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. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. ” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. At this juncture, the sound of oars reached his ears, and he perceived Mr. Everything was done in a genteel and ordinary way, but on the other hand, there was no lingering. I have seen many of them. But the world didn’t do that. He was a stranger. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence.
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