At that moment, the Devil, who never tires, went out from the sheds and, under the appearance of a monk called Samsok, he approached the holy man and tempted him thus: 

“Father, the inhabitants of the island of Hoedic commit sins unceasingly.  Every moment that passes removes them farther from God.  They are soon going to use violence towards the chapel that you have raised with your own venerable hands on the shore of their island.  Time is pressing.  Do you not think that your stone trough would carry you more quickly towards them if it were rigged like a boat and furnished with a rudder, a mast, and a sail, for then you would be driven by the wind?  Your arms are still strong and able to steer a small craft.  It would be a good thing, too, to put a sharp stem in front of your apostolic trough.  You are much too clear-sighted not to have thought of it already.”

“Truly time is pressing,” answered the holy man.  “But to do as you say, Samson, my son, would it not be to make myself like those men of little faith who do not trust the Lord?  Would it not be to despise the gifts of Him who has sent me this stone vessel without rigging or sail?”

This question, the Devil, who is a great theologian, answered by another.

“Father, is it praiseworthy to wait, with our arms folded, until help comes from on high, and to ask everything from Him who can do all things, instead of acting by human prudence and helping ourselves?

“It certainly is not,” answered the holy Mael, “and to neglect to act by human prudence is tempting God.”

“Well,” urged the Devil, “is it not prudence in this case to rig the vessel?”

“It would be prudence if we could not attain our end in any other way.”

“Is your vessel then so very speedy?”

“It is as speedy as God pleases.”

“What do you know about it?  It goes like Abbot Budoc’s mule.  It is a regular old tub.  Are you forbidden to make it speedier?”

“My son, clearness adorns your words, but they are unduly over-confident.  Remember that this vessel is miraculous.”

“It is, father.  A granite trough that floats on the water like a cork is a miraculous trough.  There is not the slightest doubt about it.  What conclusion do you draw from that?”

“I am greatly perplexed.  Is it right to perfect so miraculous a machine by human and natural means?”

“Father, if you lost your right foot and God restored it to you, would not that foot be miraculous?”

“Without doubt, my son.”

“Would you put a shoe on it?”

“Assuredly.”