When a mere child she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory. Easy enough to look as if one rides away. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. For many of them it will smirch us forever. 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. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him.
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