioned by their fall into the water reached the ears.

"They will not be found till this pool is drained," he observed to his companions. "And now let us go. Our business here is done."

"Stay yet a moment," cried Solomon Eagle, who was standing at the brink of the reservoir, with his eyes fixed upon it. "Stay!" he cried, arresting him. "A vision rises before me. I see in this watery mirror a representation of the burning city. And what are those fearful forms that feed the flames? Fiends, in our likeness -- fiends! And see how wide and far the conflagration spreads. The whole city is swallowed up by an earthquake. It sinks to the bottomless pit -- down -- down!"

"No more of this," cried the leader, impatiently. "Come along." And, followed by the others, he rushed to the gates, and locking them after him, flung the key away.

"A hundred pounds were paid to the servant of the chief officer of the works to bring those keys to me," he said, "and he executed his commission faithfully and well. Water will be vainly sought for to quench the conflagration."

"I like not the vision I have just beheld," said Solomon Eagle, in a troubled tone. "It seems to portend mischief."

"Think of it no more," rejoined the leader, "or regard it as it was -- a phantom created by your overheated imagination. Yon city has sinned so deeply, that it is the will of Heaven it should be destroyed; and it has been put into our hearts by the Supreme Power to undertake the terrible task. We are the chosen instruments of the divine displeasure. Everything favours the design -- the long-continued dry weather -- the strong easterly wind, which will bear the flames into the heart of the city -- the want of water, occasioned by the stopping of these pipes, the emptying of the various aqueducts, and the destruction of the Thames water-tower, which we have accomplished. Everything favours it, I say, and proves that the hand of Heaven directs us. Yes, London shall fall! We have received our commission from on high, and must execute it, regardless of the consequences. For my own part, I feel as little compunction to the task, as the thunderbolt launched from on high does for the tree it shivers."

"Philip Grant has uttered my sentiments exactly," said the man who, it has been mentioned, spoke with a slight foreign accent. "I have neither misgiving nor compunction. You appear to have forgotten your own denunciations, brother."

"Not so, Brother Hubert," rejoined the enthusiast, "and I now recognise in the vision a delusion of the Evil One to turn me from my holy purpose. But it has failed. The impious and impenitent city is doomed, and nothing can save it. And yet I would fain see it once more as I beheld it this morn when day arose upon it for the last time, from the summit of Saint Paul's. It looked so beautiful that my heart smote me, and tears started to my eyes, to think that those goodly habitations, those towers, temples, halls, and palaces, should so soon be levelled with the dust."

"Hear what the prophet saith," rejoined Hubert. "'Thou hast defiled thy sanctuaries by the multitude of thine iniquities, by the iniquity of thy traffic. Therefore will I bring forth a fire from the midst of thee, and will bring thee to ashes upon the earth, in the sight of all those that behold thee.'"

Solomon Eagle flung himself upon his knees, and his example was imitated by the others. Having recited a prayer in a low deep tone, he arose, and stretching out his arms, solemnly denounced the city. As he pronounced the words, a red and fiery star shot from the dark vault of the sky, and seemed to fall in the midst of the city.