impression caused at even the early age of our acquaintance.  Not that I mean to say I never wavered in between!  Through the whole of my boyhood I remember persistent romantic interests in girls and women, whose smooth, fair faces and sweet voices exercised ever a subtle attraction over me.  Before I was 12 I had picked out my ‘future wife’ a dozen times at least! (A different one each time of course!) Curiosity as to the physical detail of sex and birth was singularly absent.  Possibly this was partly due to the fact that the only younger member of our family was born when I was but 4 years old.  Grave, shy, and reserved, I was never taken into the counsels of prurient schoolmates.  I was unaware that there was such discussion between them—­though it is, I suppose, not probable that our school was exempt.  I was a great reader, and when about 12 or 13 I came across a reference to an illegitimate child which puzzled me.  Ere long, however, in my random and extensive reading I hit on a book that touched on phallicism, and I learned that there were male and female organs of generation.  I had neither shame nor curiosity; I jumped to the conclusion that during close caresses somehow a subtle aroma arose from the man to fertilize the woman; I left the subject at this, satisfied, and had no inkling of the real intimacy of the embrace.

“About 14, much interested in Bradlaugh, I bought both the Knowlton pamphlet and Mrs. Besant’s population book.  I found the physical details in scientific language so dull that I could not peruse them.  By reading the argumentative passages I learned that somehow (I knew not how) children could be produced or not produced as desired; and in this stage of the matter it seemed to me so admirable that it should be so that I wondered why there should be cavil.

“About this age my elder brother believed it to be his duty to tell me the secrets of sex; I remember his talking to me, while I, bored and uninterested, thought of something else.  When he finished I had heard nothing.  Remember, I felt no shame on the matter—­none at all.  I was simply bored.  This I attribute to two things:  first, my preponderating interest in the romantic side of things; secondly (and this bears with it a strong moral), the feeling that the knowledge lay always within my grasp kept me from that curiosity which so oft consumes those who think it is hidden away from them.

“The changes of puberty came naturally and without startling me.  Even the fact of emissions—­which took place during sleep at intervals, unaccompanied by dreams or by any physical prostration afterward—­has left on my memory no recollection of surprise; I knew it to be somehow connected with generation, but I had no physical trouble, and I am quite sure I did not bother further about it.  The best possible proof of this lies in the fact that my memory is a blank on the matter.  At the age of 21 (I