Now when I tell you exactly the truth, you will also not believe me. I went off to round up his wife. Indeed I am! I would make this country a collective monarchy, and all the girls and women in it should be the Queen. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. Then she went below. 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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