such a deed, but the athletic feat of carrying
such a weighty object over that difficult country, are very
characteristic of this people. It is fired annually during the feast
of S. Nicholas.

The worthy Abbot was greatly annoyed to find that we had ordered food
below, and still more when he heard that we were returning to Kolasin
the same afternoon. He repeatedly urged us to spend a few days with
him, but, enjoyable as the visit would have been, previous engagements
forbade our acceptance.

A second priest waylaid us as we were leaving for our meal, and
carried us off to his room, where more coffee was served. He had
travelled much in Turkey and the Black Sea, and we had a very pleasant
conversation, but, after a short time, the pangs of hunger forced us
to excuse ourselves. Our humble meal, which we partook of in the best
chamber (and only bedroom), was hardly over when the young priest
again rejoined us, bringing with him an enormous bottle of wine. Very
solemnly he filled our glasses, and proposed the health of His Majesty
King Edward VII. Our surprise was so great that we almost forgot to
drink. And then came many questions as to the progress of the Boer
war, questions with which, by the way, we were often assailed by the
more intelligent classes during our travels.

To quote an instance which happened to myself once in Cetinje. While
waiting outside the monastery for the appearance of the Prince, who
was attending divine service within, I entered into conversation with
a gendarme. We spoke of many things, and to my surprise, for he was
but an ignorant peasant, he inquired as to the progress of the war.
He asked the nature of the country, on which subject I was luckily
able to enlighten him. Parts of it are not at all unlike Montenegro.
At this he pricked up his ears.

"Thou hast been to the Transvaal?" he asked with increased interest.
"Are the people brave like we are?"

"They are brave," I said, "but not as ye are. They only shoot at long
distances, and object very strongly to hand-to-hand fighting."

The stalwart Montenegrin looked puzzled.

"Shooting is good," he answered; and after a pause he added, "at
_first_, but that is not fighting. It is an empty glory to shoot one's
enemy, if one cannot prove it afterwards." I knew he was alluding to
the decapitating process. "And then the wild charge, the cutting with
the handjar when rifles are thrown away--_that_ is fighting."

I explained that our soldier