Feet, I take it, speaking both from experience and observation,
are even more trouble to us than hands are. There are still a
good many of us left who go through life without doing anything
much for our hands but with our feet it is different. They
thrust themselves upon us so to speak, demanding care and
attention. This goes for all sizes and all ages of feet. From
the time you are a small boy and suffer from stone bruises in the
summer and chilblains in the winter, on through life you're beset
with corns and callouses and falling of the instep and all the
other ills that feet are heir to.
The rich limp with the gout, the moderately well to do content
themselves with an active ingrown nail or so, and the poor man
goes out and drops an iron casting on his toe. Nearly every male
who lives to reach the voting age has a period of mental weakness
in his youth when he wears those pointed shoes that turn up at the
ends, like sleigh runners; and spends the rest of his life
regretting it. Feet are certainly ungrateful things.
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