Mr. McClure has been familiar with

work for the deaf all his life, having been born in the Kentucky School, where his father and mother are both teachers. He attended school in Danville, and in 1912 had the honor of receiving the B. A degree from Center College, the college which so firmly established itself on the map of sports this season by producing the only football team that was able to score on Harvard.

In June, 1913, Mr. McClure graduated from the normal department of Gallaudet College, and since that time he has done postgraduate work two summers at the University of Chicago and one

mer

at

EDITH M. HILLIARD

Northwestern University, at Evanston, Illinois. He was a teacher in the Missouri School for the Deaf from 1913 to 1920, except for one year during the war, spent in the U. S. Navy, where he was commissioned as ensign.

Sum

He became superintendent of the North Dakota School for the Deaf September 1. 1912.

MISS ETHEL HIL-
LIARD, of Idaho

A biographical sketch of Miss Hilliard appeared in THE VOLTA REVIEW for November, and will not be reproduced here, but we take pleasure in presenting to our readers a recent photograph. It was taken for use with Miss Hilliard's passport, during the time she was privileged to be a war worker for Uncle Sam in Europe.

MISS K. VIOLA WILCOX,
of Oklahoma

Miss Wilcox, recently appointed principal of the Home Oral School of Sand Springs, Okla., is a native of Pennsylvania and received her education principally in that State. She took a normal course and was for a number of years a public-school teacher. Then, feeling that the need was greater in schools for the deaf, she was trained for that work.

For the last twelve years she has been first assistant in the Home School for Little Deaf Children, Kensington, Md., and thus enters her new field with much valuable experience in the needs of such an institution.

MR. WILLIAM A. CALDWELL,
of California

Mr. Caldwell has been associated with the education of the deaf since 1877, and so needs no introduction to those long interested in the profession. His record is as follows:

He was born in Hanover, Indiana, and educated at Hanover College, where he received, in 1874. the degree of bachelor of arts.

He began teaching in a log cabin about five miles south of Shepherdsville. Ken

tucky, when sixteen years old, and taught also (with indifferent success, he tells us, as regards discipline) in the schools of Clarke County, Indiana.

In 1875 he became a clerk in the auditor's office of the Louisville and Paducah Railroad, becoming chief clerk before the road was taken over by the Louisville and Nashville.

In 1877 he accepted, reluctantly and with the intention of remaining only one year, a position in the Indiana Institution for the Deaf, thereby sealing his fate, for the profession has claimed him ever since. He has taught in the Indiana, California, and Pennsylvania institutions; was principal of the Florida School, 1890-1893, and has been sought as a teacher in various other schools, by superintendents prominent in the work. The profession furnished him his wife, who was Mrs. Mary Edna Foster, matron of the Indiana Institution at the time of their marriage, in 1884. He has been a contributor to the American Annals of the Deaf and THE VOLTA REVIEW, and has edited the California News, the California School paper, since 1893.

He was appointed superintendent of the California School during the last session, succeeding the late Mr. Laurence Milligan.

was superintendent of schools at Mt. Comfort, Parker City, and Geneva, Indiana.

Superintendent Griffey and Mrs. H. F. Griffey, his estimable wife, entered the new field at the Romney schools with much zeal and enthusiasm. It is earnestly hoped that the standard of these schools will be efficiently and successfully maintained throughout their administration.

MR. JAMES ARTHUR WEAVER,
of Vermont

Mr. Weaver's long experience with the deaf has thoroughly familiarized him with their needs.

He entered the work as a pupil-teacher at the Royal Schools for the Deaf, Old Kent Road, London, and Margate, England, and after a three-years' course of training under Dr. Richard Elliott, prin

JAMES A. WEAVER

MR. H. F. GRIFFEY, of West Virginia

Superintendent H. F. Griffey, of Kenova, West Virginia, was appointed on September 1, 1920, to succeed Professor F. L. Burdette, who voluntarily resigned his position as superintendent of the West Virginia Schools for the Deaf and the Blind, at Romney, West Virginia.

Mr. Griffey was born, reared, and educated in the Indiana schools, graduating from Indiana University with A. B. and A. M. degrees in 1910 and 1915 respectively. Since then he has taken a Ph. D. course at the University of Chicago, but this course is incomplete because of his thesis being still in process of compilation. For three years Mr. Griffey had charge of the school system at Hinton, West Virginia, and last year was located at Kenova, West Virginia, in the capacity of superintendent of the Ceredo-Kenova Public Schools, coming from that place to his present position.

Before going to West Virginia he held the chair of biology in the South Dakota State Normal School at Springfield; also

GEORGE B. LLOYD

cipal of those schools, he taught in the Oral Department at Ramsgate and Margate for a number of years.

In 1900 Mr. Weaver accepted an offer from his friend, the late Mr. James Fearon, to join his staff at the School for the Deaf, Halifax, Nova Scotia. After two or three years there, he left to take charge of a newly opened school for the deaf at St. John, New Brunswick, but remained there only a few months.

During the session of 1903-1904 and 1904-1905 he taught the advanced class in the Utah School, leaving to accept a position on the faculty of the Pennsylvanian Institution at Mount Airy, as teacher in the Advanced Department and editor of the school magazine, The Mount Airy World. These positions he still held at the time of his appointment as superintendent of the Austine Institution, at Brattleboro, Vermont.

Mr. Weaver is a member of the College of Teachers of the Deaf and Dumb, London, England, and a Braidwood Gold Medalist. He has contributed many

articles on professional subjects to magazines and papers connected with the education of the deaf.

The accompanying "snapshot" was taken a few weeks ago by one of Mr. Weaver's pupils, at Brattleboro, Ver

mont.

MR. GEORGE B. LLOYD

Mr. Lloyd entered his present field, the education of the deaf, when he was born, for his father, Rowland B. Lloyd, was a teacher in the New Jersey School, and both he and his wife were deaf.

Mr. Lloyd became a teacher in the Washington State School in 1910, and remained there until 1918, when he accepted a position in the Mount Airy School. He, accompanied by his wife and two children, returned to Washington as superintendent at the opening of the present session.

Mr. Lloyd says: "I am not a 'pure-oral' man, but I want to see a great deal more oral work done."

"N OW RUN along, dear, with these

strawberries for Miss Hetty and the Parson before the sun gets hot." Aunt Margaret kissed the pale face under the wide straw hat as she added, "We must try to put some strawberry color into those pale cheeks soon."

"You can't miss the place," assured Aunt Rose, following the girl out upon the vine-covered porch. "It's just around the bend in the road after you reach the top of the hill, right by the church."

As the gate clicked behind her, Louise turned and waved to the two in the shadow of the vines.

"They are both such dears," she sighed, "but they will talk, and talk, and my nerves are almost ready to break trying to hear what they say.'

She followed the winding road under the old live-oak trees. The swinging draperies of gray-green moss brought a sense of grateful seclusion, and a little sigh of relief escaped when the cottage

passed out of sight. A saucy mockingbird balanced himself in a tree-top high above her head, and she paused to watch him. She saw the pretty throat swell and quiver, but not a sound penetrated the stillness. Quick tears filled her eyes.

"And I'll never, never hear even a mocking-bird again. Oh! I can't bear it! I can't!" she sobbed. "Why must I? Why?" It was the old, old question that many another has asked, and there

was no answer.

Three months before, there had been a long illness, and Louise had come out of it into a strangely silent world. The blunt old doctor had assured her that in time she would be totally deaf, but it might be several years, and she would have time to get used to it. She recalled his words now.

"Get used to it!" she cried vehemently. "As if I ever could!" and she dashed away the blinding tears.

She had reached the top of the hill

now and the road turned sharply to the right. A dim path led off to the left.

"I wonder where that path goes," she mused. "I'd love to go exploring, if it wasn't for Miss Hetty's strawberries."

"Oh, what a pretty place!" she cried, as a small white house came into view, half hidden by riotous vines and hedges.

"I'm very glad to see you, my dear,' greeted Miss Hetty warmly. "Your aunts told me about you before you came. Now, you must not go right back. Won't you stay and spend the day with us?"

"You can't? Well, then, we'll look for you one day real soon, and for the whole day, remember. We never make fifteen-minute calls here. But come, you must at least meet Father before you go," and she led the reluctant girl around the house, through a grape arbor, to a vine-covered arch in the hedge.

"He's always in the garden in the cool of the morning." she explained.

A second exclamation of delight broke from the girl's lips at sight of the little garden. Long, narrow beds of growing things with wide paths between stretched from one end to the other. At the farthest corner she caught sight of a grayhaired man in a wheel-chair. He was dropping seeds into the furrow at his side and covering them with a longhandled implement.

"Oh, is he lame?" inquired Louise softly.

"Yes," replied her hostess. "But he takes entire care of the garden from his chair. He has a man to come and plow it twice a year; then he does everything else. He's done it for ten years.

The wheel-chair was coming toward them now, down the nearest path, and Louise noticed a rack at the side containing a number of queer-looking garden tools and several packages of seed.

"How do you like my garden?" asked the man, shaking hands cordially.

"Fine," replied Louise. "And it's-it's wonderful that you can do it."

He smiled. "Come back into the shade of the arbor and I will show you the tools I have learned to do it with."

Miss Hetty led the way and seated the girl under the cool vines near the wheelchair. Then, promising to bring a pitcher

of fresh buttermilk to cool them off, she left them together.

The old man talked of his garden, his tools, and his plants till Louise lost her shyness; then he began to question her about herself. It seemed so easy to tell him all about her deafness and the hopeless future. Somehow she knew he understood, and it lightened the load to share it with him.

"I haven't forgotten the first shock of the meaning of deafness," he assured her. "But it isn't so bad after a while."

"What!" cried the girl. "Have you been deaf? How did you get over it?" "I didn't get over it," he smiled.

"But you are not very deaf, for I have not talked loud at all, while you have almost shouted at me."

"That is the best part of it. Miss Louise. It doesn't make any difference how low or how loud you talk, for I am totally deaf. But I understand what you say by watching your lips."

"Oh! How do you do it? Please tell me about it."

He smiled at her eagerness and continued: "It seems only a few weeks ago. time goes so fast to an old man; but really it's more than ten years since the accident that left me this way. Hetty and I were alone then and had been for years. We owned this little place. It had been my father's. So we came here to live. The sting of bitterness and rebellion is all gone now, but I can well remember how I felt. I had always loved the outdoors. The best of my sermons came from the trees, the clouds. and the birds. To be shut in from all this was bad, but to be shut out from my fellow-men was worse. My neighbors were kind. They came to see me often. But they could not talk to me, so they were only a reminder of my isolation. By and by I began to notice words on their lips and Hetty's, as they talked together. Just little things they were, at first, but it gave me the idea, and I began to watch for them and put them together: One day I told Hetty about it and asked her to read my favorite Psalm while I watched for the words I knew by heart.”

The old man's face lighted up at the recollection. He went on: "It was the