their vocation. Futhermore, in man's natural state, fighting—next to procreating—is the pre-eminent function of the male. For this reason the war-loving man is my sexual ideal.
Arrived a short distance from the camp, I, for only the second time in my life, caught the thrilling notes of the bugle-call. It took all the strength out of my legs so that I felt as if I would fall to the ground. Since I began to associate with soldiers, the notes of the bugle have had an unearthly—I might say, an eternal, overwhelming — beauty. Subsequently to 1905, when my open career as a soldiers' mignon became a thing of the past, the buglecall has made me live that career over again in a few moments. It brings up fond memories of the many evenings spent in the long, long ago with the " mighty men of war." It fills my soul with adoration for these " mighty men of valor," these "mighty men of renown." I have sometimes been seized with a babyish cooing or gasping, and have ardently wished that I were youthful again and in the arms of one of these wonderful beings.
The effect on me of secular music in general has been to arouse reveries of my amours and paramours. I have been an unusual lover and patron of grand opera, the soprano and alto solos having an overwhelming effect particularly (because that is the manner in which I would have wished to sing). I have often been raised into sublime heights of ecstasy, generally with a sensual tinge.
Arrived at the camp, I strolled about and was soon recognized: "Hello Pretty! Where did you come from?" Filled with bliss, and thrown into my most baby-
