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. ’ ‘You mean the one that you refused to feed?’ demanded Gerald, seizing this promising cue and adopting a mournful note. "Rather cramped, eh?" "Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position. ‘But I have told you. “Monsieur would dine! It was very good! And Madame, of course?” with a low bow. " "Twenty pounds," rejoined Mrs. He’s been near it once or twice already. Most of them didn’t, anyhow.
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