Their custom of warming the houses by stoves pleased us greatly, and none of our company complained thereof; for, after you have taken in a breath or two of the air which indeed may seem strange on entering a room, you are sensible only of a soft and regular heat. M. de Montaigne, who slept in a room with a stove, was loud in its praises, saying that all night he felt a pleasant moderate warmth. In warming yourself you burn neither your face nor your boots, and are free from the smoke of a French fireplace. At home we put on our warm furred dressing-gowns when we enter our apartments, but here people appear in doublet and bareheaded in the warm rooms, and put on thick garments before going into the air. On the Thursday M. de Montaigne drank the same quantity of water, which acted well and rid him of a small amount of gravel. Still, he found these waters more powerful than any others which he had ever tried--whether from the strength of the water itself or from the present habit of his body--and accordingly he drank them more sparingly. On this same Thursday he held discourse with a minister from Zürich, a native of that city, and heard from him that the religion there was formerly Zwinglian, but that now it had come nearer to Calvinism, a somewhat milder creed. Being questioned as to predestination, he replied that they kept the mean between Geneva and Augsburg, but that their people were free to debate this question. For his own part he inclined rather to the side of Zwingli, praising him highly as one who came the nearest to primitive Christianity.