Just. Wood fancied he recognised. 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 thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. ” Anna leaned back in the chair and laughed softly.
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