Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

sition. Inch by inch he fought his way into her burning cave of harmony : and the lady between the extreme of rapture and agony came again and again. My own lusts were now to be considered. I de- cided upon a combination. One slave had his arse closely sewn up, and a dose of croton oil adminis- tered to him : another I smeared with sugar, and rolled in an ant-heap : a third I disembowelled and forced to feed upon his own steaming guts : a fourth and fifth — man and wife — I imprisoned, to be fed upon their own children, and after upon each other, mutilating them as far as possible without de- stroying life. For my satisfaction, for the giving of these las- civious orders had all but turned my brain, I be- headed others, and plugged their windpipes with my rutilant ramrod, while the rest buggered me in turn. Not until night fell did I desist from the de- lightful sport, when my father exclaimed with a huge guffaw : By God’s bollocks, Galahad, but there is nobody to cook the dinner ! But my sister was as clever as she was beauti- ful and good. The overseers gathered a fire of sticks, and she soon had some capital nigger meat broiling. For soup she gave us some stallion jelly from her chocked-up cuckoo’s nest ; for fish the scrapings of the old negresses’ diddly-pouts made an excellent kedgeree : for entrée she did up a lot of balls, in shit sauce : also there was plenty of tripe, and some delicious sweetbread : for vegeta- bles the stomachs of our victims were as good as a Covent Garden, for they lived exclusively upon the produce of the Earth : the relev’e was a fine haunch. For sweets she passed round her own sweet straw- berry-patch : and the savoury was no less easily procured from her luscious rectum. She pissed white wine, spunked liquor, and gave us a better red than Burgundy : for by the [71]