160 IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 



strange. The Viennese gigerl eyes with interest 

 the shapeless Turkish females ; red-breeched 

 Bosnian troopers salute trim Hungarian jager 

 officers ; and thoroughly German Maclclien trip 

 along to school, escorted by baggy-trousered Serb 

 waiting- women. Officially we all speak German 

 in Mostar, but a babel of languages, of which 

 about the only one one does not hear is Turkish, 

 reaches the ear on every side. Every one of the 

 provinces of polyglot Austria is well represented 

 in this little town. 



Let us turn to the place itself. The situation 

 is picturesque, and would be more so but for 

 the barrenness of the hills which surround it- 

 The Narenta runs between and over black rocks, 

 and below the town the hills come so near to 

 the river as almost to form a gorge. Above this 

 the land to the north-west broadens out into a 

 smiling plain, covered with maize-fields and 

 vineyards, but also enclosed by bare hills. On 

 the left bank of the river lies the town, straggling 

 out from a cluster of buildings to terminate in a 

 permanent military camp at each end. The low, 

 stone-roofed Turkish houses and minarets contrast 

 oddly with the huge and hideous red-tiled build- 

 ings run up for residential and official purposes 

 since the Occupation. The suburbs on the other 

 bank are mostly native at present, and their 

 numerous gardens make them pleasant to the eye. 



