had to bear the brunt of so many
attacks that he has sent down his roots so deeply and has become so
magnificently strong. It is because Magog has always been protected
and sheltered that he is so feeble, and cuts so sorry a figure beside
his stouter brother.

And now I find myself sitting at the feet of Gog and Magog, not only
literally but metaphorically, and they begin to teach me things. It is
not half a bad thing to be living in a world that has some fight in it.
It is a good thing for a man to be buffeted and knocked about. I fancy
that Gog and Magog could say some specially comforting things to
parents. The tendency among us is to try to secure for our children
the kind of life that Magog leads, hidden, sheltered, and protected.
Yet nobody can take a second glance at poor Magog--his shorter stature,
his smaller girth, his softer fibre--without entertaining the gravest
doubts concerning the wisdom of so apparently considerate a choice. It
is perfectly natural, and altogether creditable to the fond hearts and
earnest solicitude of doting parents, that they should seek to rear
their children like hot-house plants, protected from the nipping frosts
and frigid blasts of a chilling world. But it can be overdone. A
great meeting, attended by five thousand people, was recently held in
London to deal with the White Slave question. And I was greatly struck
by the fact that one of the most experienced and observant of the
speakers--the Rev. J. Ernest Rattenbury, of the West London
Mission--declared with deep emotion and impressive emphasis that 'it is
the girls who come from _the sheltered homes_ who stand in the greatest
peril.' Perhaps I shall render the most practical service if I put the
truth the other way. Instead of dwelling so much on Magog, look at
Gog. I know fathers and mothers who are inclined to break their hearts
because their boys and girls have had to go out from the shielding care
of their homes into the rough and tumble of the great world. Look at
Gog, I say again, look at Gog!

Was it not Alfred Russel Wallace who tried to help an emperor-moth, and
only harmed it by his ill-considered ministry? He came upon the
creature beating its wings and struggling wildly to force its passage
through the narrow neck of its cocoon. He admired its fine
proportions, eight inches from the tip of one wing to the tip of the
other, and thought it a pity that so handsome a creature should be
subjected to so s