Anonymous - Pearl

"Hark!" said Alf, "what is that! A carriage, as sure as I live, it must be father. Look, Steve, from the window, who is it?"

Steve looked out.

"It is an old gentleman coming up the garden walk, Alf. Is that your father?"

Alf peered out.

"Yes."

"Then for heaven's sake don't let him see me, I must disguise myself. I cannot stop now to tell you how, but something must be done to destroy my identity or I am done for. Quick, Letty, you go down and meet your father; Alf and I will join you presently!"

Letty soon disappeared, though burning with curiosity. She was docile and did as she was bidden.

"Now, Alf," said Steve, "you're guv'nor saw me in the railway carriage fucking a lovely girl, but as I was having her backwards and she was disguised as a sailor — a tale hangs to it but I can't tell you now — I expect he thought I was doing a bit of backdoor work and as he may be a particular old boy he must not know me again."

Steve was a young man of decision. Although it cost him a sigh, his beautiful whiskers were soon sacrificed. His tact and skill soon changed his whole appearance and when he descended to join Letty and Mr. Nugent, but for a sign from Alf, Letty would not have known him. Much less did Mr. Nugent recognize the bold fucker of the railway.

That's how Steve lost his whiskers.

A curious sequel hangs to the story.

After dinner, when the gentlemen were alone, the old gentleman began:

"A very curious circumstance happened to me this morning when in a railway-train. I happened accidentally to look through the window of the compartment and saw a young man actually in the act of indecency with a midshipman; the rascals escaped by locking me in the carriage. However, in the carriage he had left, the young villain dropped a book. I took charge of it; as I had no spectacles I did not look close at it but as it doubtless contains some clue to the rascal, look at it for me."

Steve saw in a moment it was The Pearl; but knowing no clue to his identity was in it, he just glanced at it, handed it back, advising old Nugent to look at it more closely in the privacy of his chamber.

The old chap retired presently for his afternoon nap, taking the book with him, and soon after they heard peals of laughter from his room. Then he was heard walking up and down and soon his voice was heard calling Patty, his favourite servant.

Alf and Steve peeped through the keyhole after she had entered the room and saw him reading passages from the book. Then taking her in his arms he laid her on the bed, and raising his shirt-tail, he displayed his prick, stalwart and strong. In a few moments it was lodged in her creamy cunt. And both Steve and Alf were convinced that the old boy knew the way there.

In the evening old Nugent called Letty and Steve, joined their hands and said: "Bless you my children! A delightful little work I have been reading today has put fucking in such a beautiful light that I at once give you my consent to commence it as soon as possible. I have quite altered my opinion about that young fellow I saw and am convinced that to give his prick a treat is the first duty of every man at all times. I propose now that your nuptials shall be celebrated by a glorious fucking tournament."

This was done. Happiness was the lot of them all that evening.

Old Nugent never found out Steve's escapade. He died soon after and left them a heap of money, and so amorous was the old boy to the last that they had to send for the servant to toss him off, before they could get the lid on the coffin.

Kate married and is quite happy and I long to see Steve and have another laugh with him over: "How he lost his whiskers."

The ladies in America have taken to dabbling on the Stock Exchange.

The following telegrams passed between two lady friends and rather puzzled the telegraph officials.

"Dear Louise, a bull here has a large concern for which he is anxious to find an opening. Can you accommodate him?"

The reply was:

"I cannot at present as my monthly settlements are on, but if the bull can keep it standing for a week, I have no doubt I can find a vacancy for it."

Q. — When is a newly married lady like the Victory at Trafalgar?

A. — When her cock-pit is full of bloody semen.

THE NOVICE.

A pretty little novice in her convent woke at dawn,

And looking from her lattice she spied upon the lawn,

A handsome shepherd quite intent

On playing with his instrument, his instrument so long!

She raised the window softly and watched him for a while,

Delighted with his movements, then asked him with a smile:

"Oh shepherd, pray, my wish consent,

And say what is that instrument, that instrument so long?

You play with it so nicely, it gives me joy to see,

So dear, I implore you, to teach the same to me;

Oh, kind young shepherd, pray consent,

I'll finger well your instrument, your instrument so long!"

He looked up to her lattice with pleasure in his eye,

And cried: "Come down, fair maiden, for there you are too high,

Far, far too high for the extent,

That I can stretch my instrument, my instrument so long."

She tarried not a moment, but swiftly rushed below,

And with the handsome shepherd she learned her lesson so

That soon she played most excellent

Fantasies on his instrument, his instrument so long!

The first sweet lesson over for her too fast, she then

In winning tones addressed him: "I'd like to play again."

Once more her fingers to work went,

Which made him use his instrument, his instrument so long!

But strangers seemed approaching, the fair girl bid him fly,

And cried: "Oh, don't forget me, whene'er you travel by,

Oft, oft, come back, and we'll invent

Fresh tunes for that dear instrument, that instrument so long!"

A GENTLEMAN'S WIG.

Tune—"Derry-Down."

I sing not of despots, or slaves who submit,

Not of farmer George, Jenky, Dundas, Fox or Pitt!

My ballad's the bantling of laughter and gig,

'Tis of an old cock in a c — tified wig.

'Gainst the poll tax of Pitt this old codger did rave,

Like a felon transported, it forc'd him to shave.

"Tho' tried for my life," said th' old buck, "I'll rob

The tail of some Dolly to build a brown bob."

Near Somerset House he fell in with a tit,

And he thought for his purpose the c — tling was fit;

But when he examin'd her parts; d'ye see,

All the hair of her c — t wouldn't make a toupee.

The same night he picked up a merry-ars'd wench,

The hair-quantum stuff of the wise-wig'd bench;

Whilst on her back, sleeping as fast as a top,

He with keen cutting scissors her c — t made a crop.

Away went the thief, and the barber received,

The booty, for which a final caul he had weav'd;

But strange! whilst old razor the wig had in hand,

The pole in his breeches did constantly stand.

Well pleas'd with his plight, Razor laid by his work,

And lather'd the beard of his wife like a Turk.

"Keep the wig," said she, "love, don't expose it for sale.

'Tis bob for your head and a bob for my tail."

The wig frizz'd and curl'd, closely shav'd Codger's nob;

Away went the barber to try on the bob;

But the box waxing warm, Codger's passions did rise,

Which brought tears in his breeches instead of his eyes.

In rampant condition he flew to a fair,

And perchance met the Dolly he'd robb'd of her hair;

She whipp'd off the wig, cloth'd his parts with the caul,

So in went his dry bob, and wet bob, and all.

Now we know to be true what anatomists state,

That the fountain of love is supplied from the pate;

'Twas the jasey provoking, sirs, mark what I say,