then grows till midnight, and then diminishes and fails at midday: and another in Epirus which we call to day Albania, the tower without venom and the inaccessible mountain: then as I said, since you have contemplated these things and several others not less admirable, I wish to entertain you about a marvel which I saw, during my sojourn in Bezenson, to know from you, whether in all your journey, you saw a similar thing. Know then that the day of the festival of St. John Baptist, a young man, provided with an honest knowledge, with whom I had made some little acquaintance, presented me with an icicle, to cool my wine at dinner, and which I admired greatly, on account of the time of the year in which we then were, begging him who gave it to me to tell me where he had discovered this rare present for that time. He answered me that every year, the day of the solemnity of the festival of St. John Baptist, the inhabitants of a village, which he named, were bound to come to offer the great church of St. John of Bezenson, a goodly quantity of ice, which they got in a wood, and brought to town at night on horses, for fear that by day it should melt, and that one of his cronies had given to him what he had given to me. "Suddenly there flamed up in me a desire to see this place, where in the height of the summer, ice was to be found. When he who had presented me with the icicle saw this, he promised to accompany me, not having as yet, any more than myself, seen this marvel. I did not hatch very long this decision, all the more as all those, to whom I mentioned it, encouraged me to carry it out as soon as I could, assuring me that I should see a strange thing, and that even the Duke of Alva on his return from Flanders, passing through Franche Comté, had wished to see this novelty. Therefore calling on the promise of the one who was the cause of undertaking this journey, we went together to Versey, a fine town, distant five leagues from Bezenson, turning a little off our direct route, to go to see a literary man, at this said Versey, who having called on me at Bezenson, had extracted from me the promise of going to see him. There happened to me in this spot, what the poet du Bellay says happened to him, on his return from Italy, passing through the Grisons, to go into France: who, after having chanted the troubles there are in the passage, says that the Swiss made him drink so much, that he does not remember anything he saw in that country. Likewise, I can assure you that my host, following the custom of those of the country (who do not think they are treating a man properly if they do not make him drink a lot, taking that from the Germans, their neighbors) made us carouse so well, that when we went to bed, we were very gay boys. For although we had both made an agreement on the road, yet our host knew so well how to win us over, saying that those who would not drink, gave reason to think badly of them, and that they had