THE IVY. 313 



in naked helplessness, themselves driven to and 

 fro, whithersoever the prince of the power of the 

 air is pleased to bend their denuded and dishon- 

 oured branches. The pelting hail, the heavy 

 snow-drift, meet no obstruction from them, in 

 their full career against the unprotected Ivy. It 

 stands exposed, and in itself so weak a thing that 

 the operation of a single blustering day w T ould 

 suffice to rend it piecemeal, only for the unseen 

 support enabling it to smile a calm defiance in the 

 face of every assailant. And could any type be 

 more impressively just, as regards the truly mili- 

 tant church of Ireland at this day 1 I shall say 

 nothing about the towering trees ; they have the 

 advantage over sentient and responsible men, in 

 that they never proffered their patronage in sum- 

 mer days, nor consciously withdrew it, when the 

 wintry tempest began to rage. I reproach not the 

 innocent trees of my garden ; but I acknowledge 

 the fitness of their station, and of their mutability, 

 to render the similitude perfect. The Ivy is that 

 wherewith I have to do ; the Ivy in its two-fold 

 character of actual weakness, and imparted 

 strength — of stormy persecution applied from 

 without, and indestructible endurance supplied 

 from within. 



The real and acknowledged condition of many, 

 and, in the south, a large majority, of the devoted 



ministers of the Irish church at this day, is such, 



27 



