as town criers; madmen shrieking horribly; blind troubadours droning
out songs of heroes on their guslars. If the tourist has witnessed and
understood all this, then he has seen something of Montenegro. But
beyond those lofty mountains which rise on either side of the carriage
road, live these same people in their rude villages. There are towns
far away, unconnected by any road, to reach which the traveller must
journey wearily by horse and on foot, over boulder-strewn paths, by
the side of roaring torrents, through the cool depths of primeval
forests, and over the snow-clad spurs of rugged mountains. There he
will find men accustomed to face death at any moment, who delight in
giving hospitality, and who talk of other lands as "the world
outside." These are the Montenegrins to whom we owe some of the most
pleasant reminiscences of our lives.

Our book does not describe the whole country, as unfortunately we were
unable to visit the northern districts and the lofty Durmitor, but we
certainly saw the more interesting half, namely, the whole of the
Albanian frontier.

Amongst those hardy borderers we made many warm friends, but it would
be invidious to mention names amongst so many. We came to the country
with a single introduction, to Dr. Stefanelli, the companion of many
of our journeys, and we left at the conclusion of six months with a
host of friends. Still to two we wish humbly to express our gratitude
for many acts of, at the time, unknown courtesy, namely, H.R.H. Prince
Nicolas, and the Metropolitan of Montenegro, Mitrofanban. As a slight
token of our thanks to, and admiration of, that true father of his
people, Prince Nicolas, we respectfully dedicate this book to the
soldier-poet and prince of the Land of the Black Mountain.