Valade accorded the
major’s greeting a brief nod and gave his attention back to St Erme. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with
lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a
hill. As they
56
approached the manor, she was permitted to peep her
head outside the chariot's front window. Except he
was the only idiot who would stay. She rang again with the same result. 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.
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This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 06-07-2024 01:07:46