On our way downstairs we went into Room Four to see the relics of the Great Plague. There is a bell used by the men in charge of the death carts, when they went round calling their awful summons, "Bring out your dead!" That old rusty bell with the long wooden handle could tell a tale of horror if its iron tongue could speak our language. What sights it has seen as the dead cart rumbled through the dark, narrow streets of ancient London, and the bell rang its accompaniment to the bell-man's fearful chant. Doors would open and lights shine out across the pavement. The stricken silence of the night would be broken by stealthy movements and smothered voices, shapeless, horrible burdens would exchange hands, and the cart continue its way over the cobbles to the awful goal of the plague pits. Perhaps it's well that rusty old bell _can't_ speak! There are also the Bills of Mortality, and remedies prescribed as preventive measures (boiled milk with two cloves of garlick, was one I noticed), also two fuming pots, in which charcoal was burnt: one found at Moorfield and one in Town Ditch, Broad Street. In a healthy reaction from the horrors of the Plague, Mrs. D. insisted on having another look at the model of the Great Fire before we left the Museum. It was only by reminding her that the "Cheshire Cheese" was a "pub," and closed at three o'clock, that I at last succeeded in getting her away from the fascinating toy. It is now past 1 A.M., and as I have been writing ever since 10 P.M., I must leave the account of our visit to the "Cheese" till my next. Mrs. Darling is, presumably, sleeping the sleep of the just, and I hope not disturbed by anything worse than dreams of the Great Fire. To lay any ghosts of _that man_ with the rusty old bell who may haunt my own thoughts, and yours, I quote dear old Herrick's words of another and happier "Bell Man":-- From noise of scare-fires rest ye free, From murders, Benedicite; From all mischances that may fright Your pleasing slumbers in the night, Mercy secure ye all, and keep The goblin from ye, while ye sleep. Past one o'clock, and almost two-- My masters all, good day to you! Yours ever, GEORGE. CHAPTER XII CARRINGTON MEWS, SHEPHERD MARKET, _24th February._ My Dear Agatha,--To take up my story where I dropped it the other night.... You can approach the "Cheshire Cheese" either by the front door in Wine Office Court or by the back door in Cheshire Court. I prefer the tunnel-like passage leading to the back door, it seems a more fit means of transporting one from Fleet Street of to-day to the Fleet Street of 1667.