The bazaar--Turkish gipsies--The vendetta--An assassin--A way to pay debts--Bosnian refugees--A card-party--Paving stones --Burglars--Army doctors--Change for a ten pound note--Our horses 132
Our Lady of Scutari--A miracle--The fête--A funeral--A drunken Arnaut--Our escort--Two more Britons--Warm discussion--War-- Marco 151
March to Podgoritza--An Albanian khan--Our cook--The Fund-- Across the lake--Night visitors--The frontier--Podgoritza-- The armourer--The war minister--Dobra Pushka 163
War preparations--Our camp visitors--An impromptu ball-- English-consul fashion--Robbers--Ruins of Douka--A dangerous bath--Bastinado--Karatag yok mir 181
An escort--A Turkish dinner-party--Brigands--Our sportsman--A chief of the league--Objects of the rebels--Achmet Agha--A meeting of the league--The boulim-bashi of Klementi--An Arnaut chieftain 194
To Gussinje--The valley of the Drin--A rough road--In the mountains--Hospitality--A pretty woman--A scientific frontier --Franciscans--Dog Latin--Marco Milano 215
The mission-house--Gropa--The mandolin--A letter from Ali Bey --A trap--Our throats in danger--Retreat--Nik Leka--Proverbs-- A pleasant evening 238
Rosso and Effendi--A barbaric feast--Patoulis--Mead--The future of Albania--The Italia Irridenta--Sport in Meriditia--Dick Deadeye 251
The coffin--A Pasha's death--Horse-dealing--The postman-- Brigands--An hotel bill--Down the Bojana--Dulcigno--Pirates --Farewell 268
Where to go to?--An unknown country--The expedition--Our inventor--Our equipment--The doctor--A useful remedy--The start--Venice--Trieste.
One day last autumn I was sitting in my Temple chambers, wondering what I should do with myself in the Long Vacation, when I was aroused from my reverie by the entrance of my clerk.
N. entered, and his chance visit solved my problem.
"Don't know what to do with yourself? Why, I have the very thing for you. Three friends of mine--Brown, Jones, and Robinson--are preparing for a tour in Albania. I saw Brown this morning, and he told me they wanted somebody else to join their party."
To cut the narrative short, I was introduced to Brown, Jones, and Robinson, as I shall call my travelling companions in this book; and it was not long before I decided to join them in a trip which promised to be a very amusing one. My friends were artists, and had chosen this almost unknown country for their summer tour, as being an unexplored mine for their pencils, both as regards magnificence of scenery and picturesqueness of costume. I myself knew nothing about Albania before starting, with the exception of what I had gleaned from "Childe Harold." The lines where the poet sings,