_Father._ Both such and many other tales are told in that book which seem so marvelous that many express their doubts about them; but it seems to me that there is no need to compare the wonders that are described there with those that we have in our own country, which would seem as strange to men yonder as those that you have just mentioned seem to us. For it must be possible to tame wild beasts and other animals, though they be fierce and difficult to manage. But it would seem a greater marvel to hear about men who are able to tame trees and boards, so that by fastening boards seven or eight ells long under his feet, a man, who is no fleeter than other men when he is barefooted or shod merely with shoes, is made able to pass the bird on the wing, or the fleetest greyhound that runs in the race, or the reindeer which leaps twice as fast as the hart. For there is a large number of men who run so well on skis that they can strike down nine reindeer with a spear, or even more, in a single run. Now such things must seem incredible, unlikely, and marvelous in all those lands where men do not know with what skill and cleverness it is possible to train the board to such great fleetness that on the mountain side nothing of all that walks the earth can escape the swift movements of the man who is shod with such boards. But as soon as he removes the boards from his feet, he is no more agile than any other man. In other places, where men are not trained to such arts, it would be difficult to find a man, no matter how swift, who would not lose all his fleetness if such pieces of wood as we have talked about were bound to his feet. We, however, have sure information and, when snow lies in winter, have opportunity to see men in plenty who are expert in this art. Not long since, we mentioned a certain fact which must be thought exceedingly strange elsewhere, as it runs wholly counter to the order which holds good in most places with respect to the change from night to day, namely, that here the sun shines as bright and fair and with as much warmth by night as by day through a large part of the summer. In our own country, in Möre, there is a bog called the Bjarkudal bog, which must also seem wonderful: for every sort of wood that is thrown into it and left there three winters loses its nature as wood and turns into stone.[176] If it is thrown upon the fire, it will glow like stone, though before it would have burned like wood. I have seen and handled many such stones of which the half that rose above the mire was wooden, while the part submerged in the bog was wholly petrified. Now we must call that a marvel, for the bog is located in a forest which is heavily wooded with young trees of all sorts; and these are not injured so long as they are green and growing, but as soon as one is hewn down and, having begun to decay, is thrown into the bog, it turns into stone. Footnote 176: