Puffing her clothes up to her hips a fine young English woman turned her bum on to the seat. It came out of a pair of drawers, which hid nearly her buttocks. As she sat down her hand eased her drawers away from her cunt. Splash, trump, and all was over. The hair of her cunt was lightish. She was gone. Another came who spoke to her in English, and without a moment's delay pissed, and off she went.

Then a lady entered. As she closed the door I saw a man trying to enter. She pushed him out saying in suppressed voice, “Oh! for God's sake are you mad? — he can see from the carriage-window.” “Not there sir,” I heard the woman in charge cry out. The door was shut, and bolted.

The lady, young and handsome, stood quite still, facing the seat, as if overcome with anxiety; then feeling in her pocket, took out some letters, and selecting some, tore them in half, and threw them down the privy. That done she daintly wiped round the seat with a piece of paper, lifted up handsome laced petticoats, and turning her rump towards the seat daintily sat down. She had no drawers on. She must have fancied something, for she rose again directly, and holding her clothes half-way up her thighs looked carefully at the seat. Then she mounted it, but as if she scarcely knew how to do it, stumbled and bungled. She stood upright on it for an instant, and then I could only see half-way up her legs. At length the bum slowly descended, her petticoats up, and adjusted so as to avoid all chance of contamination. I saw the piss descending, but she was sitting too for-ward, and the piss fell splashing over the edge of the seat. She wriggled back opening her legs wider, and a pretty cunt with dark hair up to her bum-hole showed. My cock stood again. She jumped off the seat, looked down the privy, gave her clothes a tuck between her thighs, and went off.

Then came others, mostly English, pissing in haste, and leaving, and bum after bum I saw. Then came a woman with a little girl. She was not English, she mounted the seat, and cacked. Whilst doing so she told the child to “pi-pi bйbe” on the floor, which she did not. When she had finished she wiped her arse-hole with her finger, — how she cleaned the finger I didn't see. She then took up her child, held her up over the seat with her clothes up to her waist, her cunt towards me, and made her piss. The tiny stream splashed on the seat, and against the hole through which I was looking — a drop hit me on the eye. How funny the hairless little split looked to me. To think that her little split might one day be surrounded with black hair like her mother's, and have seven inches of stiff prick up it! Her mother's hair was black, and she had a moustache.

Again a row. “Not there Monsieur, — l'autre cote.” “It's full God damn it, — I am not going to shit my-self,” said a man in English. “Vous ne pouvez pas enter,” — but he would. A big Englishman — a common man — pushed the woman in charge aside, and bolted the door muttering. “Damned fool, — does she think I'm going to shit myself!” He tore down his trowsers, and I moved away, but heard him let fly before he had sat on the seat (he had the squitters), and muttering to himself, he buttoned up and left. I heard him wrangling with the woman in charge.

Instantly two young ladies entered, — sisters seemingly, and English, — nice fresh-looking girls, both quite fair. One pulled up her clothes. “Oh! I can't sit down, — what a beastly place, — what beasts those French are,” said she, — “dirty beasts, — call the woman, Emily.” Emily looked outside. “I can't see her, — make haste, or the train will be leaving.” I can't sit down.” “Get on the seat as those dirty French do, and I'll hold your petticoats up. Take care now, — take care.”

“I shall get my feet in it,” said she. “No you won't.” She stood fronting me, and pulling up her petticoats till they looked as if tied round her waist in a bundle, showing every part from her motte, to her knees, (my eye just at the level of her bum), and saying, “Don't look and laugh” — but laughing herself, she got on the seat. A prettily-made creature, not stout, nor thin, with a cunt covered with light-brown hair. She squatted. I saw the bum-hole moving. “I can't do it like this,” she cried, “with all this nastiness about me, — are my clothes falling down?” “No, — make haste, — you won't have another opportunity for two hours.” Out and in went the anus again, the pretty fair-haired quim was gaping, the piddle began to fall. She wanted to piddle badly enough. I said aloud in my excitement at seeing her beauty, “Cunt, cunt.”

The girl got upright, I could now only see half her legs. “Hish! did you hear?” said she. Both were silent. “It must be the woman in the next place.” It sounded like a man.” Then she spoke in a whisper. “No it can't be.” She squatted again laughing. “It's no one.” Her evacuations dropped and off she got. “You go, Mary,” said the other. “I only want to pee, and I'll do it on the floor.” “The dirty creatures, why don't they keep the place clean?” Squatting I watched her face. It was all I could see then, and suppose she pissed. I only saw her hitch up her clothes, but nothing more.

Then the closet-woman came, and wiped the seat grumbling, women opened the door whilst she was doing so, then others came in, and for half an hour or so, I saw a succession of buttocks, fat and thin, clean and dirty, and cunts of all colours. I have told of all worth noting. The train went off, and all was quiet. I had again diarrhoea, and what with evacuating, the belly-ache, and frigging excitement, felt so fatigued that I was going away. As I opened the door the woman was just putting the key in. She started back as she saw me.

“Are you ill?” she said. “Yes.” “What a time you have staid, — why did you not go?” Then all at once, as if suspecting something, she began looking at the backs of the women's closets, and found the hole, and looking half smiling, half angry, “You made that,” said she. “No.” “Yes you did.” I declared I had not. “Ah! mechant, — mechant,” said she (looking through the hole), and something about the chef de la gare. “You have been peeping through.” “Certainly.” I was so excited, so full of the adventure, that I had been bursting to tell some one, and talk the incident over. So in discreet words I told her about the man, and the woman, and her letters, and other incidents, till she was amused, and laughed. Then spite of my illness my lust got strong as I looked at her, for she had a cunt. She was a coarse sun-tanned, but fine stout sort of tall peasant woman about thirty-five years old. So I told her of the pretty little splits, and nice bums I had seen, all in select language. And I so longed, Ma-dame. “Oh! if I had had them in here.” “Ah! no doubt.” “Or if you had been here, for I wished for you.” “For me? — ah! ah!” — and she slapped both her thighs and laughed. “Mais je suis mariee, moi, — Ah! mechant, — mechant.” “Here is another five francs, but I must have a kiss.” She gave it seemingly much flattered. I said I should come the next day. “Ah! non!” she must tell the Chef, it was her duty, — it would be useless if I came for that hole.

We talked on. She was the wife of a workman who it seems travelled up and down the line almost continually with officers of the railway, and only came home about once a week, or ten days. She had no children. Whilst talking my diarrhoea came on. My paper was gone, she produced some from her pocket, and simply turned her back whilst I eased myself (the enclosure had no door), as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Finally after saying that she would not dare to let me in the next day, yet on a promise of ten francs she said she would, and volunteered the information that by an early train many other farmers' wives would probably arrive for the market, that many would come by the line just opened. She must report the hole to the Chef, — it might cost her her place if she did not, and it would be stopped. I kissed her again, and whispered in her ear, “I wish I had seen you sitting, and that you had come in here afterwards.” “Ah! mon Dieu que vous etes mechant,” she replied laugh- ing, and looking lewedly in my eyes — and I went off. I had been there hours.