’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. I told the soldier how he must go by the passage, and he found it and brought it here. My father thought the latter. 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. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass Beholds thee in all thy perfection; And to the pale snout of a temperate ass Entertains the profoundest objection.
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