These are but samples of the dozens of ridiculous “cures” which have been suggested to me, or even put into operation. I can vouch for the comparative virtues of skunk oil, vibration, or the inflation of the Eustachian tubes at the hands of a skilled aurist. And, after all, I feel that in many cases the doom is sure, and that the best alleviation for the future silent days is the store of accumulated philosophy and sunshine. It seems to me that the surgery and general treatment of the ears has not kept pace with the successful handling of diseases of other organs. Some real “cure” may be developed, but hardly in my day. I consider the study of lip-reading the most useful course for the deaf, and we may at least prepare for the next generation by having the ears of our children watched as carefully as we watch their teeth, their eyes, their hands and feet. For lip-reading one must have good eyes and a quick brain. Some of us deaf become proficient in the use of the science, and I think its practice will extend and become far more general. I have some little knowledge of it, though I have not made it a prolonged study. It would be difficult for me to explain exactly why I have not studied the science more carefully. For many years my aurist told me that my great hope for holding such hearing as I had was to force myself to listen, even though I could get little of conversation. He thought that the constant use of instruments or of lip-reading would weaken and finally destroy my limited natural hearing, so that in time I should forget how to listen and hear. This advice was, no doubt, good, though if I were to go through life again I should make a thorough study of lip-reading, anyway. In fact, I once started seriously enough, but was switched away by a curious and disheartening discovery. I began practicing on the train, studying intently the faces of men and women, trying to take their words from their lips. Next to the ability to read thought comes for interest and excitement the power of interpreting ordinary conversation when the speaker has no thought of betraying his communications to outsiders. I succeeded only too well with one man. I had always supposed him to be a person of high character, and had been wont to envy the recipients of his conversation. I finally was able to read his lips, only to find that all of his talk was trivial, and some of it filthy beyond expression. I, in my silence, busy with my gleanings from good literature, had fancied that my companions were using a gift priceless to me, and denied, for what we may honestly call “the glory of God.” My little essay into lip-reading was thus discouraged; it seemed suddenly a waste of time. Youth is probably the best time for studying lip-reading, when the spirit for riding down obstacles and discouragements is stronger.