We all have our pet aversions, and with deaf people the popular candidate for this position is the man who is positive that he can cure the disease. The “hope-deferred” period comes to most of us, and for a time we try every possible remedy, only to find that the affliction is still marching steadily upon us. Then it is the part of wisdom to give up the experimenting and to dig in as a line of defense all the humor and philosophy we can muster. It is not so much resignation to our fate as it is determination to make that fate luminous with hope and good cheer. Miraculous cures which restore the wasted organs of the body may now and then be possible, but they are not probable, while it is certain that too long a period of hope-deferred will cause a sickness of the soul as well as of the heart. Many cannot agree with this philosophy. I think they add to the terror and trouble of their lives by submitting their poor bodies to a continuous series of experiments. There was a prominent merchant in New York, blind, with a disease which the best physicians declared incurable. He made a standing offer of a quarter of a million to anyone who would restore his sight. His theory was that this constant experimenting and treatment kept hope and faith alive. My own experience with the deaf does not point that way. I truly consider it wiser to devote the spirit which may be wasted in false expectation to the task of making the silent land endurable. I know of a woman for whom a tuberculosis expert prescribed a dry, hilly country, a simple diet and a cheerful mode of life, involving little or no medicine. She settled in the country, and some local “quack” told her that a friend had been cured by taking whiskey in which pine chips had been soaked. This intelligent woman, considering her doctor’s treatment too mild, was actually ready to follow this method. As a boy I lived with people whose lives were long experiments with deafness cures. At that time the country was full of unlicensed practitioners, who went about promising to cure every possible disease, and our folks tried them all, just as they sampled every new brand of patent medicine. Even now, many deaf men, and especially those who live in the country or small towns, must expect to be regarded as human experiment stations. We can all relate remarkable experiences with the various “cures” which have been tried out on us. From skunk oil to chiropractic and back again, we know every way station. Few persons appear to aspire to curing blindness, but in every community in which I have ever lived were several individuals who were certain that they could successfully handle diseases of the ear. I have seen them stand impatient, their fingers fairly itching to get hold of me. Usually their “knowledge” of the ear is merely that they recognize it as the organ of hearing, yet they are quite ready to rush in where aurists hesitate to enter. Most of the quack remedies may be