“As an only son, and born late, I was the apple of my mother’s eye; and I have her indefatigable care to thank that I survived childhood, after having passed through all the possible diseases of children (hydrocephalus, measles, croup, small-pox, and, at thirteen, chronic intestinal catarrh that lasted a year). My mother, being herself very religious, raised me, without spoiling me, in a religious way, and implanted in me, as the guiding moral principle, an unyielding devotion to duty, which was further carried to an extreme in me by a teacher whom I still call a friend. Owing to my delicate health, my childhood, in greater part, was spent in bed; and I was thus given to quiet occupations, especially reading; and thus as a boy I came to be—if not _blasé_—premature at least. As early as eight or nine the parts of books that excited me most were those where injuries or operations that had to be endured by beautiful girls or ladies, were described. Thus I was thrown into great excitement by a story in which was pictured a maiden that had run a thorn into her foot, with a boy taking it out for her. Indeed, every time that I looked upon this picture, which was in nowise lascivious, I had an erection. Whenever possible, I went to see chickens killed; and if I had missed that, I looked at the spots of blood, and stroked the warm bodies of the birds, with pleasurable shudders. I would emphasize the fact that I have always been a great lover of animals, and have felt disgust and pity while killing larger animals, and even in the vivisection of frogs. “The killing of chickens is still a great sexual stimulus for me, and especially holding them, during which I have palpitation of the heart and precordial oppression. It is of interest that my father had a passion for binding together the hands of girls and young women.