e of
it. If, on the other hand, one of our agents makes a blunder and falls,
why, he will only break his own neck. He will, moreover, fall in the
midst of us, and, should he escape with life, we can either catch him
and throw him back again, or we can send a better hand up in his place,
to serve out the rest of his time. They also maintain that one beam,
supported by all the citizens, is much less likely to slip than three
beams, supported by three powers of very uncertain, not to say unequal,
forces.

Such, in effect, is the substance of the respective national allegories
of Leaphigh and of Leaplow; I say allegories, for both governments seem
to rely on this ingenious form of exhibiting their great distinctive
national sentiments. It would, in fact, be an improvement, were all
constitutions henceforth to be written in this manner, since they would
necessarily be more explicit, intelligible, and sacred than they are by
the present attempt at literality.

Having explained the governing principles of these two important states,
I now crave the reader's attention, for a moment, while I go a little
into the details of the MODUS OPERANDI, in both cases.

Leaphigh acknowledged a principle, in the outset, that Leaplow totally
disclaimed, viz., that of primogeniture. Being an only child myself,
and having no occasion for research on this interesting subject, I never
knew the basis of this peculiar right, until I came to read the great
Leaphigh commentator, Whiterock, on the governing rules of the social
compact. I there found that the first-born, MORALLY considered, is
thought to have better claims to the honors of the genealogical tree, on
the father's side, than those offspring whose origin is to be referred
to a later period in connubial life. On this obvious and highly
discriminating principle, the crown, the rights of the nobles, and
indeed all other rights, are transferred from father to son, in the
direct male line, according to primogeniture.

Nothing of this is practised in Leaplow. There, the supposition of
legitimacy is as much in favor of the youngest as of the oldest born,
and the practice is in conformity. As there is no hereditary chief to
poise on one of the legs of the great tripod, the people at the foot of
the beam choose one from among themselves, periodically, who is called
the Great Sachem. The same people choose another set, few in number,
who occupy a common seat, on another leg. These they term the