Owing to my brothers being much older
than myself I was thrown into the society of my sister. Till 8
years old she was my chief playmate. With her I played with dolls
and abandoned myself wholly to the delights of an imaginary land
which was much more real to me than the world around me. I never
remember learning to read, but at 5 the _Arabian Nights_ and
Kingsley's _Hereward the Wake_ were my favorite books. Living in
the country the society of other children was difficult to
obtain. My whole affections centered in my father, my mother
having died when I was a child. This affection for my father was
rather a morbid passion which absorbed my life. I dared not leave
his side for fear of a final separation from him. I would wake
him when asleep to see if he still lived. To this day, though he
died twenty-six years ago, his memory haunts me.
"My first abnormal desires were connected with him. I had seen
him occasionally micturating in the garden alleys or out in the
country. These occasions excited me terribly, and I would, if
possible, wait till he had gone, and touch the humid leaves,
drawing a terrible pleasure from the contact.
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