On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. 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. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. “Thank you both for treating me for all the world like I was your child.
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