ent, and he may understand you. He knows why his own things belong
to him and those of another person do not, and beyond this he knows
nothing. Speak to him of duty and obedience, and he will not know what
you mean. Command him to do a thing, and he will not understand you.
But tell him that if he will do you such and such a favor, you will do
the same for him whenever you can, and he will readily oblige you; for
he likes nothing better than to increase his power, and to lay you
under obligations he knows to be inviolable. Perhaps, too, he enjoys
being recognized as somebody and accounted worth something. But if
this last be his motive, he has already left the path of nature, and
you have not effectually closed the approaches to vanity.

If he needs help, he will ask it of the very first person he meets, be
he monarch or man-servant; to him one man is as good as another.

By his manner of asking, you can see that he feels you do not owe him
anything; he knows that what he asks is really a favor to him, which
humanity will induce you to grant. His expressions are simple and
laconic. His voice, his look, his gesture, are those of one equally
accustomed to consent or to refusal. They show neither the cringing
submission of a slave, nor the imperious tone of a master; but modest
confidence in his fellow-creatures, and the noble and touching
gentleness of one who is free, but sensitive and feeble, asking aid of
another, also free, but powerful and kind. If you do what he asks, he
does not thank you, but feels that he has laid himself under
obligation. If you refuse, he will not complain or insist; he knows it
would be of no use. He will not say, "I was refused," but "It was
impossible." And, as has been already said, we do not often rebel
against an acknowledged necessity.

Leave him at liberty and by himself, and without saying a word, watch
what he does, and how he does it. Knowing perfectly well that he is
free, he will do nothing from mere thoughtlessness, or just to show
that he can do it; for is he not aware that he is always his own
master? He is alert, nimble, and active; his movements have all the
agility of his years; but you will not see one that has not some
definite aim. No matter what he may wish to do, he will never
undertake what he cannot do, for he has tested his own strength, and
knows exactly what it is. The means he uses are always adapted to the
end sought, and he rarely does anything