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. “How dare you? You are trying to kidnap my babies!” Clotilde demanded. ” “Well,” she said, “has there not been some reason for this? The likeness to Annabel could scarcely have escaped remark. . This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not.
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