"There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. 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. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. ’ He bowed. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. ’ At this, the fellow Valade burst into unwise speech.
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