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MY SECRET LIFE an all but sleepless night. The dread of being told about, and dread at what I had done, kept me awake. I heard the two women talking for a long time. Mixed with my dread was a wonder at the hair, and the soft, moist feel, I had had for an instant, on some part of my hand. I knew I had felt the hidden part of a female, where the piddle came from, and that is all I did think about it, that I know of, I have no recollection of a lewd sensation, but of a curious sort of delight only.

It must have been from this time, that my curiosity about the female form strengthened, but there was nothing sensual in it. I was fond of kissing, for my mother remarked it; when a female cousin, or any female kissed me, I would throw my arms round them, and keep on kissing. My aunts used to laugh, my mother corrected me, and told me it was rude. I used to say to the servants, kiss me. One day I heard my godfather say: “Walter knows a pretty girl from an ugly one doesn’t he?”

I had a dread of meeting the governess, at breakfast, watched her, and saw her laugh at her sister, I watched my mother for some days after, and at length said to the governess, who had punished me for something. “Don’t tell mamma.” “I have nothing to tell about, Walter,” she replied, “and don’t know what you mean.” I began to tell her what was on my mind. “What’s the child talking about, you are dreaming, some stupid boy has been putting things into your head, your papa will thrash you, if you talk like that.” “Why you came and tickled me,” said I. “I tickled you a little when I put your light out,” said she, “be quiet.” I felt stupified, and suppose the affair must —35—