They started to work, but as there
were few soldiers to treat, Dr. Lilias, being a lady, interested herself
in the Turkish female population, a thing which the Montenegrins thought
a criminal waste of time, and tried to stop.
We got a bedroom in the hotel, and tired out, tried to sleep; but the
occupants of the cafe began a set of howling songs, very unmusical, and
kept us awake till past twelve. We have never heard this kind of singing
anywhere else.
Next day we crossed the river and explored the quaint and beautiful
streets of the Turkish quarter. The people are equally offensive on both
sides of the town; however, Podgoritza seems to be the White-chapel of
Montenegro--and we finally had to take refuge in the sheds of the French
wireless telegraphy. The commandant at the motor depot again treated us
rudely, but the Prefect was nice, this time. He promised us a carriage
on the morrow if no motor were forthcoming.
After supper the people began the awful howling songs; also there was a
wild orchestra which had one clarinet for melody and about ten deep
bass trumpets for accompaniment.
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