vately persuaded that his feelings generally are as praiseworthily poignant as his neighbor's. Nevertheless, his equally infallible estimate of others may hint to him that this is possibly a pleasing personal delusion, since in those about him he perceives very clearly that in strength of selfhood man varies markedly from man. Some men affect him instantly and indescribably as of strong personality; others as of a feeble one. Scanning them critically for objective proof of this subjective feeling of his toward them, he finds in their behavior unmistakable signs that it is founded on fact. He notices that the feeble brother unconsciously plays chameleon to all he meets, while the positive person seems largely sufficient unto himself. In short, it becomes perfectly apparent that men differ as much in selfhood as they do in, say, artistic taste.
Just as men of any one community differ thus among themselves, so whole communities contrast with one another in the same way. The French and the Anglo-Saxons offer us an instance at our very elbow. What is more, both sides to the antithesis recognize the difference perfectly, and apply
