Till this week the city continued free, there having never any died
except that one Frenchman, who[20] I mentioned before, within the whole
ninety-seven parishes. Now, there died four within the city,--one in
Wood Street, one in Fenchurch Street, and two in Crooked Lane. Southwark
was entirely free, having not one yet died on that side of the water.

I lived without Aldgate, about midway between Aldgate Church and
Whitechapel Bars, on the left hand, or north side, of the street; and as
the distemper had not reached to that side of the city, our neighborhood
continued very easy. But at the other end of the town their
consternation was very great; and the richer sort of people, especially
the nobility and gentry from the west part of the city, thronged out of
town, with their families and servants, in an unusual manner. And this
was more particularly seen in Whitechapel; that is to say, the Broad
Street where I lived. Indeed, nothing was to be seen but wagons and
carts, with goods, women, servants, children, etc.; coaches filled with
people of the better sort, and horsemen attending them, and all hurrying
away; then empty wagons and carts appeared, and spare horses with
servants, who it was apparent were returning, or sent from the country
to fetch more people; besides innumerable numbers of men on horseback,
some alone, others with servants, and, generally speaking, all loaded
with baggage, and fitted out for traveling, as any one might perceive by
their appearance.

This was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and as it was a
sight which I could not but look on from morning to night (for indeed
there was nothing else of moment to be seen), it filled me with very
serious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city, and the
unhappy condition of those that would be left in it.