"Impossible!" echoed Wild, with a fearful imprecation. We're lost. I tell you that because it puts us on a footing. Besides those whom I've slain with my own hands, I've brought upwards of thirty persons to the gallows. 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. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. I acted in plays, I studied philosophy, mathematics, and science. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland.
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