Then we have all of us heard of the famous Miss Biffin, who lived at the
time when James Caulfield wrote his book. She went to the big fairs
round London, and had a little booth all to herself. There, on payment
of a small sum, visitors were admitted to see her sewing with a needle
held by her toes, and sewing much more neatly than many of those who
came to look at her would have been capable of doing with their fingers.
And if they paid a little extra she would draw them, roughly, anything
they wanted; or cut them out houses or dogs, or even likenesses of
themselves on paper.
Miss Biffin, it is pleasant to think, thoroughly enjoyed her life, and,
far from feeling that she was to be pitied because she had no hands, was
quite convinced that she was much superior to anybody with two.
Perhaps the most wonderful of all the 'Handless Brigade' was a man
called William Kingston, who was living in a village near Bristol in
1788. In that year a Mr. Walton happened to be staying in Bristol and
was taken to see this marvel, of whom he writes an account to his friend
John Wesley.
On the entrance of the two gentlemen into his house Kingston did not
lose a moment in giving them their money's worth. He was having
breakfast, and after inviting them to sit down, took up his cup between
his big toe and the next, and drank off his tea without spilling a drop.
After waiting till he had buttered his toast and eaten as much as he
wanted, Mr. Walton then 'put half a sheet of paper upon the floor, with
a pen and an ink-horn. Kingston threw off his shoes as he sat, took the
ink-horn in the toes of his left foot, and held the pen in those of his
right. He then wrote three lines as well as most ordinary writers, and
as swiftly. He writes out,' continues Walton, 'his bills and other
accounts. He then showed how he shaves with a razor in his toes, and how
he combs his own hair. He can dress and undress himself, except
buttoning his clothes,' which really does not sound half as difficult as
many of his other performances. 'He feeds himself and can bring both his
meat and his broth to his mouth, by holding the fork or spoon in his
toes. He cleans his own shoes; can clean the knives, light the fire, and
do almost every domestic business as well as any other man. He can make
his hen-coops. He is a farmer by occupation; he can milk his cows with
his toes, and cut his own hay, bind it up in bundles, and carry it about
the field for his cattle. Last winter he had eight heifers constantly to
fodder. The last summer he made all his own hay-ricks. He can do all the
business of the hay-field (except mowing) as fast and as well with only
his feet, as others can with rakes and forks; he goes to the field and
catches his horse; he saddles and bridles him with his feet and toes. If
he has a sheep among his flock that ails anything, he can separate it
from the rest, drive it into a corner, and catch it when nobody else
can; he then examines it, and applies a remedy to it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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