9. 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. —'They have,' says he. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. A severe pang shot through Jack's heart, and he would have given worlds if he possessed them to have seen his friend once more. She was still good at following orders. His eyes caught at hers with passionate inquiries.
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