Let it be known, however, that we deaf never shine as critics where our opinions will have weight. Some men, naturally strong and dominant, reach high positions, where they have power over others, and they become hard taskmasters because through their inability to hear they make too many snap judgments and become too critical. They may be efficient, but frequently it is a raw and brutal efficiency which accomplishes little good. One very deaf man was invited to a meeting of a literary society in a Western town. It seemed to be the only entertainment in town that night, and though it was obviously no place for a deaf man, he went along with his friends. We know how to amuse ourselves at such places. We may not hear a word, but the mind can be kept active with some detail of business, or a review or something we have read. This man applauded and smiled with the rest. It is often a foolish performance, but we invariably fall into it. By assuming a serious expression of countenance whenever it was apparent that the program called for thought, this man found himself being accepted as a wise critic. One young woman was determined to attract the attention of the distinguished-looking stranger. She read her essay with one eye on him, and he did his best to look appreciative. When the literary exercises were over the chairman called various leading citizens to discuss the meeting and criticise the various performances. The young woman was anxious to hear a word of praise from the visitor. So, at her suggestion, the president wrote a note and passed it to the deaf man—a note suggesting that he give a truthful criticism of at least one number. This fishing for compliments is like other forms of angling; you never know what you are going to catch. My friend protested and tried to explain, but there was no escape. Being a man of some determination, and, moreover, with severe old-fashioned ideas, he stood up and delivered his criticism: “My friends, I am no critic. Nature has made it necessary for me to hear with my eyes, and I can offer but one suggestion. I may be wrong. Perhaps I am old-fashioned, but it seems to me that if I had to walk through life on such a pair of pipestems as I have seen tonight, they would be the last thing in the world that I would take pride in exhibiting. I’d wear a dress that would sweep the floor.” The company reserved their laughter until they were safe at home, but with one accord everyone glanced at the short skirt of the literary young woman. It is safe to say that she never again suggested an unknown deaf man as critic of her literary efforts.