g
situated on a slight eminence. It was Krusevac, one of the Prince's
country palaces, or, to be more correct, Prince Mirko's palace, as
"Voivoda" or Duke of the Zeta, which ancient and historical title is
his. Then for some distance we skirted the Moraca, driving in an
opposite direction to Podgorica till we came to the "Vizier" bridge,
over which we crossed and retraced our way to the town.

The River Moraca is a large mountain torrent, into which the Zeta
flows only a short distance away from the town. It rushes over great
boulders, forming here and there formidable rapids, between two deep
banks, which, without any warning, break off suddenly from the flat
and form precipitous sides fully two hundred feet deep. Two or three
hundred yards away, no gap or break in the plain is observable.
Sometimes the river swells almost to the top of its banks, and then
the effect must be terrible. There is a ford near Podgorica, which the
peasants use to avoid the long detour by the bridge, but woe to the
man who makes a false step. Three women, carrying loads of wood, lost
their footing during our stay, and were drowned. In its waters we swam
every evening, and even in midsummer, when the river is low, the
strength of the current required an expert and powerful swimmer to
breast it, and it was invariably very cold.

[Illustration: THE VIZIER BRIDGE]

The bridge, built by an old Turkish Vizier many, many years ago, is
most picturesque, and completely in keeping with the rocky banks and
the foam-flecked, emerald-green waters rushing beneath. From this
bridge a man once sprang into the depths below, to show that he was
not intoxicated. As a matter of fact he was, but he emerged dripping a
hundred yards lower down, unhurt and at least in his right mind.

There used to be a deep indentation in a stone of the bridge
parapet--during our stay in the country it has been plastered
up--which credulous Montenegrins relate to be the cut of a Turkish
horseman pursuing a fleeing Montenegrin. The story goes that the Turk
severed the Montenegrin's head from his body, and so violent was the
stroke that he cut into the stone wall as well.

Again, just before the town, two slabs, standing exactly thirty paces
apart, mark a similar episode, and the headless man is said to have
run that distance before falling. This legend--which, furthermore, has
many eye-witnesses still living in the town who swear to the truth--is
more capable of belief if one