As men who always cut up
side
—
Horse sometimes, also cow leather,
To meet the changes in the weather.
Sheep and goats are often slain;
Both unite to make it plain
That sheep is used for lining nice,
When goat alone would not suffice;
Just so with calf as well as kid.
Some use these linen-lined,
And think it quite the best, for those
Who feel themselves refined.
Refined or not, we think it true
Our feet need some protection;
To do whate’er they have to do,
We make our own selection.
Select at all times the best we can,
Both of shoemakers as well as shoes,
This is much the better plan,
And learns us how to choose.
[p
5
]
INTRODUCTION.
The Author of the book in hand, having passed through the various scenes through which he would accompany his readers, was prompted to make this offering to the craft and the public in order to relieve his mind of the thoughts had upon the subject of making shoes, as well as to contribute something of a literary character which, in the broad range of possibilities, may become useful as a text-book, or family-book, for those who may feel interested in making or wearing shoes, and perhaps lead to something better. Realizing the imperfections and shortcomings of the human family, to some extent at least, no claim beyond that which you are disposed to put upon it is held, so that any communication will be gladly received and noted. This opportunity is also taken to express thanks for some valuable suggestions from the U. S. Bureau of Education, and others, concerning the publication of this little volume, and in its present shape you are invited to read and make the best use of it you can.
Author .
One knee the other to rest,
Has his measure taken fair,
The foot at ease is best.
The Artist views the foot,
And straightway takes the length,
By measuring it from heel to toe,
His
size
brings content.
From twelve to eighteen inches long—
This
stick
has many
sizes
;
Three to the inch is now our song,
Subject to compromises.
Some feet have long toes behind—
In the language of the
craft
;
These are not so hard to find,
And oft to us been waft.
Our Artist here will best succeed,
If a little head he can measure,
For out of that comes very much
To make the feet a treasure.
To the centre of the curve,
A leather or linen
strap
is used,
And don’t affect the nerve.
The marks on this an inch represents,
Also fractions of inch preserved;
When made complete it then presents
An appearance well deserved.
Around the heel, I’ve already said,
But that is not quite so;
For around in part and through instead
Will make it more the go.
Now let us here make up our minds,
If this trade we would study,
That the
craft
is subject to many fines
If the subject gets very
muddy
.
Be sure you get it right;
For at this place some have a treasure,
Which prompts them oft to fight.
A little
lump
we will it now call,
Not knowing the exact name of it;
Nor let our
strap
the least bit fall,
But measure just above it.
When we’ve done this, and done quite well,
Another move will follow,
Which takes us nearly on the
ball
,
And brings us from the
hollow
.
With strap in hand to take
The measure neat, near on the
ball
,
So that our
fits
won’t shake.
If they should shake the remedy comes,
A false sole we do make,
To please our subjects at their homes
The
soles
we there do take.
Onward now the way we press,
And move along just so,
Until we reach the part well known
To be the toe, the toe.
If there is any pressure,
Because they cannot easy walk,
The
shoey
missed the measure.
Just below the
ball
, across the toes,
Is where we next are found;
For there is nothing worn like
shoes
When used upon the ground.
From here we feel like soaring higher,
And soon get at the ankle,
Which must be fit to suit the buyer,
Thus avoiding any wrangle.
Measure neat and true;
If anything is noticed there,
’Twill surely be the shoe.
That notice is just what we want,
From that we get our living;
And if we make a miss on that,
It might be past forgiving.
From toe to ankle we have come,
With an uncertain height,
And with the measures we’ve put down
Will now add that right.
Some like shoes high, some low;
But to have them fit is all the same,
And this we try to show.
Some in one way, some in another,
These measures have been taken,
Until we have them all together,
We should not try to shapen.
To work now by our measure marked
Will be our constant aim;
A pattern must be cut—
To start with that is plain.
But plainer still the shoe will be
From the pattern we shall cut,
Because we think you’ll all agree
What’s opened should be shut.
The shapes are clearly seen,
A
vamp
and
quarter
, with a
tongue
,
Worked just in between.
A stiffening of
sole
has found its way,
And asks that it be shown,
In order, at some future day,
Its use might be made known.
The parts, you see, stand thus alone,
But have a close relation;
Because these parts must all be shown
To keep their proper station.
One part not seen, in shape the same,
Is
cut
and called the
lining
,
Upon which each
quarter
must be placed—
We’ll not stop here defining—
The lining a little larger,
With the
quarter
pasted on it smooth,
If not there’ll come a charger.
The
vamp
, also, has been changed,
Only one-half appears,
The cause of which can be explained
In less time than number years.
When we the lower corners take,
And match them well in fact,
The
centre
we at once do make,
Which guides the following act—
With
paste
or
cement
for sewing,
Is done with care, as in this cut,
The fitness of things is showing.
The centre mark on the vamp we’ll use,
To get the quarters placed best,
By putting the vamp upon the two,
One-half inch above to rest.
One
end
is reached, but not the last;
This
end
from
flax
or cotton
Is made by some men very fast,
If the
flax
is not too rotten.
Could all be done by standing,
Having a
board
to cut upon,
And
one
the
paste
commanding.
But now we wish the scene to change,
And begin the
ending
act;
Which comes first to him who would arrange
The
threads
, indeed, intact.
We roll the
thread
upon our
knee
,
To untwist and break with ease,
And place the
cords
, one, two, and three,
So that the points are formed, if you please.
The
thread
kept free from a knot,
We will avoid whate’er there is to bother,
While the past may be forgot.
We will let that be just as it may,
If wrong we’ll try and mend it;
For surely there will come a day
When after
awl
we’ll send it.
Twisting is quite in order;
The figure now shows us a how
To
twist
it hard and harder.
When one side is twisted hard enough,
We simply take the other,
And do the same thing over again,
So that the threads are worked together.
Before the ends are entirely free,
One thing around us lingers,
We take the thread, three or two in one,
Around our left-hand fingers.
To do what we call
milling
;
Two or three trips are sure to bring
From fingers to foot the filling.
Now our thread is very smooth,
But we try to make it smoother,
By using a piece of cloth to rub,
When done, free all together.
Something now is sought that
sticks
,
Commonly known as
wax
;
And often one gets in
a fix
When he finds it with the
tacks
.
To make our
thread
quite nice;
We catch it in the middle,
And to the end wax thrice.
Each time
waxing
briskly,
Not stopping on the way,
For if we do we’ll miss it,
And perhaps will have to stay.
Our
wax
should be in season,
Soft wax in winter use—
Hard
wax
in summer—reason,
Holding together our
shoes
.
This part should be
waxed
better,
So that the
bristle
we may take,
Shall stick like the stamp of a letter.
We’ll stop here about the thread,
To take a little whistle,
Until we find a pair to suit,
Then begin to
bristle
.
In keeping with the thread,
In this case we feel protected,
Because the
hog
is dead.
From Russia, we are told, the best bristles come,
But cannot tell you why,
The
hairs
upon our
hogs
at home
Are not so good to buy.
Will keep us to our text,
For from this you’ll no doubt see
What is coming next.
The
bristle
is
split
a little o’er half way,
In the left hand has its place,
Between the finger and thumb to play
An important part in the race.
One-half over the forefinger you see,
Held in place by the next,
The
thread
and
bristle
both agree
To be thus placed is best.
Do not
split
but roll it on,
Some have said and done,
By
waxing
the
bristle
where the other is split,
And continued from sun to sun.
As much depends on
twisting
,
The
hairy
part is left for you
To make sort of
whisting
.
Back to the scene from whence we came,
With our
end
in place to hasten,
Make a
hole
quite through the thread,
The
point
pass through and fasten.
No doubt you’ll think it strange
That needles are not used instead—
Some have tried the change.
They may be used with good effect,
In sewing through and through;
But when we use a
crooked awl
,
The
bristle
stands by true.
We thus have kept in view,
To find the middle is the thing
Now left for us to do.
Not very hard, but easy quite;
In the left hand even joints—
The right hand holding the other end,
This fills up all the points.
This time the clamps appear;
Between the
knees
they run their race,
And hold the
upper
dear.
The
vamp
and
quarters
as they were pasted,
Are seen now in their place;
The vamp extending above the clamps,
With the
quarters
easy to trace.
Begin to
sew
at extreme end;
Put left-hand
bristle
first in;
Across the
vamp
our
sewing
extend,
Two
rows
that may be seen.
The position is clearly seen
When we have this
quarter
stitched near the back,
Say half inch in between,
Pull through one thread and tie it tight,
On the inside to be left;
Begin to
sew
the other quarter,
Close at the
vamp
is right.
Another row up the front;
Sew to the
top
, ’twill be no sin,
But the doing of what is wont.
These rows, half an inch apart,
Will serve the present state,
Because now we have a splendid start,
And getting on first rate.
Then down the
front
on the other side,
To the
vamp
be sure to go;
Never allow your work to slide,
But take it out just so.
But it will be very soon;
This must never be forgot,
As it takes up part the room.
The
out-sides
together at the back are seen,
As we are about to sew
A little
strip
, put in between,
To make it stronger grow.
Down to the bottom we’ll sew the way,
Until it is complete;
Then
trim
the
seam
, and rub it well
With a
bone
found on the
seat
.
The
linings
are together;
This can be quite well arranged
By
whipping
down this
leather
.
Either whipping over and over, or through and through,
Just as the case may be;
Neither way is very new
As we may clearly see.
But we should do it, and
rub
down
flat
,
For now the time has come
When we have had enough of that,
And our
upper
is near done.
“Right-side out with care;”
A little stitching at the top of the back
Will make it look quite fair.
We stopped stitching, you remember well,
Before we reached the back,
When on the
quarters
we did dwell,
And left a vacant
track
.
Yet we do hold it fast,
Knowing that a time will come
To put it on the
last
.
Before that time is reached, however,
The
eyelets
, bear in mind,
Should each be put in proper place,
So that the
holes
we find
Will let the
strings
pass easily through,
When
punched
and
set
in straight;
We have now the
upper
for our
shoe
,
Do try and make the
mate
.
Has made it much a treasure,
For we must also have a
last
,
And fit it up to measure.
Since we have kept our seat so long,
A change may rest our back;
So at the
bench
we’ll take our stand,
Close by our friend, the
jack
.
The Bailey jack is the name of this
One, screwed down upon the
post
;
For general use it will not miss,
But serve our end the most.
Of ash, of oak, and maple;
Well seasoned is this stock of goods,
Some kinds are very staple.
Some are made with
iron plates
,
To
clinch
the screw or nail,
But when we would a peg shoe make,
To use these plates would fail.
Made, also, for men and boys,
Women and girls, for each
Has on this
art
a special claim,
Their feet to train and teach.
To dwell here longer would not do,
The last we want’s in the hand;
We’ll measure the same as we did the foot,
And thus our
trade
command.
The length, you know, is measured first;
Two
sizes
added on
Will make the toe so comfortable,
We should like to sing a song.
And leave the measure neat;
Some shoes are made which look much broader
When put upon the feet.
And measure as before,
One-half inch off will answer us,
No less, and not much more.
For if we do we are apt to find
The place where shoes do pinch;
Across the
ball
we’re now inclined,
Still measuring by the inch.
Bunions develop there;
And when they do ’tis not forgot,
We may be e’er so fair.
One-quarter
size
we leave off here,
As on our way we go,
Travelling on, without a fear,
Until we reach the toe.
At this point we may drop,
For we are now quite far away
From the ankle and the top.
But further yet, we are bound to go,
The
bottom
must be reached,
Where
soles
are made and often
saved
,
’Though the
saver
be
impeached
.
The
last
we put upon a
side
Of white or red sole leather,
And mark with knife, or pencil wide,
The parts of
sole
together.
The parts are known, each one defined,
Inner
and
outer sole
;
A
middle
one, when we are kind,
Lifts
and
shank piece
make the whole.
The
pegs
just where you see
Keep the sole where it belongs,
In order to agree.
The edge is bevelled from heel to heel;
The mark across the breast
Shows us when and where we may
Take a little rest.
With the
seams
appearing right,
The stiffening smooth just at the back,
Will draw upon our sight.
This should be done when we begin
To draw the upper over,
So that the
last
in all its parts
Shall have a proper cover.
At the heel and at the toe;
If these parts should be too loose
It would nearly spoil the shoe.
Draw steady, or you’ll make a crack,
Which will there remain;
Perhaps may cause us to go back,
And do it over again.
Drawn gently at the toe,
We hold it down with our left thumb,
While a
peg
we try make go.
On either side of the toe now work,
And in the same way fasten
The
upper
down upon the
sole
;
To the heel we now must hasten.
Have now a secure tack;
The stiffening, all straight in between
The
lining
and the
back
.
Be sure you get the lining smooth,
The part inside the shoe;
If it is not, you may sometime
Have a thing to make you blue.
In the way shown in the cut;
And with a
string
and
button
Use care to close the front.
We no doubt now do see the thing
Taking on a shape,
Which, in the end, will surely bring
Us clear out of the scrape.
A
hole
, for the
pin
in the
last
,
Serves to keep the same intact,
While the
toe piece
holds it fast.
Now at the
breast
, draw over outside,
Close upon the
sole
;
Take your time, for something’s gained,
While filling up the hole.
The awl, you see, should not be large;
In
lasting
use small
pegs
;
Just drive them through the
inner sole
,
No danger of your legs.
The inside
shank
is longer;
If we would last it very smooth,
We must pull all the stronger.
The thumbs at this are very clever,
When their part is nicely played,
Serving as a splendid lever,
While working in the shade.
Be careful not to scratch it;
When in position we are found
We are more apt to catch it.
When this we’ve caught, and feel safe to leave
For the other side,
We’ll find the heel where the toe has been,
By this we must abide.
The future for us yet;
Let’s
last
the
upper
all around,
’Till at the
toe
we get.
Still using
awl
in
pincer
hand,
Alternating endly,
For at this
post
we’ve taken stand
To grow up very friendly.
The first is more important,
Because the toe is always seen;
If rough becomes discordant.
These
crimps
are made from left to right,
And right to left we go;
Then
scallop
them, when to be
pegged
,
Not so when it we sew.
With
crimps
cut as was said,
Already for the
middle sole
,
Which forms an even bed,
On which we lay the
outer sole
;
The thing we look for next,
Is moulded near the upper close,
And comes quite near our text.
A better understanding,
And help protect our feet from frost,
While we the trade commanding.
A
strap
is used around the
foot
,
The
shoe
upon the
knee
;
To mould the
sole
, as we have said,
These parts should all agree.
Trim the sole prepared;
Then make a line for pegs to go,
For in this we have shared.
We to our old friend
jack
make haste,
With our
awl
and
hammer
bright;
Begin to
peg
on the line we’ve marked—
Six to the inch is right.
Each other they are put;
Use them long enough to go clear through,
But save them from the foot.
The awl-hand picks up the pegs,
The hammer-hand now takes,
Between forefinger and the thumb,
And for the hole it makes.
By repeating this we soon shall have
Our work ready for a
lift
;
But first, smooth pegs and trim
heel-seat
,
Or we’ll move along too swift.
Making the centre level;
With our knife in hand, not very dull,
We are prepared to bevel.
In this way the heel is built,
One
lift
upon the other;
Pegging each will add no guilt,
But save our subject bother.
Piece by piece, until we stop
At the proper height;
A solid piece used for the top
Will make it finish right.
Around the top, in mind,
And on the
outside
some prefer
A few more nails to find.
Hammer solid both
heel
and
sole
Level as it can be;
Whittle the
heel
down to a size
Close to the nails you’ll see.
To smooth the heel up nice;
For when around it you have gone,
Its work will here suffice.
Cut down the
breast
, make it
square
,
Sand-paper it, if you please;
Then change position very fair,
And done with perfect ease.
Do not cut the upper;
This same thing is done to the boot,
And neither has to suffer.
These tools are bought in stores,
Known to the
craft
as “finding;”
Some are here from foreign shores,
Which serve us a binding.
From the heel, around the toe,
Down to the heel on the other side—
Our shoe begins to show.
The
bottom buffed
, all but the top,
Sand-paper all, now, we think;
Just mark a place across the
shank
To be blackened well with the ink.
And looks as if we’ve parted;
But that’s not so, as we well know
We are nearer than when we started.
The ink when burnished with
hot kit
—
A little
heel ball
is the thing
To use, so that it will be fit
To put upon a king.
The last time for the present;
To part, perhaps, will give us pain;
Perhaps be very pleasant.
A burnisher for the heel, behold!
Use briskly when we finish,
For this tale is nearly told,
Its parts seem to diminish.
Many parts have made the whole,
Some parts are much effected;
But when the parts are whole in one,
They do become respected.
After quite a travel;
Though the road was rough from place to place,
The thread did not unravel.
J. P. H., Jr.