But, as to the smoke, I confess to you that it is martyrdom. It almost killed me, and made me weep continually, although I had neither grief nor sadness in my heart. It sometimes grounded all of us who were in the cabin; that is, it caused us to place our [190] mouths against the earth in order to breathe. For, although the Savages were accustomed to this torment, yet occasionally it became so dense that they, as well as I, were compelled to prostrate themselves, and as it were to eat the earth, so as not to drink the smoke. I have sometimes remained several hours in this position, especially during the most severe cold and when it snowed; for it was then the smoke assailed us with the greatest fury, seizing us by the throat, nose, and eyes. How bitter is this drink! How strong its odor! How hurtful to the eyes are its fumes! I sometimes thought I was going blind; my eyes burned like fire, they wept or distilled drops like an alembic; I no longer saw anything distinctly, like the good man who said, _video homines velut arbores ambulantes_. I repeated the Psalms of my Breviary as best I could, knowing them half by heart, and waited until the pain might relax a little to recite the lessons; and when [191] I came to read them they seemed written in letters of fire, or of scarlet; I have often closed my book, seeing things so confusedly that it injured my sight. Quelqu'vn me dira que ie deuois sortir de ce trou enfumé, & prendre l'air, & ie luy répondray, que l'air estoit ordinairement en ce temps-là si froid, que les arbres qui ont la peau plus dure que celle de l'homme, & le corps plus solide, ne luy pouuoient resister, se fendans iusques au coeur faisans vn bruit comme d'vn mousquet en s'éclatans: ie sortois neantmoins quelque fois de ceste taniere, fuyant la rage de la fumée pour me mettre à la mercy du froid, contre lequel ie taschois de m'armer, m'enueloppant de ma couuerture comme vn Irlandois, & en cet equipage assis sur la neige, ou sur quelque arbre abbatu, ie recitois mes Heures: le mal estoit que la neige n'auoit pas plus de pitié de mes yeux que la fumée. Some one will tell me that I ought to have gone out from this smoky hole to get some fresh air; and I answer him that the air was usually so cold at those times that the trees, which have a harder skin than man, and a more solid body, could not stand it, splitting even to the core, and making a noise like the report of a musket. Nevertheless, I occasionally emerged from this den, fleeing the rage of the smoke to place myself at the mercy of the cold, against which I tried to arm myself by wrapping up in my blanket like an Irishman; and in this garb, seated upon the snow or a fallen tree, I recited my Hours; the trouble was, the snow had no more pity upon my eyes than the smoke.