I was expected further north, but my letch was not quite satisfied. I am not so young as I was, and four fucks are not to be repeated daily, so I gave myself a day's rest, calling however the next day on my friend at the manufactory, with the real object of looking at the forewoman. I had told her I should call, and asked her jokingly to lift up her clothes as high as she dare, when going up the step ladder. I have those letches. But she didn't; I barely saw to her knees. Next night I took a bottle of the finest whiskey, and we sat drinking and fucking the whole evening. She got a wee bit tight — I had half an hour's look at her red haired horse col- lar. There was an inch and a half of fat on the lips. I put three fingers up her vagina, and fancied she was very large, yet inside it felt tight enough. — What sized prick could she have taken I wondered as I fucked her. I didn't so much care about her as I did on the first night tho I did her three times. Most of the lasses did a bit on the sly, she admitted that night. — Long live King cock and Queen cunt. The next day I left G***c*w.

Before I fucked this woman the second time tonight, I had a prolonged look at this red haired vulva, and to-wards the end of my inspection said jokingly, “Your bum's a hairy one.” She was kneeling at the time with her backside towards me, and swung round saying, “You needn't look at it,” and seemingly was much of-fended, I told her it was exquisite, which pleased her much. (One must always admire a lady's privates. There is one whom I have fucked at intervals for fifteen years, and have known her cunt and backside since the time there was not more hair on her motte than would cover a five shilling piece, and not a sign of it near her anus; I have seen it grow, and spread in all directions till her bum valley is hairy and the cheeks furry. But if I notice this she is evidently annoyed.)

My invitation north, was only for a fortnight, during which time I had no woman, a thing so remarkable that I note it. I attribute it in a degree to great fatigue, and also perhaps to coming middle age having tempered my lust. But I had little chance or temptation. Men servants were all I saw, I was fifteen miles from a town, cottages were few and miles apart, and the lasses I saw there were young, dirty, and unkempt, and were well looked after by their families I expect. — It was almost early winter, when returning I stopped at the town of D**d*e and the sight of a woman there, made my cock stand unmanageably, within an hour after I arrived.

It was a mild afternoon, and after washing at the hotel I walked out, and saw a well grown, dark eyed woman, looking about one or two and twenty, with bare feet, and a bundle, walking along quickly. She had large hips, and her bum moved in a manner pleasing to me. She had short petticoats, I saw her calves and thought she was a work woman of some sort, and not a bit like a gay woman. I walked after her half a mile, lusting for her, speculating upon her charms, and wondering if she'd let me have her. — Once or twice she looked round but it was after no one, nor had she looked at me, yet her doing so opened a suspicion that she was gay. But had she been gay, she would have had shoes and stockings on, or if too poor for them, would have been in the slums and dirty, whereas she was very neat, clean, and tidily dressed.

As she turned down a side street, I urged by a swollen prick, stepped up to her side, and asked if I might go home with her. — She stopped short, and scrutinized me for a minute without a word, and then said — “It's a long way off.” — “Let me, and I will give you five shillings.” — “Very well, but it's a long way off.” “Where?” — “Up the * * * * road, and close to the sod-gers.” I knew that there were barracks outside the town, tho I'd never seen them. — “How far?” “Twenty minutes good.” — “Are you a mill-hand?” — “Yes at Mesrs. * * * mill.” — “Don't you know any house near here?” She didn't, and further questioned, said it was her father's cottage, and she and her sister both lived there. — “Your Father?” “The old mon won't mind,” said she, as her remark about her father, she saw made me hesitate — “Will you come?” — I shook my head. “Vera weel,” and turning round she walked off at a stiff pace, without ever looking back, or seeming to care. All was spoken by her in broad Scotch.

Her indifference surprized me — was she gay or a mill woman? — Thinking so I stood still. “Up by the sodgers.” I saw a long road half in the country before me, it was getting dusk, and I thought I might if I followed her, get into some low brothel frequented by soldiers. I turned back, but she looked so healthy and nice, that my prick almost pointed after her, and turning, I ran partly, then walked very quickly till I over-took her, and said I'd go with her. “Vera weel,” she said, scarcely noticing me and tramped steadily on, without looking at me, or addressing a word to me. Nor did I to her, and we didn't meet a person on the road.

In a quarter of an hour's tramp along a country road, with hedges, and stone fences at intervals I saw dimly buildings half in the fields. — It was the barracks, and a few cottages scattered about in its vicinity. — “It's up there, there,” said she. Determined now to have her at any risks, I went on by her side, and turning a corner of a hedge into a cross road, I came on two cottages one story high, with little forecourts to them, and gardens about them. — Against the wall of one sat a white haired old man smoking a pipe. — “Wait a bit there,” said she. “It's father — I will tell the old man to get out of the way, and see if my sister's in.” — The next minute the old man disappeared in the garden, which had a bit of a shed in it, and she bawled out — “Coom in Sir.”

Inside it was dark — “I'll get a light,” said she, striking one and lighting a candle. Then I saw I was in a mere hovel with a tile floor, the walls were nicely white washed, and with many showy colored prints in frames hung against them. There was a good large kitchen stove with a peat fire smoldering in it, and a large sheepskin in front of it — and pots and pans on a shelf, big wooden arm chairs, and a truckle bed in the corner. It was a mere peasant's hut without signs of poverty, and with some of comfort in it. — “Father sleeps there, sister and I sleep here,” said she and opened the door of a bedroom, of much the same character as the kitchen. There was a large bed in it, sheets which looked whitish, and a dark thick blanket on it, a chest of drawers, and wash stand. She at once drew the pot from under the bed and pissed, remarking as it rattled, that her sister hadn't come home yet. “D'ye want?” said she pointing to the pot. All seemed so rough and peasantlike that it amused me. I lost all fear of a baudy-house row with “sodgers.”

Was she whore, or wasn't she? — Certainly she was, for she had made no difficulty about accepting the money for her person, yet had said that she worked regularly at a mill, as did her sister. — Then I thought she was a soldier's woman, that I was running risk of disease, and asked, “Do you bring soldiers home here? Here is the money, don't let me have you, if you have the slightest poorliness on you.” — “What! A sodger ha me? — I'm not a sodger's woman — I wouldn't let one of the bouggers touch me with a pair o tangs, d'ye think I'm a sodger's whure?” She was most indig- nant. Poor Scotch women it seems to me use the word “whure” very freely, and as if it were no more indecent than any other word in the dictionary.

I told her I didn't, but had been misled by her words, and she was soon pacified. Going up to her, I put my hand on to her cunt. “Stop, I'll wash it first and make it nice for you.” — With the same coolness she washed it in a basin, looking up at me and saying, “So you took me for a sodger's whure. — There's no sodgers' girls about here, they go to the town for their girls, and where there's liquor.” Drying her cunt with her chemise, she got on the bed, quickly got off, put the money into the drawers, and got on to the bed again, saying “I'll wash my feet first an ye like, I do when I come home always.” — Impatient to have her, I at once pulled out my prick which was rubicund, stiff, and ready. — “Ohoo,” — said she, chuckling as she saw it, seizing and shaking it, and with her other hand pulling up her own clothes. — “Let me look,” and I lifted them up to her navel, she had no stays on, all was natural form with her. The sight of her cunt made me jump on to her belly at once, the red split in a dark hairy frame looked lovely, and in a second we were fucking hard. “I've not fucked for a fortnight, my love.” “And I haven't done it for a month” — she gasped. “Oh — o,” she sighed and her cunt clipped me like a vice. — “Oh — what — ah — ah — oh,” — was all I recollect her saying. — The next second her cunt was like a paste pot, and she was hugging and kissing me quietly. “I've spent your cunt full my dear.” “Ye war just too fu,” said she as she kept on kissing me.