With the exception of Whitsuntide and the occasional
visits of pilgrims, he lives entirely alone, subsisting on vegetables.
His appearance was most patriarchal, his snowy white beard and
saintly look impressing us greatly. When he heard that we were from
England, he embraced and kissed us repeatedly, much to our
embarrassment. His joy knew no bounds, and he kept us with him in his
rock-hewn cell for a considerable time. He even consented to be
photographed, for the first time in his life, facing the ordeal with
unflinching courage.

The descent to the lower monastery was made in record time, and with
half-closed eyes. We found the Archbishop standing in the shade of an
enormous tree surrounded by a large ring of Montenegrins. He beckoned
to us, asking us for our impressions, and needless to say we solemnly
drank coffee. This beverage began to pall before we left Montenegro.

After partaking of a splendid meal (for the country), washed down with
wine such as is not to be obtained elsewhere in the land, we paid a
farewell visit to His Grace and departed.

Already the booths were fast disappearing and a mere handful of
peasants remained. Many pilgrims journey from seven to eight days on
foot or on horseback to Ostrog, over mountain passes and barren
regions; so that the pilgrimage is very real.

Before we leave Ostrog, we will mention one of the miracles which we
had the opportunity of authenticating.

A wretched Turk living to-day in Podgorica, a cripple crawling
painfully on hands and knees, once made the pilgrimage to Ostrog.
Friends carried him to the shrine, where he lay all night. Then he
rose up and walked back to Podgorica rejoicing, with those who had
carried him the day before. As he crossed the Vizier bridge, he
sceptically remarked that he would have been healed without undergoing
the farce of the pilgrimage. Straightway he fell to the ground, the
same helpless cripple that he was before.

The Turk and the witnesses still live--in fact it happened but a few
years ago--to tell the tale.

The road to Niksic, which we left to proceed to Ostrog, climbs to the
height of 750 metres in crossing the mountain ridge dividing the
valley of the Zeta from that of Niksic. The scenery is throughout fine
and wild. In a succession of serpentines, the road descends sharply on
to the great plain, the fertile valley of Niksic.

The town can be seen immediately on leaving the mountainous gorge, the
cupola of the cathedra