You have now been launched upon your career as a manicuree. You
never get over it. You either get married and your wife does your
nails for you, thus saving you large sums of money, but failing to
impart the high degree of polish and the spice of romance noticed
in connection with the same job when done away from home, or you
continue to patronize the regular establishments and become known
in time as Polished Percival, the Pet of the Manicure Parlor. But
in either event your hands which once were hands and nothing more,
have become a source of added trouble and expense to you.

Speaking of hands naturally brings one to the subject of feet,
which was intended originally to be the theme for the last half
of this chapter, but unfortunately I find I have devoted so much
space to your hands that there is but little room left for your
feet and so far as your feet are concerned, we must content
ourselves on this occasion with a few general statements.

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