"Any shot in the locker, Jack?" says she.
"Lots my girl," says I.
"Gold?" says she, again. "Here you are" says I, and slipped a guinea into her hand.
By this we had reached the coppice, and coming to a seat, she knelt upon it, and pulling up her duds,said laughing.
"All the sailors say I have the cleanest run, and finest counter they ever saw; so I'always take up this position."
"Damn my eyes and limbs!" says I, "all the positions are the same to me."
And I ran out my jibboom, grasping her by the hips.
She had an arse as hard as a nine pound shot, and as soft as satin; and as she guided in my yard, my belly hit against her buttocks with a noise like the flapping of a seventy-four's maintopsail in a gale of wind.
I thought her wonderfully tight, but supposed she had not been long on town. Yet, after we had been poking some time, I thrust my hand round in front…
MISSING PAGES 92-94
… forty at least, that in a month she married.
Then everything went to the devil. Captain Jackson would get drunk; Captain Jackson would beat the watch; Captain Jackson would bring strange whores into the house. He was in debt; creditors came there and dunned him. He was bully, so the men of quality, who used to go there, gave the house up. He was a gamester, and soon squandered all Phoebe's money (except, indeed, her little annuity, which he did not know of).
As for Chloe, when she saw how matters were going, she came to me, and I managed to withdraw her share in the Bagnio, Phoebe purchasing both it and her share in the freehold, and Chloe retired with a fortune of H 20,000 or more in Consols.
With Phoebe, things went on from bad to worse, her house got an ill name. The Captain mortgaged fine freehold, debts increased, the furniture was seized, and the house closed. A few days after this climax, her husband was carried to his lodgings in a dying condition, having been run through the fangs in a duel with a gentleman, whom he had insulted at a hall in St.James's the night before.
This was indeed a happy release for poor Phoebe,who although ruined by her reckless husband, was soon set up in a new house by some of her old patrons, where Chloe was only too glad to rejoin her.
Phoebe and Chloe are now the joint mistresses of the too celebrated White House in Soho, and some times honor me with their confidence, by asking my advice how to invest their rapidly increasing fortune; I am also the custodian of all their title deeds and curious correspondence, and it is their joint wish that I should some day (when they have finally retired) bring out a short memoir of their famous establishment and enlighten the world as to the " and revelries there carried on.
I am, my dear Sir,
Your faithful servant,
Reginald Randall.
Temple, 17th. August, 1742.
To Frederic Mosscock Esq,
Park Lane.