ing at a distance. With
a cousin from the North I had some rousing debauches, which were at the
time known to many of my family. He is still alive, but pious, and with
a large family, and would not like to know I am writing this. Jolly old
Ben, I won't narrate our sprees, for you may live to read this,--who
knows?

CHAPTER XVI.

Married, and miserable.--Virtuous intentions.--
Consequences.--Mary Davis.--A virtuous child.--Low class
fucksters.--A concupiscent landlady.--Reflexions on my
career.--On the sizes of pricks.--My misconception.

My life was now utterly changed; married. I was quite needy, with a
yearly income (and that not my own) not more than I used to spend in a
month, sometimes in a fortnight. Every shilling I had to look at, walked
miles where I used to ride, and to save a six pence, amusements were
beyond me, my food was the simplest, wine I scarcely tasted, all habits
of luxury were gone, but worse than all I was utterly wretched. I tried
to make the best of my life and could when by myself be cheerful, even
in the recollection of the past fun; but there was that about me now
which brought sorrow over to me. The instant I saw her, she checked my
smile, sneered at my past, moaned over my future, was a nightmare to me,
a very spectre.

I tried to like, to love her. It was impossible. Hateful in day, she was
loathsome to me in bed. Long I strove to do my duty, and be faithful,
yet to such a pitch did my disgust at length go, that laying by her
side, I had wet dreams nightly, sooner than relieve myself in her. I
have frigged myself in the streets before entering my house, sooner than
fuck her. I loving women, and naturally kind and affectionate to them,
ready to be kind and loving to her, was driven to avoid her as I would a
corpse. I have followed a woman for miles with my prick stiff, yet went
to my wretched home pure, because I had vowed to be chaste. My heart
was burning to have an affectionate kiss, a voluptuous sight from
some woman, yet I avoided obtaining it. My health began to give way,
sleepless nights, weary days made me contemplate suicide. It seemed as
if I never could have happiness again, yet my physical forces, or
so much of them as lay in my generative organs, seemed unimpaired. I
neither drank nor debauched, and my prick stood incessantly; neither
random frigs nor night-dreams stopped it.

My only relief from misery was in thinking over the pleasures I had ha