Witness Browning. He glanced at his watch. The evenings were dulcet and soft. 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. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it.
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