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"
"It never struck me in that light before," said Mr. Heard.
"No? Our reverence for inspired idiots: has it never struck you? Don't
you realize that we are still in the stage of that ENFANT TERRIBLE of
Christianity, Paul of Tarsus, and his gift of tongues? In the stage of
these Russians here, with their decayed Messiah? What do you think of
them?"
"I must say they look pretty, all bathing together. Rather improper.
But decidedly apostolic. You know I am not easily shocked in such
matters. When you have lived in Africa among the M'tezo! Lovely
fellows. I assure you they could give points to anyone on this island.
And your friends the Bulanga! To think that I once baptized three
hundred of them in one day. And the very next week they ate up old Mrs.
Richardson, our best lady preacher. The poor dear! We buried her riding
boots, I remember. There was nothing else to bury. . . . It's getting
warm, isn't it? Makes one feel sleepy."
"Sleepy? I don't agree with you at all. That Russian sect, Heard, had
between two and three million followers out there.


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