28 



The National Geographic Magazine 



in the Austrian provinces) ; he, too, was 

 going abroad to seek his fortune, where 

 seemed immaterial. "He feared he might 

 find many bad people after leaving Mon- 

 tenegro, as he had been told that there 

 were many wicked people in other lands 

 who would not give food and shelter to 

 wayfarers." He proudly refused money 

 and even cigarettes for his interpreting, 

 "but wistfully asked "were the Herrschaf- 

 ~ten going his way, for in that case they 

 -could help him in their country as he had 

 helped them in his." The diligence came 

 in and he waived us a sad farewell as he 

 -drove off. Poor boy ; we hoped the great 

 world would reward his brave trust. 



The mail came at last, so we reein- 

 harked to continue our trip. The lake 

 opened, the same stone hills continued 

 to enclose it, without a sign of habitation 

 the entire length of forty-odd miles. The 

 sun set, casting glorious flame-colored 

 lights on mountain and water ; the moon 

 rose, and we steamed past the Sultan's 

 one decrepit war ship flying the Crescent 

 of Islam and anchored off Scodra or 

 Scutari- Albanese, as it is called on our 

 maps, after a sixteen-hour trip. Great 

 canoes came out to the tug, our persons 

 and belongings were fought over, and, at 

 the risk of being dumped in the lake, we 

 were deposited on extremely topply 

 chairs and in the bottom of the canoe and 

 taken ashore. All was darkness, noise, 

 and confusion in the custom-house. We 

 smuggled the kodak and a couple of 

 books, and by giving a liberal backsheesh 

 got through at once and were conducted 

 by our friend the captain to the one inn 

 where it is possible to stay. 



THE ALBANIANS 



Scodra is situated at the end of the 

 lake, in the midst of a wide plain that late 

 in August was burned dust dry. The 

 town has a population of some 40,000 in- 

 habitants, and is considered by the Al- 

 banian the finest city in the world. It is 

 dirty, dingy, thoroughly Eastern, and 

 possesses a fascination all its own, for 

 here we are in a land and among a people 

 whose development was arrested in the 

 middle ages and who have not pro- 



gressed in ideas, customs, or morals from 

 that time. Here there is no trace of the 

 West or modern civilization such as one 

 comes upon in striking contrast to Old 

 World ways in the other Balkan states. 

 The houses are concealed behind 10-foot 

 walls, with overhanging eaves of brown 

 tiles and picturesque blue or green lat- 

 ticed windows ; few houses but have a 

 garden, the vines and trees peeping grace- 

 fully over the walls. A few mosques 

 and minarets appear in the distance. 



The Albanians are recognized to be 

 the descendants of the ancient inhabitants 

 of the Peninsula, who were here before 

 the Greeks or Romans, and are not allied 

 to the other Balkan peoples ; civilization 

 and empires have swept over them, and 

 they have gone on in their own savage way, 

 accepting a nominal ruler, but a nominal 

 only. They speak a language that is not 

 written. Their code of life and morals is 

 thoroughly medieval, and their proud 

 boast is that they have never betrayed a 

 friend or spared an enemy. Fighting is 

 the breath of their nostrils, and for this 

 reason they have been extremely useful 

 to the Sultan, and by fighting in his 

 armies have purchased immunity from 

 interference and taxation at home. If 

 you ask about the openly smuggled to- 

 bacco in Scodra Bazar you will be told, 

 "We Albanians do not chose to pay 

 taxes ; why should we ?" 



Not only a brave but an able man, the 

 Albanian is quick to learn when given the 

 opportunity, and is keen and successful 

 in business when able to escape the blight 

 of the Turk, which is keeping him an 

 untutored savage. 



The Bazar is the greatest attraction in 

 Scodra. It lies down by the river, a 

 labyrinth of narrow, ill-paved lanes with 

 gutters down the middle, where the pack 

 animals walk, the spaces between the tiny 

 booths being often not more than 6 feet 

 wide. Fascinating at all times, the scene 

 011 market davs is indescribable — a mass 

 of glaring barbaric color, the alleys 

 throbbing with a life that our ancestors, 

 too, must have known in the glittering, 

 squalid middle a<?es. 



Here the streets are each given over to 



