If language is capable of exercising so powerful an influence it must be more than a superficial acquirement. It must be woven into and interwoven with our innermost nature. What is there in the English language to make a German's broad and massive forehead, high cheek-bones, full lips, short chin, and round face, in his offspring sink into narrow forms and long, oval lines? What makes the lower jaw, which in him was short and round, in these children sink down and extend outward, while the upper jaw recedes back? What is it that makes the jovial and happy expression of the German in his children change into features of an impassive nature, from which they are only roused when in action?--features of which it has been said that it is sometimes difficult to know whether they, sphinx-like, cover a happy or unhappy disposition; a disposition sometimes so self-possessed and reserved that its owner might almost reply as Alva did, when asked why he never smiled: "I would not so demean myself before myself as to smile." Yet when such a face (especially when it is a girl's) _does_ smile, its passive features are lighted up in a manner so enchanting that its beauty amply compensates for its previous apathy. I do not wish to say, however, that Anglo-Saxons do not _feel_ either joy or sorrow as keenly as Germans do (though I have my doubts even on this score); but they do not carry their feelings with them on the surface. They sink them into that reserve, at once proud and self-possessed, which does not wish others to take cognizance of their private affairs. The nature of the Anglo-Saxon is one of _reserve_, that of the German one of _abandon_ and _laisser-aller_. This is not due to heredity in the first instance, but to the influence of language, by which character and habits are formed. Dr. Holmes relates that, after a protracted search for his son, who had been wounded in the battle of Gettysburg, when at last finding the "Captain" in a transport train, he went up to him, simply saying, "How are you, Bob?" and he replying, "How are you, Dad?"--stating at the same time, "Such is the force of our national habit that, especially in the presence of strangers, we suppress the impulse of our most ardent feelings," or words to that effect. A similar proceeding under such circumstances would be considered "unnatural" among Germans.