Hellfire Club No. 5: From the Hidden Archives

By Catherine Rose

The Hellfire Club established in England in 1719 had as its motto: Fais ce que tu voudras (Do what thou wilt) as the underlying principle which the libertines and philosophers of the day fully enjoyed within the club walls. For centuries the Hellfire Club has shifted in time and place but remained an active part of educated society. The club has hosted the famous and the infamous but never altered the premise that freedom of choice to do what one will as long as that is done without harm is within the purview of humanity.
The collected works of erotica have been taken from the Hellfire Club Archives, edited and some cases re-written to replace text lost to time or rot. Each volume contains a collection of short stories from the 16th to the 19th centuries.
This volume contains: The Life of Betty Compton (1930), Confessions of Old Maid Cootes (1879), Flossie in Bondage (1935), Playing with the Youthfulness of Jane (1935), Lady Pokingham (1879) and Maudie-Revelations of Life in London (1909).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catherine Rose
• Release date: Nov 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311359018

Catherine Rose

Catherine Rose is the pen name for a perverted old lady that likes to write stories inspired by her earlier days which she very much misses. Granted anything involving monsters, aliens, and horror stories are pure fiction...the rest? Not so much..

Book preview

Life of Betty Compton

There was once a very beautiful lady, lovely of her breasts, which had sweet nipples of brown, but even more lovely of her cunt, which was narrow and of exceeding tightness; howbeit she was able to take in a prick of most surprising bigness. The lovely cunt of her had also a delicious odor like as the flowers in the garden of the houris. The lady was most fond of the pleasure of love, and was but ill served by her husband, who had many wives and beside was greatly loving with a beautiful boy named Murad, whose fine bottom absorbed a large amount of the spunk from his prick, for he was indeed most passionately fond off buggering the boy.

Though the lady was jealous of Murad she had a love for him too, and longed to feel in her tight slit his fine young cock. The husband of the lad was a good natured man, and not too strict, so after much thought she said to him: Husband, you know how great love I have to you and how it joys me to have you fuck me; nevertheless is not possible for you, who are married to so many lustful women, to satisfy them all without making in danger your precious health. I wish you might poke me with your magnificent prick every day and every night, but then the others cause to complain would have. Now my husband dear, you do not object to us women amusing our- selves together and relieving our lust by rubbing cunts together until the hot juice flows out and trickles down between our legs. Now you have a beautiful boy who is to you as a wife in every way, and I gladly look upon him as such. Why then may he not be allowed the privilege of the others and be permitted to rub his organ against mine and even to penetrate it as some of the women do with their stiff clitorises?"

The man replied: Why indeed should he not? We will share his love together. I should love to see him in your arms, playing the man, and then to fuck you in his sperm. We can all have sport together. I shall send for you tonight and you shall have your first taste of his vigor.

That night the husband sent for the lady. Murad was present, a beautiful boy of fourteen. The man stripped the much loved boy. The woman made herself naked. Soon the lad was upon her and his fine slim prick buried in her twitching cunt. The man watched them, well pleased. He took out his tool and stretching the boy’s little hole with his fingers plunged it into his bowels. He drove mightily at each stroke, sending the boy the full length into the woman’s below. At length Murad received the hot juice of his spunk squirted into the woman’s womb. Then each cock is taken out. The man on his back in her cunt, and Murad taking his place behind her bottom. The woman thus attacked behind and before experiences the great delight until she is well drenched by the discharge of her two lovers at the same time.

After this the lady ceased to complain of neglect, for Murad was always willing to give her relief with his pretty tool, and her husband loved her more when they shared the love of the boy.

This is but a sample of the little charge translated from the Arabic or Turkish. Beside these tales, which are in common circulation among the people and which even the children hear, it will be seen that the unexpurgated Arabian Nights are as English nursery tales, and even the Scented Garden, the Book of Exposition and the Old Man Young Again sink into significance.

Take notice of what is said about Murad. Such boys are common among the Turks. All the wealthy men keep them. My little pupil told me about it, and says it is such an ancient custom that it will never be done away, as long as there are any Mussulmen. He told me that his father had five boys at the present time, and had had many others. When they got to be to about sixteen he would replace them with younger boys, and he handed over six of them to Bush and Pasha as soon as they were old enough. At the time of which my young pupil and was promoted to the next vacancy.

In speaking of these things Eddine told me that his tutor Tushan was always trying to get him to commit acts of sodomy with him, and was always feeling his bottom and taking hold of his cock and begging him to feel his. He told me that sometimes he complied when Tushan begged very had and taking in his hand, frigged him till spent. But he said the fellow had such a tremendous tool that he was afraid of it and wouldn’t let him bring it near his bottom.

At least, he added with a smile. Not till I am considerably bigger than I am now.

While Eddine was telling me this he was sitting beside me. I put my arm about him and slipping the disengaged hand into his trousers, took hold of his cock. It was standing up bravely, and was of a very respectable size for a little chap. His smiling face sowed plainly that my freedom was very acceptable and it is difficult to say to what lengths I might not have preceded with the boy we had not been interrupted. The boy’s mother, who is Pasha’s favorite wife, had sent for me, and I had to go.

I was in a very excited state from the talk I had just had with my young charge, and my blood was fired by my all too fleeting touch of his penis. I saw not wanted for anything important, and the matter for which I was sent was attended to. I saw, however, that the lady was out of humor about something, and upon my asking if I could do anything to please her, she replied, No; I am provoked about those horrid boys. The Pasha will always keep them about, and they are insolent; they always need correction. They put on all the airs of sultana-. Just as if I didn’t have as fine a bottom as any of them, if the Pasha wants to shove his cock up the back way.

I saw where the trouble lay. It was merely a case of Jealousy, a sense of charms slighted for another’s.

Yes, she continued, I must punish one of them now. Just wait and see the brazen little son of a bitch.

She rang a gong, and a very pretty Albanian boy of about fourteen appeared.

She began to scold him and then ordered him to strip. He was soon naked, and she made him lie face down on a divan with his feet resting on the floor. She began to beat him with a little strap, but so gently that she could not have hurt him, though his boyish buttock grew pink this jealousy, and whether it was not under the blows. I began to wonder if the cause of this punishment was entirely jealousy, and whether it was not combined with a large share of desire to gaze upon the firm, smooth nakedness of this attractive boy.

He made no opposition and was quite passive under the strokes, only swaying his hips and wriggling his bottom a little. Finally she stopped her chastisement, and turning to me said. Just look at this impudent boy’s bottom that cheats us women of our dues. Feel that brown hole that sucks up the soothing balm that ought to quench our fires.

I felt the firm cheeks of the boy’s burn and then ran a finger very easily into his hole. While I was thus engaged the Pasha’s wife for some reason or other left the room. The boy turned over on his back and I had a good view of his pretty, stiff cock, just shaded with the beginning of a manly down. He must have seen my desire in my eyes. Neither of us could speak the other’s language, but my eyes must have showed the lust that I felt. He stood up and displayed his beautiful stiff tool, which talked the best of French. He played with it one hand and began to raise my skirts with the other. I made no opposition, and allowed him to push me back on the couch with my skirts thrown up about my waist. I motioned him to take off my drawers, which he did in an instant.

Then with one bound the pretty naked boy was upon me. He pushed his cock at the first jab between the soft lips of my cunt, which I held open for him, and with one vigorous shove of his young hips buried half of his shaft. His beautiful flushed face was just above mine, and drawing his head down to my mouth I sucked in his fragrant lips. Another heave and his warm belly lay firmly pressed to mine.

We were just on the point of melting in a mutual discharge of love’s juices when the Pasha’s wife entered, followed by another boy about the same age as my companion. He was a very good-looking Ethiopian, another of the Pasha’s favorites, and had been stripped naked, evidently preparatory to receiving such a whipping as had been given to my young lover.

The two newcomers stopped and watched us. They both began to laugh. At that moment both the ardent boy on the top of me, and I thrilled with a sudden mutual

ejaculation of burning sperm which wet the roots of his prick and his balls as it ran down, because my cunt was too large to be filled by his penis.

As we lay languidly clasped in each other’s arms after this orgasm, the black boy, who proved to be very strong for his age, came up to us and with a mighty lift turned us both over.

He threw himself upon my back and I felt his hard tool battering at my arse hole. I felt his cock slipping in further and further, deeper and deeper, until it seemed to probe my very vitals. The vigorous cocks, the black one and the white, separated only by a thin membrane, seemed to be rubbing their heads together within me. At length the boy deluged my bowels with his hot sperm. Thrilled with the greatest ecstasy of bliss as I thus doubly drenched by the gushing ejaculations of my two little lovers, I melted in a long and thrilling spend.

After this the Pasha’s wife, whose lust had been greatly aroused by this scene, forgot her resentment against the boys and insisted upon both of them performing on her a task to which neither objected.

First the little black fucked her while the Albanian ran his prick up her bottom. Then they changed places, and while the Albanian fucked the Pasha’s wife, whose cunt oozed with the sperm of the little black, and added his own contribution of love’s liquor to the already well-stocked sheath, he received in his bottom a like discharge from the little negro.

Following this nothing would do the Pasha’s wife but she must taste the pleasure of sodomy. Accordingly, getting on her hands and knees, she presented her fine buttocks for the attack. The first attempt was made by the Albanian, but his boyish tool had already accomplished considerable, and was with difficulty made stiff enough for the purpose. Taking the pretty thing in my mouth I sucked it gently, and softly rubbed the little balls in their tight bag. At length the shaft stood with a fair amount of rigidity, and the boy shoved into the waiting sheath and managed to effect a final ejaculation. Meanwhile the little negro had taken his place in front of the woman, and had fastened his sucking lips to her cunt, and when she discharged her precious liquor he must have swallowed it mingled with his companion’s and his own.

When he had sipped the last drop of the nectar he took his place behind the woman, from whose bottom the shrunken prick of the other boy had slipped. A negro's penis never attains the hardness reached by other races, and he was almost as stiff as ever and easily entered the narrow way already oiled for him. The Albanian took his place at the lady’s cunt and sucked her to a further emission just as the fine prick in her arse shot out a very creditable flow of amorous balm.

After this the two boys were completely played out, and were allowed to depart, their two pricks, one very pink and both very damp and limp, hanging

down soft and shrunken between their thighs. But surely this was no disgrace, for they had done noble service, and well deserved the holiday they demanded.

The next day I told Eddine what had happened to me with his mother and the two boys, and he was very much amused by it. He told me that Tushan had been very pressing again that they should let him bugger him.

But. said the boy, I was afraid of his big tool. But he seemed to want it so much that finally I jerked him off, and he sent out a great jet of thick sperm. After this he begged me to let him bugger me, but I still refused. Then he asked me to let him throw off between my thighs. I didn’t see any objection to this. It couldn’t hurt me, and he seemed to be crazy to do it. But I told him he would have to do it facing me, belly to belly, for I was afraid to turn my bottom toward him lest he should force an entrance in spite of me We took off our trousers and rolled up our shirts. I lay down and he got on top of me just as if I had been a girl, only he stuck his tool between my thighs and pushed it up tight against my crotch. Then he began to work back and forth. My own little cock was very stiff, and had the funniest tingling sensation in it as it was rubbed between our bellies, I was quite taken up by this strange new feeling, when his spunk, which fairly drenched all between my legs and the inside of my thighs. When he stopped in my cock and didn’t come back again. What do you suppose it was?

My dear Eddine, I said, though you are very young, it must be that you are becoming a man and that your sexual juices were bubbling up and seeking an outlet. Have you ever been able to throw off when you have been playing; with your cock?

No, never.

Well, let me rub your darling penis and we will see if I can make it squirt its juice.

THE END

MISS COOTE'S CONFESSION: in a series of Letters to a Lady Friend.

LETTER I.

My Dear Girl,

I know I have long promised you an account of the reason of my penchant for the rod, which, in my estimation, is one of the most voluptuous and delicious institutions of private life, especially to a supposed highly respectable old maid like your esteemed friend. Treaties must be carried out, and promises kept, or how can I ever hope for the pleasure of making you taste my little green tickler again.

Writing, and especially a sort of confession of my voluptuous weakness, is a most unpleasant task, as I feel as shamefaced in putting these things on paper as when my grandfather's housekeeper first bared my poor blushing little bottom to his ruthless attack. My only consolation at commencing is the hope that I shall warm to the subject as it progresses, in my endeavor to depict, for your gratification, some of the luscious episodes of my early days.

My grandfather, as you well know, was the celebrated Indian General, Sir Eyre Coote, almost as well known for his eight-penny fiasco with the Bluecoat boys as for his services to the Hon. E. I. Company. He was a confirmed martinet, and nothing delighted him so much as a good opportunity for the use of the cat, but I cannot tell you anything about that, as that was before my time. My first recollection of hint is after the aforesaid City scandal, when he had to retire from public life in comparative disgrace. My parents both died when I was just upon twelve years of age, and the old General, who had no other relatives to care for, took entire charge of me, and, at his death, I was left his sole heiress and mistress of nearly £3,000 per annum.

He resided in a quiet country house some twenty miles from London, where I spent the first few months of my orphaned life, with only his housekeeper, Mrs. Mansell, and the two servants, Jane and Jemima. The old General being away in Holland searching, so I afterwards heard, for original editions respecting the practices of Cornelius Hadrien, a curious work on the flagellation of religious penitents by a father confessor.

It was the middle of summer when he returned, and I soon found the liberty I had been enjoying considerably restricted. Orders not to pluck the flowers, or the fruit in the garden; and a regular lesson set me every day by the old autocrat himself. At first they were tolerably simple, but gradually increased in difficulty, and now, in after years, I can plainly understand his wolf and lamb tactics, by which I must eventually fall under his assumed just displeasure.

What gave me considerable pleasure at this time was his decided objection to mourning, or anything at all somber in my dress. He said my parents had been shown every possible respect by wearing black for months, and I must now be dressed as became a young lady of my good expectations.

Although we scarcely ever received company, and then only some old fogy of his military acquaintance, I was provided with a profusion of new and elegant dresses, as well as beautiful shoes, slippers, drawers, and under-linen, all trimmed with finest lace &c., not even forgetting some very beautiful garters, a pair of which with gold buckles, he would insist upon putting on for me, taking no notice of my blushing confusion, as he pretended to arrange my drawers and skirts afterwards, but merely to remark: What a fine figure I should make, if they ever had to strip me for punishment.

Soon my lessons began to be harder than I could fairly manage. One day he expostulated, Oh! Rosa; Rosa!! Why don't you try to be a better girl? I don't want to punish you.

But grandfather, I replied, how can I learn so much of that horrid French every day. I'm sure no one else could do it.

Hold your tongue, Miss Pert; I must be a better judge than a little girl like you.

But, grandfather dear, you know I do love you, and I do try my best. "Well, prove your love and diligence in future, or your posterior must feel a

nice little birch, I shall get ready for you," said he sternly.

Another week passed, during which I could not help observing an unusual fire and sparkle in his eyes, whenever I appeared in evening dress at the dinner table (we always dined in quiet state), and he also suggested that I ought to wear a choice little bouquet of fresh flowers in my bosom, to set off my complexion.

But the climax was approaching, I was not to escape long; he again found fault, and gave me what he gravely called one last chance: my eyes were filled with tears, and I trembled to look at his stern old face, and knew any remonstrance on my part would be useless.

The prospect of punishment made me so nervous, it was with the greatest difficulty I could attend to my lessons and the second day after, I broke down entirely.

Oh! Ho! It’s come to this has it, Rosie? said the old gentleman, nothing will do, you must be punished.

Ringing the bell for Mrs. Mansell, he told her to have the punishment room and the servants all ready, when he should want them, as he was sorry to say Miss Rosa was so idle, and getting worse and worse with her lessons every day, she must now be taken severely in hand or she would be spoiled for life.

Now, you bad girl, said he, as the housekeeper retired, go to your room and reflect upon what your idleness has brought to you.

Full of indignation, confusion, and shame, I rushed to my chamber, and bolted the door, determined they should break the door down first before I would submit to such a public exposure, before the two servants; throwing myself on the bed, I

gave vent to my tears for at least a couple of hours, expecting every moment the dreadful summons to attend the old man's punishment drill, as he called it, but, no one disturbing me, I at last came to the conclusion it was only a plan of his to frighten me, and so I fell into a soothing sleep. A voice at the door awakened me, and I recognized the voice of Jane, as she said, Miss Rosa, Miss Rosa, you'll be late for dinner.

No dinner for me, Jane, if I'm going to be punished; go away, leave me alone, I whispered through the keyhole.

Oh! Miss Rosie, the General's been in the garden all the afternoon, quite good-tempered, perhaps he's forgotten it all; don't make him angry by not being ready for dinner, let me in quick.

So I cautiously drew the bolt, and let her assist me to dress.

Cheer up, Miss Rosie, don't look dull, go down as if nothing had happened, and most likely all will be forgotten; his memory is so short, especially if you put in your bosom this sweet little nosegay to please him, as you have never done it since he said it would set off your complexion.

Thus encouraged, I met my grandfather with a good appetite, and, as if the bitterness was past, like Agag before Samuel, little suspecting I should be almost hewed in pieces afterwards.

The dinner passed most pleasantly, for such a formal affair as my grandfather made it, he took several glasses of wine, and in the middle of the dessert seemed to contemplate me with unusual interest; at last suddenly seeming to notice the little bouquet of damask and white roses, he said, That's right, Rosa, I see you have carried out my suggestion of a nosegay at last; it quite improves your appearance, but nothing to what my birch will effect on your naughty bottom, which will soon look like one of those fine peaches, and now's the time to do it, said he, ringing the bell.

Almost distracted, and ready to faint, I rushed for the door, but only in time to fall into the arms of strong Jemima.

Now for punishment drill; March on, Jemima, with the culprit, you've got her safe; Mrs. Mansell and Jane, come on, said he to them, as they appeared in the background.

Resistance was useless. I was soon carried into a spare room I had never entered; it contained very little furniture, except the carpet, and one comfortable easy chair; but on the walls hung several bunches of twigs, and in one corner stood a thing like a stepladder, but covered with red baize, and fitted with six rings, two halfway up, two at bottom, and two at the top.

Tie her to the horse, and get ready for business, said the General, as he seated himself in the chair, to look on at his ease.

Come, Rosa, dear, don't be troublesome, and make your grandfather more angry, said Mrs. Mansell, unfastening my waistband. Slip off your dress, whilst the girls put the horse in the middle of the room.

Oh! No! No! I won't be whipped, I screamed. Oh! Sir! Oh! Grandfather, do have mercy, said I, throwing myself on my knees before the old man.

Come, come, it's no use showing the white feather, Rosa; it's for your own good. No more nonsense. Mrs. Mansell, do your duty, and let us get the painful business over; she isn't one of my stock if she doesn't show her pluck when it comes to the pinch.

The three women all tried to lift me, but I kicked, scratched, and bit all round, and, for a moment or two, almost beat them off in my fury, but my strength was soon exhausted, and Jemima, smarting from a severe bite, carried me in vengeful triumph to the dreaded machine. Quick as thought, my hands and feet were secured to the upper and lower rings; the horse widening towards the ground caused my legs to be well apart when drawn up closely to the rings at my ankles.

I could hear Sir Eyre chuckle with delight, as he exclaimed, By God! She’s a vixen, and it must be taken out of her, she's a Coote all over. Bravo, Rosie! Now get her ready quickly.

I submitted in sullen despair, whilst my torn dress and underskirts were turned up and pinned round my shoulders, but when they began to unloose my drawers, my rage burst out afresh, and turning my head, I saw the old man, his stern face beaming with pleased animation, whisking in his right hand a small bunch of fresh birchen twigs. My blood was in a boil, and my bottom tingled with anticipated strokes, especially when Jemima, pulling the drawers nearly down to my knees, gave me a smart little slap on the sly, to let me know what I might soon expect, and I fairly shouted, You must be a cruel old beast to let them treat me so.

Old beast, indeed! said he, jumping up in a passion. We'll see about that, Miss; perhaps you'll be glad to apologize before long.

I saw him stepping forward. Oh! Mercy! Mercy! Sir! I didn't mean it; they've hurt me so; I couldn't help what I said.

This is a really serious case, said he, apparently addressing the others. She's idle, violently vicious, and even insulting to me, her only natural guardian, instead of treating me with proper respect. There can be no alternative, the only remedy, however painful the scene may be to us who have to inflict the punishment, is to carry it out, as a matter of duty, or the girl will be ruined. She has never been under proper control all her life.

Oh! Grandfather, punish me any way but this. I know I can't bear it; it's so dreadfully cruel, I sobbed out through my tears.

"My child, such crocodile tears have no effect on me; you must be made to feel the smart. If we let you off now, you would be laughing at it all, and go on worse

than before. Stand aside, Jane, we can't waste any more time. So saying, he made a flourish with the rod, so as to make quite an audible whisk" in the air. I suppose it was only to clear the way, as it did not touch me; in fact up to this time, he had treated me like a cat which knows the poor mousey cannot escape, but may be pounced upon at any time.

I could see the tears in Jane's eyes, but Jemima had a malicious smile on her face, and Mrs. Mansell looked very grave, but no time was allowed for reflections; the next instant I felt a smart but not heavy stroke right across my loins, then another, and another, in rather quick succession, but not too fast for me to think that perhaps after all it would not be so dreadful as I feared; so setting my teeth firmly without uttering a word, I determined to give as little indication as possible of my feelings. All this and a great deal more flashed through my brain before six strokes had been administered, my bottom tingled all over, and the blood seemed to rush like lightning through my veins at every blow, and my face felt as my poor posteriors.

Now, you idle puss, said the General, you begin to feel the fruits of your conduct. Will you? Will you call me an old beast again? giving a harder stroke at each ejaculation.

My courage still sustained my resolution not to cry out, but only seemed to make him more angry.

Sulky tempered and obstinate, by Jove! he continued; we must draw it out of you. Don't think, Miss, I'm to be beaten by a little wench like you; take that, and that, and that, whisking me with still greater energy, concluding with a tremendous whack which drew up the skin to bursting tension, and I felt another like it would make the blood spurt forth, but he suddenly paused in his fury, as if for want of breath, but as I now know too well, only to prolong his own exquisite pleasure.

Thinking all was over, I entreated them to let me go, but to my sorrow soon found my mistake.

Not yet, not yet, you bad girl, you're not half punished for all your biting, scratching, and impudence, exclaimed Sir Eyre.

Again the hateful birch hissed through the air, and cut into my bruised flesh, both buttocks and thighs, suffering and smarting in agony, but he seemed careful at first not to draw the blood; however, I was not to escape, it was only his deliberate plan of attack, so as not to exhaust the poor victim too soon.

Bite, and scratch, and fight against my orders again, will you? Miss Rosie, you'll know next time what to expect. You deserve no mercy, the idleness was bad enough, but such murderous conduct is awful; I believe you would have killed anyone in your passion if you could. Bite, scratch, and fight, eh! Bite, will you?

Thus lectured the old man, getting warmer and warmer in his attack, till the blood fairly trickled down my poor thighs.

I was in dreadful agony at every cut, and must have fainted, but his lecturing seemed to sustain me like a cordial; besides, with the pain I experienced a most pleasurable warmth and excitability impossible to be described, but which, doubtless, you, my dear, have felt for yourself when under my discipline.

But all my fortitude could not much longer suppress my sighs and moans, and at last I felt as if I must die under the torture, in spite of the exquisite sensation which mingled with it; notwithstanding my ohs and ahs, and stifled cries, I would not ask for mercy again; my sole thoughts ran upon the desire for vengeance, and how I should like to whip and cut them all in pieces, especially the General and Jemima, and even poor tearful Jane.

Sir Eyre seemed to forget his age, and worked away in frightful excitement. Damn, won't you cry for mercy? Won't you apologize, you young hussy, he

hissed between his teeth. She's tougher and more obstinate than any of the family, a real chip of the old block. But to be beaten by the young spitfire, Mrs. Mansell, is more than I can bear. There! There! There! cried he; and at last the worn-out stump of the rod fell from his hand, as he sank back quite exhausted in his chair.

Mrs. Mansell, he gasped, give her half-a-dozen good stripes with a new rod to finish her off, and let her know that although she may exhaust an old man, there are other strong arms that can dispense justice to her impudent rump.

The housekeeper, in obedience to the command, takes up a fine fresh birch and cuts deliberately, counting, in clear voice, one, two, three, four, five, and six (her blows were heavy, but did not seem to sting so cruelly as those given by Sir Eyre). There, she says, Miss Rosa, I might have laid it on more heavily, but I pitied you this first time.

Nearly dead and frightfully cut up, although victorious, I had to be carried to my room. But what a victory? All torn and bleeding, as I was, besides the certainty that the old General would renew his attack the first favorable opportunity.

Poor Jane laughed and cried over my lacerated posteriors as she tenderly washed me with cold arnica and water, and she seemed so used to the business that when we retired to rest (for I got her to sleep with me) I asked her if she had not often attended bruised bottoms before, Yes, Miss Rosie, she replied; "but you must keep the secret and not pretend to know anything. I have been whipped myself, but not so bad as you were, although it's cruel. We all rather like it after the first time or two; especially if we are not cut up too much. Next time you should shout out well for mercy, &c., as it pleases the old man, and he won't be so furious. He was so bad and exhausted with whipping you, Mrs. Mansell was going to send for the doctor, but Jemima said a good birching would do him more good, and

draw the blood away from his head; so they pickled him finely, till he quite came to himself, and begged hard to be let off."

Thus ended my first lesson; and, in further letters, you shall hear how I got on with Jane, continued the contest with the General, my adventures at Mrs.

Flaybum's school, and my own domestic discipline since left to myself.

Believe me, Dear Nellie, Your affectionate friend ROSA BELINDA COOTE.

LETTER II.

My Dear Nellie,

To continue my tale where I left 06. Jane and I had some further conversation next morning, which, to the best of my recollection, was as follows:—

ROSA.—So, Jane, you have been whipped, have you. What was it for?

JANE.—The first time was for being seen walking with a young man coming from church. The General said I had never been, and only pretended to be religious for the chance of gadding about with young fellows, which must be checked. or I should be ruined.

ROSA.—Well; didn't you feel revengeful at being whipped for that?

JANE.—So I did, but forgot all about it in the delight I had in seeing Jemima well cut up. Oh, she did just catch it, I can tell you; but she's as strong and hard as leather.

ROSA.—"So I could forget and forgive too, if I could but cut you all up well.

I've got a good mind to begin with you, Jane, when I don't feel quite so sore."

JANE.—"Ah! But I know you