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 had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. Solomon Smith seemed to be Mr. "We've no time for any Bedlam scenes now.
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