" "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown. " "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. 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. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. "Aha!" exclaimed Jonathan, acting upon the information he had obtained from Wood; "I have found you at last. She did not want to feel such negative emotion towards any member of her foster family.
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