ust as well as natural
ones. If his dolls would not work, he put strings and wires behind them
to make them nod their heads and open their eyes, and then persuaded
other people, and perhaps half-persuaded himself, that they were alive.
If the hand of his weather-glass went down, he nailed it up to insure a
fine day, and tortured, burnt, or murdered every one who said it did not
keep up of itself. And many other foolish and wicked things he did,
which little boys need not hear of yet.

But at last his punishment came, according to the laws of his
grandmother, Madam How, which are like the laws of the Medes and
Persians, and alter not, as you and all mankind will sooner or later
find; for he grew so rich and powerful that he grew careless and lazy,
and thought about nothing but eating and drinking, till people began to
despise him more and more. And one day he left the dungeon of Analysis
so ill guarded, that Analysis got out and ran away. Great was the hue
and cry after him; and terribly would he have been punished had he been
caught. But, lo and behold, folks had grown so disgusted with Synthesis
that they began to take the part of Analysis. Poor men hid him in their
cottages, and scholars in their studies. And when war arose about
him,--and terrible wars did arise,--good kings, wise statesmen, gallant
soldiers, spent their treasure and their lives in fighting for him. All
honest folk welcomed him, because he was honest; and all wise folk used
him, for, instead of being a conceited tyrant like Synthesis, he showed
himself the most faithful, diligent, humble of servants, ready to do
every man's work, and answer every man's questions. And among them all
he got so well fed that he grew very shortly into the giant that he ought
to have been all along; and was, and will be for many a year to come,
perfectly able to take care of himself.

As for poor Synthesis, he really has fallen so low in these days, that
one cannot but pity him. He now goes about humbly after his brother,
feeding on any scraps that are thrown to him, and is snubbed and rapped
over the knuckles, and told one minute to hold his tongue and mind his
own business, and the next that he has no business at all to mind, till
he has got into such a poor way that some folks fancy he will die, and
are actually digging his grave already, and composing his epitaph. But
they are trying to wear the bear's skin before the bear is killed; for
Synthesis is not d