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. 1. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not.
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