The saint wandered away from the shore. It was a flat, round island
whence rose in the centre a conical mountain capped with clouds. The
rain was falling incessantly--a gentle, soft rain which caused the simple
saint to exclaim in great delight: "This is the island of tears, the
island of contrition!"
Meantime the inhabitants had flocked in their tens of thousands to an
amphitheatre of rocks; they were penguins; but the holy man, rendered
deaf and purblind by his years, mistook excusably the multitude of silly,
erect, and self-important birds for a human crowd. At once he began to
preach to them the doctrine of salvation. Having finished his discourse
he lost no time in administering to his interesting congregation the
sacrament of baptism.
If you are at all a theologian you will see that it was no mean adventure
to happen to a well-meaning and zealous saint. Pray reflect on the
magnitude of the issues! It is easy to believe what M. Anatole France
says, that, when the baptism of the Penguins became known in Paradise, it
caused there neither joy nor sorrow, but a profound sensation.
M. Anatole France is no mean theologian himself.
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