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I have spent many hours perusing various versions of Harris’ List of Covent Garden Ladies, which were essentially directories of the prostitutes plying their trade around London, published between 1757 and 1795 [if you want to learn more about the list, you can do no better than consulting the work of the fab @HallieRubenhold]. Imagine my delight on stumbling across this one, from 1788. Must be an ancestor. Must be.

Overall Verdict: Almost tolerable, except for the face. Charming.

Miss B–nd is a very genteel agreeable little girl, and is distinguished more by the elegancy of her dress, than the beauty of her person, which might perhaps have been ranked in the list of tolerable’s, had not the small-pox been so unkind; she is, nevertheless, a desirable well tempered piece, and one that does not degrade herself by her company or her actions; she comes into our corps, in consequence of her good keeper’s leaving England, and enlists a volunteer, in all the sprightliness and vivacity of nineteen, with beautiful auburn hair, and a pair of pretty languishing blue peepers, that seem at every glance to tell you how nature stands affected below; now will those swimming luminaries deceive you; it is ever ready to receive the well formed tumid guest, and as the external crura entwine and press home the vigorous tool, the internal crura embrace it, and presses out the last precious drops of the vital fluid, which her hand, by stealth, conveyed to the treasure bags of nature, by tender squeezings seem to increase the undiscribable rapture, at the dye away moment; in short, during her performance of the venereal rites, she is all the heart of the most inflamed sensualist can wish, or any man that has two spare guineas in his pocket, can desire.

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