. “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. “What do you mean?” she asked. 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.
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