Anonymous - The Oyster, Volume III

'So smiling is good for you not just because it makes you feel better but it is actually beneficial regarding body chemistry?'

'Precisely, Teddy. I think I will ask Father if we can come up to town next week to hear Professor McChesney lecture at the Aeolian Hall.' 'Is he speaking about smiling?' 'Indirectly perhaps,' said Cecil. 'The lecture is entitled “On Natural Relief of Piles”. No doubt anyone who is relieved will smile quite broadly afterwards!'

The roads were quite busy as many people had decided to spend the very pleasant afternoon taking the air in Regents Park. Inside the park, the air was strangely still and I was reminded of the lovely words of Goethe we had been diligently studying at Cockshall Manor under the stern guidance of Herr Grossputz. I can still recite much of Goethe's verse from memory. Despite the prejudice against a sometimes guttural tongue, I believe that German can sometimes sound as melodic as the Latin languages. Anyway, the words that came into my mind are from Wanderers Nachtlied: Uber alien Gipfein Ist Ruh, In alien Wipfeln Spurest du Kaum einen Hauch;

Die Vogelein schweigen im Walde. Warte nur, balde Ruhest du auch. I will translate for those of my readers unfamiliar with German: O'er all the hill-tops Is quiet now, In all the tree-tops Hearest thou Hardly a breath; The birds are asleep in the trees: Wait; soon like these Thou too shall rest. But I was rudely awakened from my reveries by my brother who suddenly grabbed hold of my right knee and hissed: 'Hell's bells, Teddy! See what I've found!' 'What is it?

I asked a little irritably. 'Have you left something behind at the Club? 'No, no, no. It's what I've picked up there, young fellow-me-lad.' 'Not a sore prick or worse,' I suggested facetiously. 'Not that either,' rejoined Cecil. 'But I did pick up something at Maison Alfred all right. Look, Teddy, you see this newspaper that I took from the hall table. Well, I didn't actually ask Soames if I could take it as he was busy hailing a cab for us. Anyhow, I decided that the gentleman who had purchased the paper would hardly miss it and in any case he would in all probability want to buy a later edition. 'But the chap who left it out in the hall has left a letter inside the paper and it's pretty hot stuff, I can tell you.

Would you like to read it? It's addressed to a Miss Kitty Easthouse from-My God, Teddy! It's from our Uncle Arthur!!!! Our Uncle Arthur was a respected lawyer who had only recently been appointed one of Her Majesty's judges in the High Court. What was Uncle Arthur doing at Maison Alfred-as if we didn't know! 'Be sure your sin will find you out, Reverend Shackleton would say,' said Cecil. 'Funny though, I thought that Uncle Arthur was only keen on polo especially as Aunt Philothea has a figure roughly approximate to a pony's backside.'

'Well, he wasn't about to play a chukka at Maison Alfred.' I commented. 'The old devil! Mind, it might be useful to tackle him about it if we ever find ourselves in trouble with the law! Anyway, let me read it.' With a guffaw Cecil passed over the closely written sheets. 'What a twerp to keep such an intimate letter inside your newspaper.' 'He has simply put it there prior to posting it,' I said. 'I know,' said Cecil. 'Let's post it for him!' 'That is very kind of you.' 'Not really, Teddy, as I aim to compose a rather interesting post-script.' 'What on earth do you mean?'

'Wait, we're almost at Sir Lionel's. I'll tell you about my plan as soon as possible.' Cecil paid off the cab and we knocked on the door of Sir Lionel's rather grand house which was situated off Avenue Road at the North end of Regent's Park. His butler, Denis, answered the door and informed us that we were expected. He showed us into a beautifully decorated drawing room. We did not have to wait long before Sir Lionel and Father came in from the library. After exchanging greetings, Father told us that we were to be given an extra treat. 'I am going home now and must leave shortly to catch the six o'clock train. But Sir Lionel has generously suggested that you two boys might like to stay over in London tonight. He has tickets for the theatre which he cannot use and rather than let his box be empty, he is offering it to you.' 'How kind of you, Sir Lionel. Teddy and I would like to thank you for your hospitality.' 'Not at all, not at all,' said the genial baronet. 'It so happens that some of your clothes are still here from your previous visit last Spring, when your dear Mama took you both to the Italian Opera. The only slight inconvenience will be that you will have to share a bedroom as my two spare rooms are being redecorated and the smell of the paint which was applied today is really quite overpowering. You'll both be far better off sharing a room-so long as neither of you snores!' 'It is good of you, Lionel,' said my Father. 'You are so fond of the theatre that I am surprised that you would miss seeing the great Charles Irving play Macbeth.' A great pity, I thought, that Sir Lionel did not patronise the music halls which at this time were just beginning in their present form, but as we were studying this play at school I knew that seeing it acted would help me pass my summer examinations cum laude. 'Well, yes, ordinarily I would most certainly attend the performance,' said Sir Lionel. 'But I have been asked to go to a lecture by Jonathan Arkley. It seems that the whole of Society is under the spell of one Professor McChesney from Manchester who is supposed to be an expert on self-healing. 'Arkley is sure that the fellow is a charlatan and plans to stand up during question time and expose him. That should be quite fun so I don't expect the evening to be all as dull as it sounds and I can see Irving tomorrow night with Lord Bracknell who is always glad to escape one of his wife's ghastly dinner parties. Lord Bracknell is a good example to show you boys why I never married.' 'McChesney will be piles of laughs!' muttered Cecil and I only just managed to keep a straight face.

After Father left, Denis showed us to our room. Fortunately, we both had full evening dress hanging in the wardrobe so we could go to the Lyceum properly turned out. At our request Denis prepared a hot bath and Sir Lionel popped his head round the door to tell us that he had written a note to the Secretary of his Club to enable us to eat there afterwards, for his cook was unwell and that we would do far better at the Savile. His carriage too was at our disposal as he would be travelling to the Aeolian Hall with Doctor Arkley. 'Here's a five-pound note for use in an emergency, plus your return railway tickets for tomorrow. I'm dining at the Travellers with Doctor Arkley who will be here any minute as we have some previous business to finish before leaving for Professor McChesney's lecture.' We wished each other a pleasant evening and after luxuriating in a hot tub and dressing myself up to the nines I felt like a real man about town. Cecil and I were sipping whisky and sodas in Sir Lionel's drawing room when Cecil produced Uncle Arthur's letter. 'You'll have a good laugh reading this, Teddy,' he said, passing the letter to me. I have kept the letter (throughout my life I have been an inveterate collector of ephemera) and so I can reproduce it in its entirety. Here it is: My Darling Kitty, How my mouth yearns for another kiss of your succulent cunney lips! The last time I buried my face in your hairy bush was so delightful that I can hardly wait for the next time! I dream of you constantly and sometimes fancy that I am back on your bed with your lovely naked bottom sitting on my face so that I can kiss and suck your pussey! At other times in my dreams you catch hold of my cock and rub it up to a fine erection, saying sweetly: 'I refuse to let you go, Mr. Pego, unless you promise to fuck me!' You cannot wonder at these dreams, sweetheart, for they are only repetitions of the facts of the day! Give my love to your beautiful cunt which I hope will be conjoined with my prick very, very soon. From your own ever devoted admirer, Arthur 'Good grief, what on earth shall we do about Uncle Arthur?” I exclaimed. 'Well, I don't suggest we should peach on him to Aunt Philothea,' said Cecil warmly. 'After all, I would imagine that she only opens her legs once a month if he's lucky.