Church of the Citadel is now
dedicated to that saint, an inscription on the wall stating that it
takes the place of the larger church, _ex urbis obsidio anno 1674
lapsae_, and offering an indulgence of 100 days for every visit paid to
it, with the sensible proviso _una duntaxat vice per diem._ Soldiers not
being generally made of the confessing sex, or of confessing material,
there is only one confessional provided for the 6,000 souls which the
citadel can accommodate.

The Cavalry Barracks are in the lower part of the town, and near them is
a large building with evident traces of ecclesiastical architecture on
the outside. It is, in fact, a very fine church converted into stables,
retaining its interior features in excellent preservation. Under the
corn-bin lies a lady who had two husbands and fifteen children,
_Antigone in parentes, Porcia in conjuges, Sempronia in liberos_; while
a few yards further east, less agreeably placed, is an ecclesiastic of
the Gorrevod family, who reckoned Prince and Bishop and Baron among his
titles. The nave of this Church of S. Michael accommodates thirty
horses, and the north aisle thirteen; the south is considered more
select, and is boarded off for the decani, in the shape of officers'
chargers. The north side of the chancel gives room for six horses, and
the south side for a row of saddle-blocks. It had been an oversight on
the part of the original architect of the church that no place was
prepared for the daily hay; a fault which the military restorers have
remedied by improvising a lady-chapel, where the hay for the day is
placed in the morning. With Spelman in my mind, I asked if the stables
were not unhealthy; but the soldiers said they were the healthiest in
the town.[45]

The Glaciere of Vaise had proved, as has been seen, to be a
mare's-nest; and yet, after all, it produced a foal; for while I was
endeavouring to overcome the evening heat of Besancon in a
_specialite_ for ice, I found that the owner of the establishment was
also the owner of the two glacieres of Vaise; and in the course of the
conversation which followed, he told me of the existence of a natural
glaciere near the village of Arc-sous-Cicon, twenty kilometres from
Pontarlier, which he had himself seen. As I had arranged to meet my
sisters at Neufchatel, in two days' time, for the purpose of visiting
a glaciere in the Val de Travers, this piece of information came very
opportunely, and I determined to attempt b