At Podgoritza we found Dr. Lilias Hamilton at supper with her staff.  She has had rather a hard time.  The hospital was intended for Ipek, but for some reason, although there were wounded in the town, the Montenegrins decided to move it to Podgoritza, where there were none.  After a difficult journey across the mountains they settled down, but could never get sufficient transport from the Government to bring their stores over, except in small quantities.  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.

Next morning no carriage came, so off to the Prefect.  He promised one “odmah,” which being translated is “at once,” but means really within “eight or nine hours.”  We waited.  Nine a.m. passed.  Ten a.m. went by.  A small boy sneaked up and tried to sell some contraband tobacco; but Jan had just bought “State.”  An angry Turkish gentleman came and said that his horses had been requisitioned to take us to Andrievitza, and that we weren’t going to get them till one o’clock, because he was using them.  We returned to the Prefect, not to complain—­oh no—­but to ask him to telegraph to Andrievitza that we were coming.  He was naturally surprised to see us again, and explanations followed.  A very humbled and much better tempered Turk came to the cafe to say that the horses would be with us “odmah.”

A drizzle had been falling all the morning; at last the carriage came.  Our driver was a wretched half-starved, high-cheeked Moslem in rags, whose trousers were only made draught proof by his sitting on the holes.  He tried to squeeze another passenger upon us; but we were wiser, and were just not able to understand what he was saying.  Our Turk’s method of driving was to tie the reins to the carriage rail, flourishing a whip and shouting with vigour; every ten minutes he glanced uneasily backwards to see that nothing had broken loose or come away.