on in the most tragic
and decisive events of the world's history, makes the Bulgarian people
in peace very happy and fit for peaceful organised work, when obedience
and subordination are required. This slavish spirit is the greatest
virtue and the greatest sin of the Bulgarian nation.

Yet, I am speaking of our own sins, and I confess that our greatest sin
has been the too greatly developed love of personal independence. It is
the truest spirit of the Serbs. From this spirit originated all our
fortunes and all our misfortunes. From the point of view of this spirit
consider, please, all our sins in modern times: the killing of our
kings, the internal disturbances, and all the irregularity in the
political and social life of our country, and you will understand us
better; and if you understand us better, I am sure you will forgive us
more easily.

SERBIA IN PRAYER.

Serbia has sinned, Serbia has prayed. If you put on one side of the
scales Serbia's sins and on the other Serbia's sufferings and prayers, I
am sure the latter will send the balance down.

Again I must come back to the Serbian village. Prayer is there
considered not only as an epilogue to a sin but as a daily necessity.
The first duty after one's ablution in the morning is prayer. That is a
sanctified custom. Many songs on our national hero, Marko, begin as
follows:

"Marko got up early in the morning,
Washed his face and prayed to God."

And all the songs begin, I repeat it, with the verse:

"Dear God, we are thankful to Thee for all."

But not only the songs begin with prayer, every work and every pleasure
begins with prayer as well, every day and every night, every feast,
every rest and every journey. This custom has been partly broken and
abandoned only in the towns under the influence of the central European
materialistic civilisation. In the villages unbelief is unknown. In our
green fields, under our dark-blue heaven, in our little white houses and
wooden cottages, on the banks of our murmuring brooks and magnificent
rivers, atheism is unknown. Every family in a house is regarded as a
little religious community. The head of the family presides over this
community and prays with it. When I tell you that, I tell you my
personal experience. I was born in a village, in a family of forty-five
members. We prayed together every Saturday, after the weekly work was
over. In the evening my grandfather, the head of the family, called us
to