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. That’s really what I want to discuss. In this letter, which is addressed to my ill-fated mother, he speaks of his friendship for Sir Rowland, whom it seems he had known abroad; but entreats her to keep the marriage secret for a time, for reasons which are not fully developed. U. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. Recollect that. . That blow made me a thief. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. “Bother!” and decided that this was not so, and would not look to right or left again.
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