hot temperament of Eliza, well and powerfully built, and with an
air of being a man of erotic passions; but he turned out to be of a
languid unimpassioned nature, who could not imagine any other manner
than simply mounting on a woman's belly and fucking her once a night,
and with no conception of using either preliminaries or aids to her
passions. So that he left poor Eliza only in a state of excitement
instead of giving any satisfaction to her lascivious nature. She did,
eventually, work him up to good night and good morning, but for her
full satisfaction she used too seek elsewhere, and even to content
herself with the embraces of a man servant, who, if not good looking,
proved to have a splendid and powerful prick, and nearly daily gave her
comfort. She also occasionally came to me, when she had both apertures
well exercised, and left me much comforted.

She never had any children, and so managed her intrigues as never to be
found out.

I returned to London in the spring, and was called to the bar.

I went the western circuit for odd assizes, and then abandoned the bar
as a profession.

Harry Dale, with more perseverance, as well as greater necessity for
exertion, continued in the profession, was duly called to the bar, and
eventually became a rising and successful barrister, and at this period
of our old age is now a distinguished judge.

But to return to our earlier days.

Harry and I carried on our intrigue with the Nichols and Ann, aided by
our dear friend MacCallum. Also from time to time with the Benson,
Egerton, and Count, to which generally the darling Frankland brought
her exquisite charms to intoxicate us with pleasure.

This delightful reunion was sadly affected by the loss of the Count,
who received an amnesty--I think I before have said he was a political
exile--returned to his own country, and we never again had his
delightful aid in our sadly shortened orgies.

The Count and I met in a future year at his old castle on the hills of
Pied, of which I shall have much more to say on a later occasion.

It was a sad loss, especially for the Egerton, who dearly loved the
Count. He had been her first lover, indeed, her initiator in the real
mysteries of Venus. It will be remembered that her husband was one of
those old insensible natures that think it is only necessary to hastily
"piss their tallow," as Falstaff says, as quickly as they can, and
leave a poor woman just sufficiently excited to be madl