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. "Won't you be persuaded, Joan?" he added, making a similar offer to Mrs. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. ‘Dear me. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. Do you think we could manage that old clothesman between us, if we got out of this box?" "I'd manage him myself, if my arms were free," replied Thames, boldly.
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