s not." "I'm sure I heard the wires of
her bell," and sure enough there came a ring. Up I went without shoes,
like a shot to my bedroom, began to smell my fingers, found they were
sticky, and the smell not the same. I recollect thinking it strange that
her cunt should be so sticky, I had heard of dirty cunts,--it was a joke
among us boys, and thought hers must have been so, which was the cause,
that the smell and feel were different.

Two or three days afterwards my mother came to town by herself, there
was a row with the servant, I was told to leave the room; the servant
and gardener were both turned off that day and hour, a char-woman was
had in, a temporary gardener got, and my mother went back to my sick
father. Years passed away, and when I had greater experience and thought
of all this, concluded that my aunt had found the gardener and the
servant amusing themselves too freely, had had them dismissed, and that
the morning I found my fingers sticky, the girl had just come in from
fucking in the gardener's shed.

With all the opportunities I had, both with big Betsy and with this
woman, I was still virgin.

When I saw Fred next, he told me he had felt the cunt of one of their
servants. I told him partly what I had done, but kept to myself how I
had failed to poke when I had the opportunity, fearing his jeers; and
as I was obliged to name some woman, mentioned one of my godfather's
servants. He went there to try his chances of groping her as well, but
got his head slapped. We talked much about the smell of cunt, and he
told me that one day after he had felt their servant, he went into the
room where his sisters were, and said, "oh what a funny smell there is
on my fingers, what can it be, smell them." Two of his sisters smelt,
said they could not tell what it was, but it was not nice. Fred used to
say, that he thought they knew it was like the smell of a cunt, because
they colored up so.

I had noticed a strong smell on my prick, whenever the curdy exudation
had to be washed out. Fred's talk made me imitative, so I saturated my
fingers with the masculine essence one evening, and going to my female
cousin, "oh what a queer smell there is on my fingers," said I, "smell
them." The girl did. "It's nasty, you've got it from your chemicals,"
said she. "I don't think I have, smell them again, I can't think what it
can be, what's it like?" "I don't think it's like anything I ever smelt,
but it is not so nasty, if you sme