Ann Veronica said nothing. There was little fighting spirit here. "No friend like the mother,
for the babby knows no other. 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. This morning I met him at the dock, and he wouldn't
take the other fifty. Wild here presently, and I wouldn't for the
world—Zounds!" he exclaimed, as the figure of the thief-taker appeared at the
wicket, "here he is. "But
if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion
permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech
thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be
to him what I would have been.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 09-07-2024 16:37:15