I have seen, in the cold end of September, in the high mountain districts, a whole family of little children, whose united rags would not have made a comfortable garment for one of them, playing with glee in the fields.
On one occasion, when I had been caught by the heavy autumn rains in remote Moratcha, roads washed away and riding a mile impossible, I had to take with me two or three men, beside my guide and horse boy, to make a road where I had to travel, and we were obliged to halt for the night at one of the poorest villages I ever saw in Montenegro.

The best house in it was offered me, with such fare as they had, to supplement bread which I had brought from the convent.

The house had but one room, with a large bedstead built in it of small trees in the rough, and the beaten ground for floor.

The bed was given up to me, and the family lay on the ground with a layer of straw, which was all that the bedstead had in the way of bedding.

When we left in the morning I was asked for no compensation, nor did it seem to be expected; but, as my silver had been expended, I gave the woman of the house (the husband being at the war) a gold ten-franc piece.