me, what do you think?" I inclined to the opinion
it must be, but had no experience to guide me; on the whole we agreed
that it was likely to be bigger.

"Then," said she, "I suppose some men have smaller things than yours?"
I told her that as far as I knew they varied slightly, but only had
knowledge of youthful pricks, and could not be certain whether they
varied much when full grown or not. We went on about Mary. "I know I
should like to be such a big, fine woman." "But" said I, "I don't like
light hair, I like dark hair on a cunt, light hair can't look well, I
should think." "I like her," said Charlotte, "she is a nice woman, but
often dull, she has no relatives in London, never says anything about
them or herself, she used to have letters, and then often cried, she has
none now; the other night she took me in her arms, gave me a squeeze
and said, 'Oh! if you were a nice young man now', then laughed and
said, 'perhaps we would put our things together and make babies.' I was
frightened to say anything, for fear she would find out I knew to much;
I think she has been crossed in love."

I was twiddling Charlotte's quim as I was never tired of doing,
something in the sensation I suppose reminded her, for laughing she went
on: "You know what you did to me the other night." "What?" said I not
recollecting. "You know, with your finger." "Oh! frig." "Yes, well Mary
does that; I was awake one night, and was quite quiet, when I heard Mary
breathing hard, and felt her elbow go jog, jog, just touching my side,
then she gave a sigh, and all was quiet. I went to sleep, and have
only just thought of it." She had heard or felt this jog from the cook
before, so we both concluded, that she frigged herself, Charlotte knew
what frigging was.

"Do you recollect your mamma's birthday?" said Charlotte, "she sent us
down a bottle of sherry, the gardener was to have some, but did not;
so we were both a little fuddled when we went to bed. When Mary was
undressed she pulled up her clothes to her hips, and looking at herself
said, 'my legs are twice as big as yours.' Then we made a bet on it and
measured; she lost, but her thigh was half as big again round as mine;
then she thew herself on her back and cocked up her legs, opening them
for a minute. I said 'Lor, Mary, what ever are you doing?' 'Ah I' said
she, 'women's legs were made to open', and there it ended. I never heard
her before say or do anything improper, she is most particular." I