The next in order are the Writers without Hands and the Chalkers on
Flag-stones.
A man of 61, born in the crippled state he described, tall, and with an
intelligent look and good manners, gave me this account:--
“I was born without hands--merely the elbow of the right arm and the
joint of the wrist of the left. I have rounded stumps. I was born
without feet also, merely the ankle and heel, just as if my feet were
cut off close within the instep. My father was a farmer in Cavan
county, Ireland, and gave me a fair education. He had me taught to
write. I’ll show you how, sir.” (Here he put on a pair of spectacles,
using his stumps, and then holding the pen on one stump, by means
of the other he moved the two together, and so wrote his name in an
old-fashioned hand.) “I was taught by an ordinary schoolmaster. I
served an apprenticeship of seven years to a turner, near Cavan, and
could work well at the turning, but couldn’t chop the wood very well.
I handled my tools as I’ve shown you I do my pen. I came to London in
1814, having a prospect of getting a situation in the India-house; but
I didn’t get it, and waited for eighteen months, until my funds and my
father’s help were exhausted, and I then took to making fancy screens,
flower-vases, and hand-racks in the streets. I did very well at them,
making 15_s._ to 20_s._ a-week in the summer, and not half that,
perhaps not much more than a third, in the winter. I continue this
work still, when my health permits, and I now make handsome ornaments,
flower-vases, &c. for the quality, and have to work before them
frequently, to satisfy them. I could do very well but for ill-health.
I charge from 5_s._ to 8_s._ for hand-screens, and from 7_s._ 6_d._ to
15_s._ for flower-vases. Some of the quality pay me handsomely--some
are very near. I have done little work in the streets this way, except
in very fine weather. Sometimes I write tickets in the street at a
halfpenny each. The police never interfere unless the thoroughfare
is obstructed badly. My most frequent writing is, ‘Naked came I into
the world, and naked shall I return.’ ‘The Lord giveth, and the Lord
taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’ To that I add my name,
the date sometimes, and a memorandum that it was the writing of a man
born without hands or feet. When I’m not disturbed, I do pretty well,
getting 1_s._ 6_d._ a-day; but that’s an extra day. The boys are a
great worry to me. Working people are my only friends at the writing,
and women the best. My best pitches are Tottenham-court-road and the
West-end thoroughfares. There’s three men I know who write without
hands. They’re in the country chiefly, travelling. One man writes
with his toes, but chiefly in the public-houses, or with showmen. I
consider that I am the only man in the world who is a handicraftsman
without hands or feet. I am married, and have a grown-up family. Two
of my sons are in America, one in Australia, one a sailor, the others
are emigrants on the coast of Africa, and one a cabinet-maker in
London--all fine fellows, well made. I had fifteen in all. My father
and mother, too, were a handsome, well-made couple.”