At last, a reluctant assent being wrung from him by Sir Joseph Sheldon, that a house should be pulled down, as suggested by Leonard, preparations were instantly made for putting the design into execution.  The house selected was about four doors from the top of Fish-street-hill, and belonged to a birdcage-maker.  But they encountered an unexpected opposition.  Having ascertained their purpose, the owner fastened his doors, and refused to admit them.  He harangued the mob from one of the upper windows, and producing a pistol, threatened to fire upon them if they attempted to gain a forcible entrance.  The officers, however, having received their orders, were not to be intimidated, and commenced breaking down the door.  The birdcage-maker then fired, but without effect; and before he had time to reload, the door had yielded to the combined efforts of the multitude, who were greatly enraged at his strange conduct.  They rushed upstairs, but finding he had locked himself in the room, left him there, supposing him secure, and commenced the work of demolition.  More than a hundred men were engaged in the task; but though they used the utmost exertion, they had little more than unroofed the building, when a cry was raised by those in the street that the house was on fire.  Alarmed by the shout, they descended, and found the report true.  Flames were issuing from the room lately occupied by the birdcage-maker.  The wretch had set fire to his dwelling, and then made his escape with his family by a back staircase.  Thus defeated, the workmen, with bitter imprecations on the fugitive, withdrew, and Leonard, who had lent his best assistance to the task, repaired to the lord mayor.  He found him in greater consternation than ever.

“We must go further off, if we would do any good,” said Leonard; “and as the present plan is evidently too slow, we must have recourse to gunpowder.”

“Gunpowder!” exclaimed the lord mayor.  “Would you blow up the city, like a second Guy Fawkes?  I begin to suspect you are one of the incendiaries yourself, young man.  Lord, Lord! what will become of us?”

“If your worship disapproves of my suggestion, at least give orders what is to be done,” rejoined Leonard.

“I have done all I can,” replied the mayor.  “Who are you that talk to me thus?”

“I have told your worship I am a simple tradesman,” replied Leonard.  “But I have the welfare of the city at heart, and I cannot stand by and see it burnt to the ground without an effort to save it.”

“Well, well, I dare say you mean very well, young man,” rejoined the lord mayor, somewhat pacified.  “But don’t you perceive it’s impossible to stop such a fire as this without water, or engines.  I’m sure I would willingly lay down my life to preserve the city.  But what can I do?—­what can any man do?”

“Much may be done if there is resolution to attempt it,” returned Leonard.  “I would recommend your worship to proceed, in the first place, to the wharves on the banks of the Thames, and cause the removal of the wood, coal, and other combustible matter with which they are crowded.”