" "Here!" ejaculated Wood, with a look of alarm. 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. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. Bon.
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