agnetism which makes for the subjugation of
their wills and personalities, be they human or animal.

But, over and above this gift, Dick had faultless patience with animals.
He never gave an order without making perfectly certain that it was
understood. And he never betrayed the smallest hint of indecision or
lack of assured confidence.

"Stay--right--there--Jan," he would say. "Guard--that." His voice was
low, his speech slow, emphatic, distinct. It was a compelling form of
speech, and yet, withal, hardly ever harsh or even peremptory. And when,
in the earlier stages, he had occasion to say: "No, no; that's no good.
That won't do at all, Jan"; or, "You've got to do a heap better than
that, Jan," the words or their tone seemed to cut the dog as it might
have been with a whip-lash. You could see Jan flinch; not cowed or
disheartened, as the dogs trained by public performers often are, but
touched to the very quick of his pride, and hungrily eager to do better
next time and win the low-voiced: "Good dog! That's fine! Good dog,
Jan!" with, it may be, a caressing pat on the head or a gentle rubbing
of both ears.

Jan did not know why he learned, why he loved the lessons and the
teacher, why he obeyed so swiftly, or why praise filled him to the
throat with glad, swelling pride, while the withholding of it, or an
expression of disapproval, sent his flag down between his hocks, and his
spirits with it, to zero. Jan did not know, but he was merely
exemplifying a law as old as the hills. The Israelites found out that
righteousness was happiness, and that no joy existed outside of it.
Righteousness--do ye right--is another word for discipline. The proudest
and the happiest people in the world are the best disciplined people.
Perfect discipline is righteousness for righteousness' sake. According
to his lights, obedience to Dick was righteousness for Jan. Hence his
joyous pride in the progress of his education. No form of
self-indulgence could yield Jan (or any one else) a tithe of the
satisfaction he derived from this subordination of himself.

His greatest trial, and, by that token, once he really understood it,
his greatest source of pride, came in the severe lesson of being sent
home in the early stages of a morning's walk. First it was from the
garden gate; then from the orchard gate in the lane; and later from the
open Down, perhaps half a mile or more away. He would be gamboling to
and fro with Finn, exulting in the joy