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 can give me a little of his history, can't you? Something about his people?" "Oh, his folks were all right. ” Anna handed her a bracelet she had made out of string and macaroni. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy.
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