During this first year of abuse, I felt no ill effects whatsoever, although I realized, in an unthinking way, that I was doing wrong.  But sexuality had assumed the proportion of a regular feature of our school life.  It was difficult for me to place a “universal” view in its true perspective.  I used to smile at the glazed, dull morning eye of poor H., who was a stunted boy of 15, and thus could not endure his losses so well as I could endure them.  The qualms of conscience which I suffered were lost in my delight in my dawning sexual life.  Sometimes I lay on my stomach in bed, and by placing my hand under my scrotum, according to the directions of J., brought up a pretty girl to mind.  Just before Sunday school G., our chief reprobate, and the rest of us would hunt out what we considered to be nasty texts of Scripture.  The chapter concerning the whoredoms of Aholah and Aholibah gave me an especial pleasure.  T. mentioned the giggling that occurred at prayers in the lower dormitory when the details of Esau’s birth were read out.  A few days before G. was expelled—­for exactly what cause I do not know—­he told me of how greatly he enjoyed coitus on his grandmother’s sofa with a girl of fifteen.  When I went home on the boat for holidays I noted the large, black-haired penis of the strong boy of our school.  He occupied a state-room with me, but made no sexual overtures.

Since my twelfth year I had been wrapped up all summer long in a boy who was six months my senior.  We slept together constantly, but not once did we think of obtaining mutual gratification.  On the contrary, we held up high ideals to each other and frowned on masturbation.  I took delight in saying that I never had handled myself, and never would do so.  Even at the height of my “auto-erotic” period, I skillfully concealed my habits from all my boy friends.  A neurotic solo choir boy friend once spoke of obtaining ejaculation, whereupon I expressed utter ignorance of such an act, little hypocrite that I was.  This boy told how the house servants joked with him about coitus and made laughing lunges at his organs.

But much as I loved my chum, my most passionate regard went out in my thirteenth year to N., a chubby, blue-eyed, choir-boy of 12.  He was a pretty boy to any eye.  He was not gifted, except in water-sports, and anything but popular either with girls or with boys; yet I grew warm at the mention of his name.  He did not care a fig for me.  From first to last I had no consciousness of the sexual nature of my passion, and the thought of doing more than embrace and kiss him in an innocent manner never crossed my mind.  For two summers I had nights of tossing on my bed (although I almost never was sleepless for any cause) when I would see his dear face and form, in and out of the swimming pool, or engaged perhaps in singing or in showing his beautiful teeth.  I seldom was smitten with little girls, and I found myself embarrassed