In the evening I said: "Lola, what _is_ it you don't understand about me?" "Cause is often roughness!" She remarked--and here I really felt that there was little that I must needs explain--for I am not conscious of meriting her reproach on this score. 11 January: "Tell me something, Lola!" I pleaded. "Mistake to go out so little," she observed. Here she was emphatically in the right! She had not been out much lately, for it had been very wet--and she needs plenty of exercise. In the evening I invited her to "say something more." "o we gwelen!" "What worries you?" "ere nehemen!" ( = taking honour!) "Taking honour about what?" "eid!" (So the old story has not yet faded from her memory). 12 January: "Well, now you've told me ever so much that you can't understand about me! But is there anything more?" "Zeig audawer (Ausdauer) in libe zu mir!" "_Ausdawer?_ Isn't there a letter wrong?" "Yes, 4"; "What should it be?" "Au!" So the sentence ran, "Zeig Ausdauer in Liebe zu mir!" ( = show constancy in your love for me!) Yes, indeed I will, you dear beast! ULSE'S FIRST INSTRUCTION As I have stated, when Lola came to me she could already say "yes" and "no"; she had even some slight acquaintance with the numbers and counting. The bridge leading from man to animal had been started, and the first difficulties embarked on. The further I pursued these studies with Lola, the keener became my curiosity to know whether I should be equal to the task of tackling this work where an animal in its primeval state was concerned, thus driving in the first props of this bridge myself! I tried my 'prentice hand in this work on Geri, the beautiful German sheep-dog, who had come into my possession in 1914. This dog--owing to excess of breeding, and also, perhaps, to the impressions imbibed in his youth was unusually shy and melancholy--he lacked all natural energy to "cut a figure" in any way; he had learnt to say "yes" and "no," and I feel sure that he understood me very well, but his nervousness and his constant fear held him back from rapping out anything beyond his _yes_ and _no_ answers. (At a later date I was obliged to give him away, owing to the scarcity of food.) Lola's progeny, therefore, seemed to offer more promising material for fresh ventures, but all--excepting the little lady-dog--Ulse--had been dispersed, going to their several new owners, before the winter days immediately after Christmas brought me sufficient leisure for further study, and as I had to give part of this time to Lola, as well as to the writing of this book, I had but a small margin left to expend on the little newcomer. Nor can I say, to tell the truth, that my interest in her was very great; she had already been promised to someone, and the fact of her still being with me was due to the difficulties of travel in these abnormal times. But, finally, sheer pity for the small creature--sitting alone in the stable--led me to bring her in for a few