At this time a large amount of money from shipping dues came to the monastery. It is related in one place that a number of persons came from Cholmogor and Sergopolis with goods, which they bestowed on the monastery for its adornment and for the conversion of the Lapps. About this time Trifon built a new church at the mouth of the Petschenga River, or (according to other accounts) on an island at the lower part of the fjord. This church was called St. Mary’s Church. Thither at times Trifon retired and lived as a hermit, and performed Divine service. Close to the church, or near the spot where it stood, a small river discharges itself into the fjord; this is called Trifon’s River. It obtained its name because Trifon used to fish in it when he resided there as a hermit. At this time he undertook the building of a chapel by the river Pasvig in honour of the saintly and pious princes, Boris and Gleb. This chapel is, as is well known, still standing in South Varanger; it was consecrated, according to the inscription on the cross, by the priest Hilarion on June 24, 1565. Finally, Trifon undertook the erection of a little chapel by the Neiden River as a sign that this district had also been bestowed on the monastery by the Czar, and that it belonged to the Russian kingdom. Nothing was, however, done on the part of Denmark in the matter of its claim, no effort was made to secure the districts for that country, though Denmark had undoubtedly a better right to them than the Czar. Trifon died on December 15, 1583. He was probably born in 1500, or a year or two later. At any rate, he lived to a good old age. His birthday was probably February 1, as both that day, and December 15, were in after-times observed as festivals in his memory. He was buried, according to his will, in St. Mary’s Church, but at a later period his body was translated to the church which still exists, about a mile further from the sea, and which is called Trifon’s Church. The cross over his grave is now just outside the church door. This cross is a very tall one, and is esteemed so holy and so miraculous, that when the church was struck by lightning on one occasion and set on fire, the fire put itself out as soon as it had burnt down to the level of the cross. When Trifon was nearing his end and felt death to be approaching, he sent for old Gurij in order to receive the Sacrament. When he had received it, he raised his feeble hand and pointed to the picture of Ellen which he had hung by his bed. ‘You see that red blood,’ he whispered, ‘which is dropping down over that woman’s brow? That is patent to everybody’s eyes, but nobody has seen the tears of my heart. Those colourless tears have for fifty years dropped like burning resin on my sinful soul, and have tormented and crushed it night and day to my last breath.’ ‘Trifon, thou art dying! The Lord have mercy upon thee!’ prayed the old Gurij, as he knelt by the bedside.