Incrustation

Her reception of her brother was most affectionate—there are times when the most artificial, by habit, become natural; when the early memories of the heart, for a short time at least, spring up as a fountain of living waters, overflowing the selfish vanities and conventional incrustations which the world has planted—giving honest smiles to the countenance; artless, yet loving words to the tongue; and the gratified heart seems restored to a new childhood.