Mr. ’ She was backing across the room, moving towards the screen. 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. "Try!" Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. Are you my accuser?" "I am," replied Wild; "have you anything to allege to the contrary?" "Only this," returned Thames: "that the charge is false, and malicious, and that you know it to be so. Use the gilt, man!" "There's no need of picklock or crow-bar, here, Mr.
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