There was a black fear in his heart. Wood brought up. ’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm. 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. "Oh no—no! You say this to terrify me—to try me.
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