Whitsunday [15] he surely ought to do.) Look! he _does_ repeat it; but
these driving April showers perplex the images, and _that_, perhaps, it
is which gives him the air of one who acts reluctantly or evasively. Now,
again, the sun shines more brightly, and the showers have all swept off
like squadrons of cavalry to the rear. We will try him again.

Pluck an anemone, one of these many anemones which once was called the
sorcerer's flower, [16] and bore a part, perhaps, in this horrid ritual
of fear; carry it to that stone which mimics the outline of a heathen
altar, and once was called the sorcerer's altar; [16] then, bending your
knee, and raising your right hand to God, say, "Father which art in
heaven, this lovely anemone, that once glorified the worship of fear, has
travelled back into thy fold; this altar, which once reeked with bloody
rites to Cortho, has long been rebaptized into thy holy service. The
darkness is gone; the cruelty is gone which the darkness bred; the moans
have passed away which the victims uttered; the cloud has vanished which
once sat continually upon their graves--cloud of protestation that
ascended forever to thy throne from the tears of the defenceless, and
from the anger of the just. And lo! we--I thy servant, and this dark
phantom, whom for one hour on this thy festival of Pentecost I make _my_
servant--render thee united worship in this thy recovered temple."

Lo! the apparition plucks an anemone, and places it on the altar; he
also bends his knee, he also raises his right hand to God. Dumb he is;
but sometimes the dumb serve God acceptably. Yet still it occurs to
you, that perhaps on this high festival of the Christian church he may
have been overruled by supernatural influence into confession of his
homage, having so often been made to bow and bend his knee at murderous
rites. In a service of religion he may be timid. Let us try him,
therefore, with an earthly passion, where he will have no bias either