But she was relentless. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. “Remember that the man will probably die. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. “And, you know, you’re altering us all. 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. He was aware of trying to scream because he was paralyzed and his legs would not move.
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