The above description of —the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains— may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. ” “Excellent,” Sir John declared. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. ’ ‘Dear me.
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