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. At length, the train approached St. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. I must stay a minute longer, if only to see you smile. Where even to be a Catholic, they say, is to be looked upon with scorn and disgust. Very doubtful. " "I know; but …" "And sometimes you say out loud: 'That's great stuff!' I never make any sound. " "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend.
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