Stiffness of opinion, rigidity of holding to that which one has, preconception, deep-rutted habits of mind--all these are fatal to that swift and splendid growth of the disciple when he first finds his teacher. For days the child is in a bewildering series of changes--made over new each fortnight--reviewing lives of experience--razing the old structures to the very footings for new temples of mind and soul. The child must be ready to give himself--must give himself utterly. The essential reverence is first required; the self is broken for all births; one gives one's self to gain all. I would not try to quicken a child who doubted what I was saying; and yet I have never sought to make myself unerring or infallible. I like to have the young ones make humour of my frailties, and at the same time believe there is something priceless in our better moments together. There is no possibility of front or acting. I seek to make them practise the presence of the Divine in themselves. I tell them never to do anything alone that they would not do before me. I take away all sense of sin from them. I sometimes congratulate them on being especially close to us, because of mistakes. I seek to set them free in all their ways, stripping the last attraction from evil, jockeying them higher from a humorous and artistic point of view. I show them the banality of many popular and obvious evils, the dulness of paying the price for something _off_ form and of questionable taste. * * * * * There is a lot of humour and nobility about a good dog and a good boy together. John has been sleeping for a few nights in a bit of a cabin with an open door. He picked up a friend down on the beach somewhere, the same that he described as "World Man Dog" in one of his letters. I liked the tone of his voice as he talked with this old loafer named Seaweed.... One evening I was sitting on the hill above the cabin, so still that even a bird would have mistaken me for a part of the landscape. World Man Dog came up the cabin grade. His head was down--thinking. His tail was straight out behind him, as a dog's tail is when very much engaged with his own thoughts. You could see that he was going to keep an appointment; it was evident that he was afraid he might be late. He did not see me, so completely was he engrossed in his own affairs. He went right on up to John's door, entered, gave a look round the shack, first eagerly, then to make sure. His face fell, his body sagged--down he slumped in the middle of the floor--utterly dejected. As plain as day: "Hell,--he ain't here!" * * * * * A real dog trainer is a wise man. I used to raise collies and was around the benches some--watching the champions come and go. One old trainer talked to me: