Quote:
It is an understandable weakness in young writers and a deplorable propensity in famous ones, to become personally verbose at the expense of the story. Both classes talk too much themselves and let their characters talk too little. Compton Mackenzie, who long ago won his laurels with "Sinister Street" and "Carnival," is unfortunately indulging himself in the prerogative of fame. In "Vestal Fire" he has a good story to unfold. It is a study in the disintegration of a colony of Americans and Europeans on a pleasant island in the Bay of Naples, brought about by the intrusion of an exotic French nobleman with Hellenic ideas. The book is worth reading, because Compton Mackenzie wrote it. Even at his worst there is a remarkable glamour about his style. But he very nearly ruins it by his tendency to write as though the story were being read aloud, while he stood by and interposed comments on the plot and added characterizations of the people in the story, of his own. With a classical island for a setting, the story is garlanded in classical quotations and allusions, but though the theme is itself rather classical, the point of view and the manner of telling are entirely British. Sirene is an island owned by Italy, which has gradually become a social league of nations, as foreigners who came to it for a week or two in the course of their travels have stayed on and settled, building themselves villas according to their means, with such flowery names as the Villa Decamerone, the Villa Amabile, the Villa Paradiso, the Villa Hylas, or the Villa Parnasso. English, French, Russians, Americans and Italians to varying degrees, they are living together in harmony when the story opens. In fact, the polite population of the island is about to honor a custom which has become a rite: Sunday afternoon tea at the Villa Amabile, the home of the Pepworth-Nortons. It is about the Pepworth-Nortons that the story revolves, and all the storms and stresses that are to come. There are two kindly spinsters, Miss Virginia Norton and Miss Mamie Pepworth-or perhaps it is the other way around-who have bracketed their names and devoted the afternoon of their lives after a long morning in Idaho to dispensing hospitality in Sirene. It is something more accurate than a figure of speech to say that the name of their friends is legion. The book is practically teeming with characters, and each one is portrayed at length. Mr. Mackenzie seems to have collected the acquaintances of a lifetime in this book. Whenever a new person is introduced to the story he pauses and delivers himself of a short biography of that person. These characterizations are written with the bright wit of malice and some of them are rather entertaining. But there are too many. Count Marnac, who is the villain of the piece, comes to Sirene at the invitation of the Pepworth-Nortons, who met him and were charmed by his gracious manners while on a classical pilgrimage. Every one on the island who is of any importance has been apprised of his coming. They have heard that he is extremely wealthy and charming. So they are all there to meet him at the Pepworth-Nortons. He is an instantaneous success on the island, from the moment of his arrival, accompanied by a handsome boy named Carlo-whose place in the story assumes a questionable aspect, soon enough. Count Marsac decides that he will live in Sirene. He will build himself a villa and meantime he will live in a rented one. There he gives elaborate entertainments of the most exotic sort, while the magnificent Ville Hylas is being built for him. Then, gradually, the poison in the story begins to work. There are stories about Marsac's androgynous propensities. Sirene is tolerant, though, and nothing is done. But other forces of dissension are at work. Some one discovers that the Count has a past. And the outcome is that Sirene is divided forever into two warring camps. As the years go on, the conflict becomes more and more bitter. It is a long conflict, beginning more than a decade before the war and lasting through it.

   

Quote:After he had lain quiet for a little while, I felt his somewhat attenuated weapon slip out of me. He then turned himself round, presenting his buttocks to me and, still keeping his hold on my member which he had maintained during all his raptures, he gently drew me round also, nothing unwilling, and presenting his captive at the entrance to its destined prison, he opened the lips of his orifice as much as he could, and tried to get him in.

I was amused and delighted with his eagerness about it, but fearful of hurting him, I did not attempt to force my way in, until he asked me why I did not assist him in getting it farther in. I said simply because I was afraid that, as he had not tried it before, I might hurt him the first time, but that if he would allow me to try, I would endeavour to do it with as little suffering to him as possible. He at once told me to do anything I liked, that he could not expect me to allow him to enjoy himself within me again unless he reciprocated the pleasure and that he would willingly suffer any amount of pain to be permitted again to taste the delight he had already felt. I was in no way averse to take him at his word and accordingly set to work. As he gave me every facility, I was enabled with the aid of a little cold cream to make my way in with less difficulty than I had expected. My first penetration no doubt hurt him a little, but he bore it manfully and urged me to proceed till, to my infinite delight, I was fairly lodged within him up to the hilt. The avenue was as tight and delightful as possible, but it was of that charming elasticity which yielded sufficiently to admit the invader, and at the same time pressed upon him with that degree of force which occasioned the most consummate voluptuous gratifications. As soon as I was fairly in, all annoyance seemed fairly at an end and, judging from the rise of his thermometer which I held in my hand, there succeeded an increase of the pleasure heat which I had hardly anticipated. The result was that eagerly availing himself of the lessons I had given him, he set to work so deliciously and exerted himself so much to promote my pleasure that in spite of my efforts to prolong the enjoyment, he drew down from me in a very few minutes the first flow that had saturated his virgin premises.

After some little fondling of each other he again wished to repeat the operation. I told him I was afraid of his exerting himself too much, and proposed that we should put it off till morning, but he would not be satisfied with this, and urged me to comply by appealing to an argument the strength and beauty of which I could not withstand. Again this fascinating charmer was plunged into my interior with the same lascivious results and again I was rewarded for my compliance by the full enjoyment of his delicious charms, and after we had each thus attained again to the height of felicity we fell asleep locked in a close embrace.

   

Quote:Mrs Hansford will send my sketchbook to Old Fremantle on the next camel train. It has become tattered from our constant packing but I have done my best to keep it safe. I have another to replace it, a generous gift from Mrs Hansford. If it arrives before our return, please open it, Mother. You have my blessing. No doubt our Tommy will have a thousand questions and I have made notations to accompany each sketch. (For your sanity, Mother and for peace and quiet if nothing else.)
Please tell our Annie that she is ever my little sister, and our Rebecca that Donal is a fine companion. Tell our Tommy that he has a kind and generous heart, and our Meg and James to name their child Emilia. When our Robert is alone, please tell him that I could not wish for a better friend or brother.
To you, my dear mother, do not worry. I have five men in our company who fuss as you do and keep my feet planted firmly on the ground.
Your loving son
William