Nature will have its right always. What is this right in regard to vocal utterance? It is the manner in which we breathe. When we violate nature's right in our mode of breathing for vocal expression, our penalty is that such expression will not be what it is intended to be, what it should be; the idiomatic expression of every language being the outcome of a special mode of breathing for the same.

All my observations in the first instance owe their origin to the fact that I was breathing in a manner directly opposite to the one in which it was necessary for me to breathe to correctly produce the idiomatic expression of the English language. It was not until after this fact had become clear to my mind that I began to extract from my organs of speech those sounds which appear so abnormally different and "strange" to the ear of the bewildered foreigner, who finds himself completely at a loss how to produce them. The better he becomes acquainted with the language, the more thoroughly he becomes convinced of the fact that his mode of speaking English is different from that of the native-born. Nor will a German ever succeed in speaking English as it should be spoken until he succeeds in reversing his mode of breathing. He must go straight to the antipodes in sound production; he must stand on his head, so to say, instead of on his feet. I shall fully explain what this means later on.

I venture to make the assertion that no other person besides myself has ever learned to pronounce a foreign language idiomatically correct, as I have, by means of applying to his mode of speaking rules based on actual knowledge or scientific principles. In this manner I have succeeded in learning to speak English with less of the tinge of a foreign accent adhering to my speech than usually is the case with foreigners who have commenced to speak it as late in life as I did. I do not say this vauntingly, for I do not consider this accomplishment in itself as of a very high order; but I say it to vindicate my claim that I have discovered the principles on which the production of language is based, and offer my personal pronunciation of the English language to which these principles have been applied as a proof that I have done so. I am still learning, however, for it takes time and practice and a great deal of patience to dislodge the old habit from its wonted haunts and to assign its quarters to a foreign guest. My old familiar dwelling has thus become a lodging for the English language, though I can return to it at will with my old and dearly beloved mother tongue and be comfortable therein.

The foreign guest, however, who came to dwell therein, does not use my native home, in his mode of entering it or going forth from it, in the old familiar way, nor does he use the same apartments for the same purposes. He enters at the back gate while I used to enter at the front; he leaves it at the front gate while I left at the back. He opens his shutters to the east, while I used to look out from the west, etc. Such differences as these in our mode of breathing exist throughout the entire length and breadth of both languages. The sounds we have imbibed in our early youth, however, will always be more familiar and nearer to us and dearer than those of any other language, no matter how closely the latter may enter into our lives and our being at a later period.

NATIONAL TRAITS OF CHARACTER

What constitutes a given number of people a nation, besides their history, their political organization, and the geographical position of their territory? What makes every member belonging to a nation, whether he lives within its territory or has emigrated therefrom, a different being from every member of any other nation? What makes each member of a nation resemble every other member thereof, not only in regard to vocal expression but also in regard to general cast of features, build of body, movements, gesticulations, etc., and in what may be summed up as national traits of character?

No one will deny the fact that such differences exist, as between Germans, Frenchmen, and Englishmen, for instance. This difference is not racial, as they all belong to the Caucasian race. It can scarcely be climatic with nations whose territory is adjacent to each other; nor is it likely to be religious, historical, or political. There is nothing very decidedly different in the situation and composition of these various nations and the individuals of which they are composed, except their language.

I maintain that language is not only the main point of difference, but that it is the cause and origin of all other main points of difference. As language is the main gift which distinguishes men from animals, so it is also the principal distinguishing mark as between one nation and another. I maintain, and expect to prove, that the language—that is, any specific language—acquired in childhood becomes an integral part of a person's organization, as positively so as any of his other natural faculties; and that he cannot change it, that is, in an idiomatically correct manner, without changing, to some extent, the drift of his entire organism. As soon as I began to succeed in speaking the English language as it is spoken in this country, idiomatically correct, I changed my nature, to some extent, from that of a German to that of an American; nor is it possible to learn to speak any language idiomatically correct without undergoing a similar change. Not alone my mode of vocal expression, but my motions, my habits, nay, my very features, yes, even my way of thinking, in some respects, have been subjected to such a change; modified, of course, by heredity, previous habits, and the constant reversion of all this by the frequent recurrence to my native tongue. In using the term "idiomatically correct" I mean of course that mode of expression which is peculiar to a language, its general cast, and which is representative of its genius and spirit.

To what do I attribute so powerful an influence?

It is not easy to say this comprehensively in a few words. I will say this much, however: That, language being the outcome of streams of the vital fluid passing into and out of our composition in a systematic manner, each system varying with every other system, our vital organs are differently affected, in conformity with the manner and the rotation in which these streams reach these different organs; in other words, in conformity with the manner in which we breathe for our language. This influence is not confined to the vocal expression of a nation. It is influential with and extends to the special mode of vocal expression in separate districts, provinces, localities, and cities; nay, it extends to families and single members belonging to such families, each separate member's expression being the product of his special mode of breathing, and differing in some respects from that of every other member of the same family; such difference in the mode of breathing being the reflection of every individual soul.

The bent of the soul in individual cases determines the flow of these streams, the same as the bent of the national soul determines the same for the entire nation. Or, which perhaps would be more correct, the flow of these streams determines the bent of the individual as well as national soul. The influence being reciprocal, it would be difficult to state, as it is with all matters of this kind, which preponderates, which gives the first impulse. It is of the same order as the old question (never to be solved) aptly expressed in the homely query, "Which was created first, the hen or the egg?"

It is interesting to note the manner in which the vital streams affecting the character of the two peoples in regard to whom I have had the opportunity for many years of making my observations, the Anglo-Saxon and the German, take their course. With the former the point of gravitation is located in the abdomen; with the latter in the thorax.

This gives the Anglo-Saxon a circuitous route for his expression in coming to the surface; his mode of respiration being the following:

He inspires into the thorax posteriorly, next into the abdomen anteriorly. He then expires from the abdomen posteriorly, and from the thorax anteriorly; vocal expression accompanying the last movement.

A German's mode of respiration is as follows: He inspires into the abdomen posteriorly, expiring from the abdomen anteriorly; he then inspires into the thorax anteriorly and expires from the same posteriorly, the latter movement only being accompanied by sound. You will notice that in the former case the breath to be expired and to be accompanied by sound has been held in the thorax until the abdomen has gone through an inspiration and an expiration; while with Germans, inspiration into the abdomen as well as into the thorax are succeeded by expiration from the same, a direct proceeding as against the indirect of the Anglo-Saxon. Thus the former secures a force reserved and held and to be drawn upon as it is needed, while the latter pours forth his vital force in a continuous stream as soon as it is engendered.

The point of gravitation determines the mode of breathing and the production of vocal utterance. With Anglo-Saxons, the point of gravitation being located in the abdomen, their speech tends from below, upward; with Germans, the point of gravitation being located in the thorax, their speech tends from above, downward. The direction of Anglo-Saxon expression is from the abdomen, where it has its root, to the thorax; that of the German is from the thorax, where it has its root, to the abdomen. It will scarcely be necessary for me to say to the reader, over and over again, "Try this," "Try that"; I wish it to be understood, once for all, that this recommendation is to be tacitly implied as accompanying every statement, every proposition, every assertion I make. Personally I can go through any one and all of the performances at any time and at a moment's notice. In making these experiments, speak or sing after breathing in the prescribed manner. The prescribed manner being the one in which the impression is made and from which the expression is produced as a matter of course and of necessity. An Anglo-Saxon will not be able to utter a word spoken or sung in his language after breathing in the German fashion, nor will a German be able to do so in his language after breathing in the Anglo-Saxon manner. Change either manner of breathing but in the least, and you will not be able to express yourself in either German or English; but you may thus be able to express yourself in some other language. It is, of course, understood that we breathe into the abdomen through the oesophagus, into the thorax through the trachea.

In trying propositions like the one now under consideration, it may not be easy for persons who have not previously given any thought to matters of this kind to successfully try them. You must give yourself up to these things, must be at home for them only, for a period at least, until you have become thoroughly engrossed with them. It is not a study to be superficially attained. You must enter into it with your whole soul, your entire being. If you do, you will eventually become as familiar with the principles underlying these matters as you are with the letters of the alphabet, or the figures representing the numerals, and be able to apply the same in as easy a manner and for as various purposes as you do these.

Their indirect mode of breathing of Anglo-Saxons produces a deliberate mode of speech; while German breathing, being direct, produces a speech as rapid in its formation as in its utterance. Action being the counterpoise of speech, is of the inverse order of the latter. English speech being slow and deliberate, English action is rapid and direct; German speech being rapid and direct, German action is slow and deliberate. English character, the same as English speech, is distinguished by patience and forbearance; these, when finally exhausted, are succeeded by sudden and violent outbreaks. German character, the same as German speech, is alternately exuberant and depressed; contented, but also of a disposition to find fault whenever the occasion may arise.

Anglo-Saxons, in consequence of their indirect mode of expression, are in possession of a reserve force always at their command, but only called upon on special occasions; hence long-continued forbearance, and then—a blow for liberty. With Germans, in consequence of their direct mode of expression, their vital force is continuously being engendered, and as continuously being exhausted. Hence, they are in the habit of constantly protesting, and as constantly submitting to the status quo.

The character of Anglo-Saxons, in viewing things from a practical standpoint, is as far removed from the ideal as it is from the pessimistic. It is neither exuberant, overstrained, exalted, nor despondent; but cool, well balanced, and matter-of-fact. It is not like the German:

A German is influenced according to whether he can or cannot, while losing sight of the real, satisfy his craving for the ideal, for which, in his direct and impulsive nature, he is constantly yearning; which the Anglo-Saxon, seeing it is beyond his reach, abandons as impracticable.

To comprehend the ideal of whatsoever nature, the German, with endless patience, tries to solve the most complicated problems; after solving them he is often satisfied with the result in the abstract; while the practical Anglo-Saxon uses this result for his utilitarian purposes. The philosophical German patiently unravels a Gordian knot; the practical Anglo-Saxon, "Alexander-like, cuts it in two with his sword" ("Wie Alexander haut ihn auseinander"). Germans love education for its own sake; it makes of them superior beings, giving them treasures more highly prized than any others, and far more lasting. Anglo-Saxons, on the other hand, get their education for a purpose, and with a view to their worldly advancement. While with Germans education is "Selbstzweck" (its reward consisting in its possession), with Anglo-Saxons its reward consists in its application. The question so often agitated in this country, whether a university education may or may not be of benefit (that is, in furthering his worldly advancement) to any one not intending to embrace one of the learned professions, would never arise in Germany; practical value and education being things apart, the latter taking first rank always and never being subordinated to the former.

Schiller says:

I am inclined to think that the opposite of this is the usual tendency with Anglo-Saxons.

Many other causes might be cited, many other results. These, however, must answer the present purpose, which is, to show that the course taken by the vital streams in breathing, besides affecting their speech, affects the character of nations.

All this might be summed up in saying: The point of gravitation with Anglo-Saxons being located in the abdomen, which represents the material side of life, their being is primarily rooted in the material, and reaches the ideal by way of the material. The German, on the other hand, having his point of gravitation in the thorax, which represents the spiritual part of our existence, reaches the material by way of the ideal, in which his being is primarily rooted.

I owe the reader an apology for anticipating in using the terms "streams of life" and "the point of gravitation." These are not words without a definite meaning, however; on the contrary, they are of the greatest significance and of a very definite meaning. Still, I must tax his patience for a proper explanation thereof till I shall be able to reach them in due course of time. We cannot approach the steep crest of a hill by a straight line of ascent, but must patiently wind around and around its circumference to be able to finally reach its summit.

THE AMERICAN NATION

It will require but a single example, familiar to all, to still more forcibly show that it is language through whose agency national traits of character and physical development are produced. How do you suppose that the wonder has been wrought, and is still daily being worked, of the great mass of humanity reaching these shores from foreign lands being merged into one homogeneous nation? The remark is often made that "it is the climate." If it were the climate, or other conditions specifically belonging to this country, how is it that foreigners coming here at maturity always remain foreigners, while their offspring born and bred here become Americans? Even children born elsewhere, but coming here at an early age, soon become "Americanized," while their parents remain foreigners always. These children must have taken a potent draught, not partaken of by their parents, to not only change their mode of vocal but also of physical expression; nay, the vital expression of their entire being. That draught is the English language. Most foreigners respectively married to an American wife or husband, and rearing a family of American children, remain foreigners to the end of their lives.

It often happens that parents of foreign birth cannot comprehend the character and actions of their own children, who are so different, being superficial and frivolous, where they are deep and sound; cool and calculating where they are fire and flame. Yet these children possess sterling qualities of another kind which their parents do not possess.

I call to mind two brothers, sons of German parents, born in this country. With the eldest-born the German influence was potent. He was made to speak German at home and at school, and is to-day, though married to an American, more German in his manner and appearance than American, while his mode of speaking the English language also has something "German" in it. His brother, on the other hand, more particularly reared under native influences, is a thorough American. There was nothing in this case but the influence of language which could have caused this difference. Similar examples might be cited endlessly.

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.

Regarding the change of features, as between foreign-born (German) parents and their English-speaking offspring, by which the latter's assume a shape which makes the oesophagus predominate over the trachea, it will be as impossible for these children to speak idiomatically correct German as it is for their parents, with whom the trachea predominates over the oesophagus, to speak idiomatically correct English. When my features assume the proper shape for English speech, I cannot produce a single correct German sound, and when they assume the proper shape for German speech, it is as impossible for me to produce a correct English sound.

I expect that this statement will be hotly disputed. The measure of our ordinary mode of listening, however, must not be applied to these matters. In some rare instances the difference is so slight that it takes a very acute ear to notice it.

CENTRIPETAL AND CENTRIFUGAL

While speaking our native tongue our muscles move, our sinews tend, our vessels lean, our blood throbs, and our nerves tingle with the essence of our language in its direction, and not in the direction of any other language. We not only speak and sing our language, but we gesticulate it, we walk it, dance it, write it, think it, smile it, and sorrow in it. Everything we do is done differently from the same thing done by a person speaking another language. The movements of the muscles of a German are centripetal, while those of an Anglo-Saxon are centrifugal. With a German they close in around the mouth; with an Anglo-Saxon they depart from the mouth upward and downward. Hence the broad features of the German versus the elongated ones of the Anglo-Saxon. Look at the old people. The centrifugal action with an Anglo-Saxon even in old age still leaves his form erect, his face serene, scarcely showing a wrinkle, either on his forehead, his cheeks, or around the eyes and mouth. Apart from his bleached hair, he frequently retains a quite youthful appearance. The centripetal action with a German in old age, on the other hand, has a tendency to bend his form and draw it together, and to shrivel up his skin into innumerable wrinkles, so that his mouth often resembles the mouth of a purse drawn close together. This youthful appearance with aged English-speaking people reflects on their customs and their costume, which latter retains much of the tidiness of their younger days. Germans, on the other hand, age soon. This fact is so apparent that they conform their habits and general appearance to their age. They feel old, and unhesitatingly submit to their aged condition. They often appear old when still comparatively young. English-speaking old people, on the other hand, are never too old not to wish to appear young. For the terms "Greis" and "Greisin," which imply a weakened and somewhat helpless condition, there is no corresponding expression in the English language.

Observe a gang of laborers carrying a heavy log. If there are Germans among them, their heads and shoulders will be bent, as well as their knees, resembling caryatides in Gothic churches. They carry from below, upward. Those who speak English, on the other hand, will walk with heads erect, straight shoulders, and stiff knees, resembling the caryatides of the Greek temples. They carry from above, downward.

The German mode of expression is produced by contraction, expansion, contraction; the English by expansion, contraction, expansion. For the former, contraction takes place towards the diaphragm, first upward and then downward; that is, from the feet upward, and then from the head downward. For the latter, expansion takes place from the diaphragm, first upward and then downward; that is, from the diaphragm towards the head, and then from the diaphragm towards the feet.

Artists must study these things if they want to get a proper insight into life, and the action of life, characteristic of different nations. The simple study of anatomy gives them no clue to these matters. Everything we do is done differently from the same thing being done by a person speaking another language. The books on physiology do not make mention of these matters. They treat all nations alike. They tell an Englishman that in closing his mouth the muscles of the upper lip by a direct action are first raised and then lowered, while those of the lower are first lowered and then raised. As a matter of fact, the natural tendency with English-speaking people is towards having their mouths open. In closing the same the lower lip is first raised, then lowered, the upper is first lowered, then raised, and again lowered; whereupon the lower lip is raised. This gives three movements to each lip. The natural tendency with Germans is towards keeping their mouths closed. To firmly close the same they must raise the upper lip, lower the lower, lower the upper, and then raise the lower. This gives two movements to each lip. These motions are indirect with Anglo-Saxons, with Germans they are direct. With Anglo-Saxons the lower jaw is the main instrument; with Germans it is the upper. With Anglo-Saxons the lower moves up to the upper; while with Germans the upper closes down on the lower. That Anglo-Saxons move their lower jaw up to the upper, to them will appear as a matter of course; yet Germans do not do this; with them the lower jaw is first raised to be in position to be met by the upper, the latter being lowered from the atlas by motions made by the entire upper part of the head.

During speech the head of an Anglo-Saxon remains impassive; there is no perceptible movement except in connection with his lower jaw. Hence his stolid immovability in contradistinction with the mobility and vivacity of a German, whose entire head, often accompanied by his entire body, appears to take part in his speech. These motions, though fundamental with these peoples, vary with locality, individual character, temperament, etc. A German if he keeps his cranium entirely still will be unable to produce a sound; while an Anglo-Saxon will be unable to produce a sound if he should move it as Germans do. A German's power of vocal utterance lies in the flexibility of his cranium; an Anglo-Saxon's in that of his lower jaw.

An Anglo-Saxon grinds the teeth of his lower jaw, in anger or in passion, or while masticating food, or under any other circumstances, against those of his upper; a German grinds those of his upper jaw against those of the lower.

All motions in connection with vocal utterance on the part of an Anglo-Saxon are of a decidedly larger compass than those of a German; the latter being confined to the slight motions he is able to make with his head, while the former frequently draws down his lower jaw to a very great extent, far more so than a German would be able to draw down his.

The "life" with the German is in the upper, with Anglo-Saxons it is in the lower jaw; the former representing the thorax, the latter the abdomen. While the thorax, as already mentioned, with Germans is the predominating vehicle for every performance of life, with Anglo-Saxons it is the abdomen.

With Germans the lower jaw is the anvil, the upper the hammer; with Anglo-Saxons the upper is the anvil, the lower the hammer; the action, the life, always being with the hammer.

If you watch an American girl chewing taffy you will find her lower jaw going way down, then out, and up again. This is characteristic of the manner in which Anglo-Saxons breathe and speak. The chewing process, owing to the adhesion of the taffy to the teeth, together with the greater flexibility of a girl's jaws, brings out these features more strikingly than under ordinary circumstances. In chewing taffy the lower jaw (the hammer) meets with some difficulty in making its movements; it is therefore lowered as much as possible, so as to be able to more effectually close in with the upper (the anvil). A German girl's movements under similar conditions are restricted, being largely confined to the upper jaw, which cannot be raised to any great extent.

An Anglo-Saxon speaker or singer makes movements similar to such a chewer of taffy. He draws his lower jaw down and out to make room in the lower cavity of his mouth for the expression of his main sounds. These are the product of the abdominal cavity and find their way out through the oesophagus from beneath the lower surface of the tongue. Here they pass the replica and the frÆnum, which impart to them their rhythmical expression. Any one doubting the correctness of these statements, by making the replica and the frÆnum, or either of them, rigid, will not, if he is an Anglo-Saxon, be able to produce a single sound; if he is a German, he will still be able to utter his main sounds coming to the surface through the trachea, over and above his tongue. An Anglo-Saxon, on the other hand, may still speak when he makes the vocal cords of the larynx rigid; while a German in that case will be unable to produce any sound whatsoever. To these matters I have already called attention in a previous publication, in connection with the man who was deprived of his larynx by a surgical operation, but not of his power of speech.

A similar experiment may be made in regard to breathing. By making the soft palate, representing the thorax, rigid, you will not be able to inspire, though you may expire. By making the bottom of the mouth close to your teeth (the soft palate of the lower jaw), representing the abdomen, rigid, you will not be able to expire, though you may inspire. With a German the precisely opposite facts prevail. By making the soft palate rigid, he will stop expiration; by making the bottom of the mouth close to the teeth rigid, he will stop inspiration.

During vocal utterance, with Germans every superior muscle first moves downward, every inferior upward; while with Anglo-Saxons every superior muscle first moves upward, every inferior downward. This is preparatory and previous to action. During action the German opens his mouth, the Anglo-Saxon closes his. Hence the Anglo-Saxon's half-open mouth while in repose, and his almost stern expression while in action, pleasurable action even, which has provoked the witty saying that "Englishmen take to their pleasures sadly."

The abdomen being the centre of gravity for English speech, and the lower jaw being in direct communication with the same by way of the oesophagus, by making the lower jaw rigid you stop the flow of English sounds. The thorax, on the other hand, being the centre of gravity for German speech, and the upper jaw being in direct communication with the same by way of the trachea, in making this jaw rigid you stop the flow of German sounds.

ROTATION OF CENTRIPETAL AND CENTRIFUGAL ACTION

Speaking of centripetal and centrifugal motion as separate actions, there must, of course, be a rotation of these actions to produce a complete action of any kind. We, however, speak of the one which prevails over the other, as the action under consideration. Thus when I say a German's mode of eating is centripetal, I say so because the action of his jaws being direct, it is first centrifugal, then centripetal, then centrifugal, then again centripetal. When I say an Anglo-Saxon's mode is centrifugal, I say so because the action of his jaws being indirect, it is first centripetal, then centrifugal, then centripetal, then again centrifugal, and finally once more centripetal. This, with a German, of course, means: Open, close, open, close. With an Anglo-Saxon it means: Close, open, close, open, close. This, however, only gives the main features of an act of eating, etc., as well as uttering sounds; any of these acts, in reality, requiring eight movements to carry on one complete act. When centrifugal prevails centripetal follows, and when centripetal prevails centrifugal follows. It stands to reason that an action which is composed of open, close, open, close, or close, open, close, open, close, cannot continue in the same rotation indefinitely, but must be complemented by a motion of the opposite nature; such complementary action, however, always being executed inwardly and not outwardly. While the action of the jaws just now described precedes mastication, the inner action complementary thereof is accompanied by the act of swallowing.

Thus with a German there are four movements preceding mastication and four for swallowing; with an Anglo-Saxon there are five movements for the former and three for the latter; while the act of mastication proper with both nations consists of eight movements which are repeated as often as is necessary for the act of swallowing.

The respective manner in which knives and forks are handled in eating by Germans and Anglo-Saxons, as well as the different manner in which they dance, and the characters they use in writing, might be cited as results of the different modes in which centripetal and centrifugal actions prevail with them. The characters Germans use in writing being centrifugal in their nature and those Anglo-Saxons use centripetal, this can only be accounted for by assuming that the muscular action preparatory to the act of writing in both instances is of the opposite nature.

In consequence of the centrifugal movements of their jaws and lips, the teeth, with English-speaking persons, are always on exhibition; while the centripetal movement prevailing with Germans conceals them. The consequence is that English-speaking people pay the utmost attention to the care and perfection of their teeth, while Germans, in the highest ranks even, frequently neglect them to an almost shameful degree. The direct outcome of this state of affairs is the great advancement which the practice of dentistry has made in this country and in England, while it is one to which, on the continent of Europe, but comparatively little attention is being paid.

With English-speaking people, especially the women, whose lips are more flexible than men's, the teeth of the upper jaw are more frequently exposed than those of the lower, for this reason: The oesophagus being the main instrument for English speech, its sounds, in coming to the surface from beneath the tongue, require the latter to remain in a semi-raised position most of the time; the upper lip, being in the way of these sounds coming to the surface, must be raised for the same reason; in so doing it exposes the upper row of teeth. The lower lip is lowered for the sounds of the trachea for the same reason that the upper is raised for those of the oesophagus. Whenever the upper lip is raised the lower must be immediately lowered, and vice versa. With Anglo-Saxons the main movement is with the upper, with Germans it is with the lower lip. Owing to the centripetal action with Germans, these movements are less pronounced than they are with English-speaking people.

The act of smiling being produced in the same order as that of speaking, the same conditions prevail in relation to the same.

In speaking English you can "feel" that the upper lip is the main vehicle; it has all the life in it. In speaking German you can "feel" it is the lower, which for that language possesses the life. If you make the former rigid you cannot speak English; if you make the latter rigid you cannot speak German.

In connection with the movements of the lips it will be noticed that while the upper jaw and the roof of the mouth are dominated by the trachea and the thorax, and the lower jaw and the bottom of the mouth by the oesophagus and the abdomen, the upper lip is dominated by the sounds of the oesophagus, and the lower by those of the trachea. This, however, is owing to mechanical reasons only, as explained, and not to vital causes.

The foreigner who learns to speak the English language ever so well, though he may reside here almost a lifetime, if he does not learn to speak it idiomatically correct, will not be influenced by it to any great extent in any of the various manners of which I have made mention, either as regards his features, character, habits, motions, thoughts, etc.; but, in spite of his "English," he will still be a foreigner. This foreigner's children, however, provided he does not influence them to the contrary through pride of his native tongue, and if reared under native influences, will become thorough Americans.

There need be no fear, therefore, that immigration might bring to this country a permanent foreign element. Such elements, when they do come, are of a passing nature. Their offspring, in passing the crucial test of the English tongue, sink the foreigner into the all-absorbing element of the English idiom; and in so doing are merged into and become an integral part of the people of this country. They may come of whatever nation, from whatever land; no matter how they may appear, act, or speak, the English idiom will continue to make them Americans, in their children at least, in the future as it has in the past. There is thus in the centrifugal force which dominates the speech of Anglo-Saxons that which is a safeguard to the homogeneity as well as the institutions of this nation.

An Anglo-Saxon cannot be a bondsman; his language forbids it. The centrifugal force which prevails with him does not permit fetters. The children of all foreigners born here and speaking the English language come under its spell. If language did not have this supreme influence, there is no other influence that would have prevented this country long ago from having become inhabited in special districts with permanent groups of people foreign to its aims and institutions, and alien to its genius, its character, and its customs. In districts where German is spoken as the principal language, as in some parts of Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, it is not, with the native-born at least, the pure German language, but its idiomatic expression is that of the English tongue.

People say, "It is the climate." We have every climate under the sun; yet in all that is essential the man from Maine is as thoroughly American as the one from Texas; the gold-digger in the frozen regions of the Yukon as the man of the orange-groves of Florida or California; the American fisherman on the Banks of Newfoundland as those on the Gulf of Mexico; the man who battles on the plains against the Indians as he who serves under the banner of the Republic and upholds its glory in foreign lands and seas. You can tell an American the moment you look at him. Yet if you ask some of them where their parents were born, you will hear strange tales of lands and peoples across the sea and far away.

Language does not work every wonder, of course. The influence of heredity perpetuates that of language; but the latter is the primary influence. Nor can it be denied that every foreigner living here for some time, whether he has learned to speak English or not, will, to some extent at least, be influenced by the habits, customs, institutions, climate, and language of this country. This does not detract, however, from the force of my argument regarding language and its influence as the most vital force in shaping a people's characteristic traits, physically as well as spiritually.

There has been of late a great deal of talk and enthusiasm even regarding the desirability of a closer alliance between the two great English-speaking nations; their natural affinity and kinship. This affinity, this belonging together, this being of one family and one stock, is commonly expressed by this term, "English-speaking peoples." That which I have endeavored to explain at length is thus tacitly acknowledged to be correct through the use of this term, which implies that it is the English tongue which makes these peoples one in sentiment, in feeling, in their aims and purposes, as it makes them one in their physical appearance, their motions, the exercise of their faculties and functions, etc.