ll it close, it's like southern wood,"
she replied. I wonder if that young lady when she married, ever smelt
it afterwards, and recognized it. I did this more than once, it gave
me great delight to think my slim cousin had smelt my prick, through
smelling my fingers; what innate lubricity comes out early in the male.

Misfortunes of all sort came upon us, the family came back to town,
another brother died, then my father who had been long ill, died, and
was found to be nearly bankrupt; then my godfather died, and left me
a fortune, all was trouble and change, but I only mention these family
matters briefly.

My physique still could not have been strong, for though more than ever
intensely romantic, and passionately fond of female society, I don't
recollect being much troubled with cock-standings, and think I should,
had I been so. My two intimate school-friends left off frigging,
the elder brother, who had a very long red nose, having come to the
conclusion with me, that frigging made people mad, and worse, prevented
them afterwards from fucking and having a family. Fred, my favorite
cousin, arrived at the same conclusion--by what mental process, we all
arrived at it, I don't know.

When I was approaching my sixteenth year, I awakened one night with a
voluptuous dream, and found my night-shirt saturated with semen, it was
my first wet-dream; that set me frigging again for a time, but I either
restrained myself, or did not naturally require much spending at that
time, for I certainly did not often do so.

But our talk was always about cunt and woman, I was always trying to
smell their flesh, look up their petticoats, watch to see them going
to piddle; and the wonder to me now is, that I did not frig myself
incessantly; and can only account for it on the grounds, that though my
imagination was very ripe, my body was not. The fact of hair under
the arms of women had a secret charm for me about that time. I don't
recollect thinking much about it before, though it had astonished me
when I first saw it; and why it came to my imagination so much now, do
not know, but it did. I have told of the woman under whose arms I first
saw hair.

One afternoon after my father's death, and that of my godfather, Fred
was with me, we went to the house of a friend, and were to return home
about nine o'clock. It was dark, we saw a woman standing by a wall. "She
is a whore," said Fred, "and will let us feel her if we pay her." "You
go and