"Here are a pair of gloves and a nosegay for you. ‘They cannot help it. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Brendon felt his arm seized. 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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