that it contains,
the mystery of individuality is surely the most inscrutable of all.

'What is the difference between Gog and Magog?' somebody wants to know;
and I am glad that somebody asked the question, for it gives me the
opportunity of pointing out that between Gog and Magog there is all the
difference in the world. There is a difference in girth; there is a
difference in height; and there is a difference in fibre. I have just
run a tape round both trees. Magog gives a measurement of just six
feet; whilst Gog puts those puny proportions to shame with a record of
seven feet six inches. I have not attempted to climb the trees; but I
can see at a glance that Gog is at least eight feet taller than his
brother. Nor do these measurements sum up the whole of Gog's
advantage. For you cannot glance at the twins without seeing that Gog
is incalculably the sturdier. In the trunk of Magog there is a huge
cavity into which a child could creep and be perfectly concealed; but
Gog is as sound as a bell. Any one who has seen two brothers grow up
side by side--the one sturdy, masculine, virile, and full of health;
the other, puny, delicate, fragile, and threatened with disease--knows
how I feel whenever I pass between these two sentries at the gate. I
am full of admiration for the glorious strength of Gog; I am touched to
tenderness by the comparative frailty of poor Magog. It is odd that
two trees of the same age, growing together under precisely identical
conditions, should have turned out so differently. There must be a
reason for it. Is there? There is!

The fact is, Gog gets all the wind. I have often watched the storm
come sweeping down on the two tall trees, and it is grand to watch
them. The huge things sway and bend like tossing plumes, and sometimes
you almost fancy that they will break like reeds before the fury of the
blast. Great branches are torn off; smaller boughs and piles of twigs
are scattered all around like wounded soldiers on a hotly contested
field; but the trees outlive the storm, and you love them all the
better for it. But, all the time, you can see that it is Gog that is
doing the fighting. The fearful onslaught breaks first upon him; and
the force of the attack is broken by the time it reaches Magog. It may
be that Gog is very fond of Magog, and, pitying his frailty, seeks to
shelter him. It certainly looks like it. But, if so, it is a mistaken
kindness. It is just because Gog has