Imaginary Fears, Stuffed Lions and Bogus “Wild Men”—Sound as Stimulating Emotions, Even of Animals—The Brazen Courage of the Deaf—The Rum-crazed Men—The Overflowing Brook—The Drunken Prizefighter Challenged by a Deaf Man—The Terrors Lurking Within—Demons of Depression—The Deaf Man and the Only Girl. Most of our fears are imaginary. I am convinced of this after a long study of deaf people, and a careful analysis of my own experience in the silence. I believe that physical fear is almost invariably induced by sound. We all see lions in the way. The man with good ears hears the roaring and hesitates, or turns aside. The horrible sound does not reach the deaf man, and he feels more inclined to go ahead and investigate. Most frequently the frightful object turns out to be a stuffed lion, a creature without effective claws or teeth, with nothing but wind in its roaring! With a little thought every man can remember incidents which tend to prove this statement, but in time of threatened danger he is likely to forget them. Years ago in my boyhood days a couple of us youngsters went to a circus in the country town. In one of the side-shows was a fierce-looking creature labelled “The Wild Man of Borneo.” It appeared to be a human being of medium size with long claws, rolling eyes, and a dreadful, discolored, hairy countenance. His most frightful characteristic was his voice, which was exhibited by a horrible roar, a sound well calculated to chill the simple hearts of the country people who listened to the “manager’s” tale of a thrilling capture. There had been a bloody fight in which the wild man had killed several dogs and wounded a number of hunters. He would never have surrendered had they not first captured his mate; he followed her into voluntary slavery—“Thus proving that love is the primal and ruling force of the universe. The love-song of this devoted couple, ringing over the hills and dales, would have daunted the stoutest heart.” In proof of which the two caged creatures started a chorus of roars which would have sent the country people home to shudder in the darkness, had not a very practical deaf man been moved to investigate. He heard nothing of the explanation, and but little of the roaring; he only saw a couple of undersized creatures, exceedingly dirty and not particularly interesting. The “love song” gave them no glamour for him. So he idly lifted a curtain which hung at one corner of the tent, and, lo, the fountain of sound was revealed at its true source. A hot and perspiring fat man was working industriously at the pedal of a “wind machine,” a device resembling an old-fashioned parlor organ. Here was the real explanation of those primitive cries proving the deep affection which the “Wild Man of Borneo” felt for his mate. The deaf man pulled the curtain completely down and exposed the humbug.