Here a momentary surprise by the Turkish bands has now and then been possible, but never an occupation of the country.

The picturesqueness of the valley of the Duboko above the village can be rarely surpassed by wild landscape, and the whole section, the centre of which is the stronghold of Moratsha, is of a most interesting character, utterly unlike the Czernagora proper.
At the convent of Moratsha I found civilization and comfort.

The hegumenos, a Dalmatian by birth, but a patriot of the first quality, and a very militant Christian, made me most welcome.

I had some money from the English and Russian committees to distribute amongst the needy wounded and the families of the killed, and the gratitude of the nave hearts was touching to a degree I never saw in richer countries.
But what most surprised them was that some of it came from the English.

"Why, English!" exclaimed one old woman, as she started back when told that I was English; "they are a kind of Turk." All the world there thought only of the English as the allies of the Turks, but the hospitality they felt, and could show only in trifles, was unbounded.
I had brought with me a battle-axe I had found in the stores of Niksich and taken as my part of the booty, but had not noticed that it had never been sharpened, so that it was useless for cutting.