Dear Sir, - I notice that you will welcome more letters from readers; and as the long-hair, mac and wrestling fraternity have had good innings lately, I thought you might like a few reminiscences from a one-legged reader of "London Life"
To start at the beginning, I have been minus a left leg since I was six years old, and now hardly remember in my twenty-fourth year, what it would be like having both limbs again.
My parents were poor and kind friends got me in a Crippled Girl's Home outside London. I arrived there on my crutches, and found there about twenty other girls with various deformities, and amongst them three other girls with single legs, who were nicknamed "The Amps" - short, I suppose, for amputation.
There were also two one-armed girls and one with only a single leg and arm; but I was the only one minus a left leg.
We soon became great friends and used to be highly amused at the startled glances of strangers to see four girls romping about with only four legs between them.
Of course we had to work in various ways, making artificial flowers, etc., to help the Home and occasionally had stalls at shows and exhibitions, where some of us were sent to sell the goods; and I always remember that we one-legged or one-armed girls could do best at this, because I suppose people pitied us as we cleverly hopped about, and probably bought for that reason.
My particular pal was Elsie, who was older than myself, and I always remember her taking my crutches away to tease me, and leaving to hop or crawl across the big lawn at the back of the Home. Every time I fell down, the others clapped and roared with laughter and called, "Go it, Amp!"
I often wished I had some snaps of us girls, when we were romping together.
Well, when I was 17 I left the home, as my mother had taken a small draper's shop in the suburbs and could employ me for alterations and sometimes to serve in the shop.
I was now able to dress smartly and wear pretty frocks and hats; and one of my first purchases was a lovely slender pair of French crutches in polished black, and a smart patent Court shoe for my one remaining foot. I was, I think, quite good looking when dressed and made up a bit; and with my one crutch I began to take quite an interest in being one-legged because I noticed that certain boys were attracted to me by this, and used to try to get to know me.
About this time my mother persuaded me to be measured for a pin leg; and although I often wore it, I never liked it. Still, I could walk quite well with it, and rather enjoyed people's stares as I tapped along on my one shoe and wooden leg.
My friend Elsie had now left the Home and got a job as typist at an insurance office not far from us, so we renewed our acquaintance and eventually she left her digs and came to live with us, sharing my bedroom.
I don't think we thought ourselves as cripples, and were certainly not shy of our maimed condition. Of course two well-dressed girls together with a single leg each, attracted a lot of attention, but our most daring exhibition was when we both came out in smart slacks with our empty legs pinned up.
"What price hoppers?" Elsie laughed. "Now we'll see some fun," as we entered a smart restaurant one evening and sat down at a table our crutches resting against a chair
Elsie was in one of her don't care moods: She suddenly rose and, crutchless, hopped down the room to the bar at the end and ordered a drink. This was a direct challenge, so I hopped down after her, and we balanced ourselves against the counter. People actually stood up to see us, and nearly clapped our little exhibition whilst others wanted to stand us drinks or get us to sit at their tables.
"Did you ever see such excitement over a couple of amputations?" whispered Elsie. "Drink up, and let's hop back before there's a riot."
We enjoyed that evening immensely, and when we went home Elsie said:
"Oh, well, it's not so bad being one-legged after all. Had we been like other girls, no one would have looked at us.
Soon afterwards I persuaded Elsie to get a pin leg, like mine, and dressed in smart costumes and furs, we went for a walk in the park together with our wooden legs tapping side by side.
It was about this time that we met two very nice boys who fell for us. Nothing could have been kinder than they were. They would rush about, and take our crutches, and admire our skill with them, and now life began to be really worth living.
Well, this letter is already too long so I must bring it to a close with a promise to resume another day, if I have the Editor's consent.
Yours truly,
Two Happy Amputees.