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T.W. J.S. F.E.M. A.G. W. Williams W. Figg. G.M. S.A.A. Trin. Coll. Dubl. J.W. Burrows. S.A. A.F. W. Robson. J.S.B. Wicamicus C.B. D. H. Andrews. R. Snow. C.W.G. Naso. Scotus. Rev. Answers to Queries respecting Rev. T. Reman, Katherine Pegg, &c. in our next. Will MUSARUM STUDIOSUS enable us to communicate with him directly? PHILO is thanked for his proposed endeavours to enlarge our circulation.
Waffles would have been an invaluable customer to Thornton if the former's groom, Mr. Figg, had not been rather too hard with his 'reg'lars. He insisted on Caingey dividing whatever he got out of his master with him.
I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. Will you take me?" However tempting Mrs. Maggot's offer may appear, the young man thought fit to decline it, and, after a few words of well-merited compliment on her extraordinary prowess, and renewed thanks to Mr. Kneebone, he took his departure. "Good bye!" cried Mrs.
He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathern-looking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. The above description of the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains
So the King 'e sent one of his genelmen down to Figg and he said to him: ''Ere's a cove vot cracks a bone every time 'e lets vly, and it'll be little credit to the Lunnon boys if they lets 'im get avay vithout a vacking. So Figg he ups, and he says, 'I do not know, master, but he may break one of 'is countrymen's jawbones vid 'is vist, but I'll bring 'im a Cockney lad and 'e shall not be able to break 'is jawbone with a sledge 'ammer. I was with Figg in Slaughter's coffee-'ouse, as then vas, ven 'e says this to the King's genelman, and I goes so, I does!"
After the warriors had sufficiently fought with swords, they fell to with the quarter-staff, and the result of this long and delightful battle was, that victory remained with her ancient champion Figg. Whilst the warriors were at battle, a thunderstorm had broken over the building, and Mr.
Sutton was speedily followed by the famous Figg, to whom the stout gentleman waved a hand of approbation. Both men were in their shirts, their heads were shaven clean, but bore the cracks and scars of many former glorious battles. On his burly sword-arm, each intrepid champion wore an "armiger," or ribbon of his colour.
This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and close-shaven pate. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules.
"'Sir John Constantine? did I hear you say. Sir John Constantine?" queried the Reverend Mr. Figg, with a complete change of manner. "That's quite another thing! Anything to oblige Sir John Constantine, I'm sure " "Do you know him?" asked my uncle.
"If I get free, I'll have a bout with you at all weapons. If not, I'll take a cheerful glass with you at the City of Oxford, on my way to Tyburn." "Give you the best I have in either case," replied Figg. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. "I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked.
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