“I thinks I knows a steady little gal, whose mother's just died, her father ain't no good, and you and Mary must ask her in; I can't have nothin to do with it except gettin her here.” One day afterwards she told me she had asked the girl to tea, and that she was as curious as could be to know all about it (meaning fucking). “She knows as much as we do”, said the old woman with a chuckle. “Was far as talking goes and she would like to know as much as them as does it as well, but she is timid; there is three of them, she is the eldest, the father leaves her in charge, you shall see her.” Mary Davis had gone home ill. The girl was brought in, I sent out for gin, a nice little girl she was, and she drank some of it. The old woman then left with a wink. The girl took my kisses very well, never said a word, so getting on by degrees I talked to her about naked people, and getting children, felt her ankles and legs, then told her I woulld give her a shilling if she would feel my cock. She did not say a word, but stood still, my arm round her waist, whilst I pulled out my stiff prick. Then she bent forward curiously, whilst I put her little hand round it, and guiding it, pulled the foreskin down from the tip. Then I put my hand up her clothes, and felt her thighs and bum; but on bringing my hand to the cunt, she broke away in tears saying, “Oh I no sir, — I would rather not sir, —I'm much obliged to you sir for showing it me, and the shilling; but I would rather not sir,-oh ! let me go, let me go, — Mrs. Smith, — Mrs. Smith.” The old woman was listening, and came in instantly. “Oh! what are you doing to her?” said she in a whining tone, “what is the matter my dear? — don't cry, — oh ! you should not sir”, — and winking at me, away she went with the girl; then came back, said the girl was scared, and she feared it was no go. “But if you heared her talk, you would think she would let any man do anything with her.”

Half-an-hour afterwards the girl had composed her-self, and came back. I had more gin, the old woman again left us, the girl had another shilling, and again she felt me. I began talking to her about the parsley-bed out of which children come, and generally on the subject of generation and its working tools. “Now dear don't be alarmed (she seemed as timid as a hare), you know what a cunt is?” “Yes”, said she, “it's a nasty word,-poor mother told father he was a beast cause he said it when drunk.” “Well my dear, some-thing comes out of a man if he puts this up a cunt, and that gets children, — lay hold of my prick, and you will see”,-and guiding her little hand I frigged myself with it. But she cried out when I attempted to feel her cunt, and I never had her. The old woman said she was frightened to bring her again, that she and Mary Davis might manage it together, and when Davis came back I wished her to try, but she refused to have anything to do with it. The lech passed away, for it was but a whim. At that time I liked large well-haired cunts.

I am anticipating, for this took place nearly two years after I first had Mary Davis. That girl got fond of me, and I liked her. I got a little better off, and used to give her more money; but she always took what I gave her contentedly. The only thing I can remember out of the common course of lecherous events in such acquaintances, is that I took one for spending over her, used to fuck up to spending-point, then pull out my prick, and frigging it, emit my semen on to her belly, breasts, or thighs; then I began fucking again, almost directly I had discharged and looking at my spunk lying on her flesh. When my pleasure came on again, I would put her hand on to my spunk; and directly her fingers touched it, it fetched me, and she as well, although she always said it was a dirty trick. But I only did this a few times. I began also to use French letters, for reasons she advised me to do so.

The neighbouring streets were full of poor gay women. She heard that I had been seen going into a house in the neighbourhood, and cried about it. Her health got bad, her womb began to fall, and the doctor said she was not strong enough for a gay life. She told me she was the daughter of an under game-keeper, that a young tradesman kept company with her, she liked him, and he said he meant to marry her. Bringing her home one evening when she had got out on the sly, they felt each other's privates on the road. Very soon after she and one of her sisters were allowed to go to some village-dance. Her sister walked off with her sweetheart;

Mary's young man took her to some cottage, did it to her twice, and then walked home with her. She did not know whose fault it was; his or hers, for from the night they had felt each other, she thought of nothing else till she had his prick up her. Her father found it out, she ran away to London, became gay, and had never lived in any other house but the one I visited her in. “Whenever I saw him after he had felt me” (her lover) she would say, “I felt in a flurry all over, and could think of nothing else, I longed to feel his hand on my thing again,-she soon did.”

She went home ill, came back, her womb got worse, she went to a hospital, got thin and fretted, again went home, and I never heard more of her. I had great pleasure in her society, it was my greatest solace to tell her all my misery, for she was a complacent kind creature. It was wonderful to see how clean everything was in that little square room, yet with the exception of the fire-place, she cleaned everything herself. At about two o'clock in the day she was dressed, and standing at the door, to catch passers by. She never spoke to them unless they spoke to her. She was to me at first a novel experience but I soon had plenty of experience of the poor class of women in adjacent streets.

I found it not wise to go into the streets well dressed, so put on old things, drew my hat over my eyes, assumed a slouching gait, and walked along slowly, talking to the women fill I found one I liked. Their salutation usually was, “Come here dear, — come and see what I have got to show you.” “What?” “Such a nice cunt, — such a lot of hair.” “Such a fat arse”, would say another. “How much will you let me for?” “What you like, — come in.” “I have not much money,-let me look at your cunt for a shilling.” “Come in then.” Another would say, “Make it two, and I'll strip.” Many a cunt I have seen for a shilling. If I did not like it, I went further on, or into the next street.

The street-doors were usually open, the women when dressed lolling just inside them, with head out, but dropping back if they saw a likely man, and addressing him as he passed in loud or low tones, according to their cheek. If a woman I had had and expected to see was not visible, my way was to step inside the passage, and listen at the door; if through the key-hole I saw a light, or heard voices, there was business on. If in the evening the outside shutters of the room were closed, I knew the woman was engaged for a long time, perhaps her own man, a cab-man, a costermonger, or some man of similar class was with her, if late. The women there though about the same price, or cheaper, had quite different manners from the Waterlow road ones. There were rarely more than one woman in a house, and always on the ground floor, the landlord or lady living in the back room, or upstairs. The rooms were mostly let to working people, who seemed quiet enough.

Lots of children were about, who played in the streets at day, but disappeared if quite young towards dusk. If a man stopped and talked to a gay woman at the door, the children of the house usually went in, always did if more than about ten years old. They drew back as if they knew that a bargain for fucking was to be struck, and I believe knew all about it. They were mostly girls who sleeping in the same room with their parents, I dare say had seen the game of mother and father played often enough. The bigger girls frisked about the streets of an evening with boys of the same age, or not much older.