find excuse.

I was born nigh London, but have worked in a shop at Birmingham
(what you would call Manufactories, we call Shops), almost ever
since I was out of my time. I served my apprenticeship at
Deptford, nigh where I was born, and I am a smith by trade. My
name is John. I have been called 'Old John' ever since I was
nineteen year of age, on account of not having much hair. I am
fifty-six year of age at the present time, and I don't find myself
with more hair, nor yet with less, to signify, than at nineteen
year of age aforesaid.

I have been married five and thirty year, come next April. I was
married on All Fools' Day. Let them laugh that will. I won a good
wife that day, and it was as sensible a day to me as ever I had.

We have had a matter of ten children, six whereof are living. My
eldest son is engineer in the Italian steam-packet 'Mezzo Giorno,
plying between Marseilles and Naples, and calling at Genoa,
Leghorn, and Civita Vecchia.' He was a good workman. He invented
a many useful little things that brought him in - nothing. I have
two sons doing well at Sydney, New South Wales - single, when last
heard from. One of my sons (James) went wild and for a soldier,
where he was shot in India, living six weeks in hospital with a
musket-ball lodged in his shoulder-blade, which he wrote with his
own hand. He was the best looking. One of my two daughters (Mary)
is comfortable in her circumstances, but water on the chest. The
other (Charlotte), her husband run away from her in the basest
manner, and she and her three children live with us. The youngest,
six year old, has a turn for mechanics.