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. "Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. It was not possible for him to have been deceived. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. I can see that you were somebody, in another day. But to live at peace with your neighbour….
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