Macedonia, a plea for the primitive

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MACEDONIA
packed to suffocation inside, with a crowd hanging
on to the platform and footboards like a bunch
of human grapes. We have had some experience
of the art of strap-hanging at home, but this
slender and somewhat precarious contact with the
back of the tram by the tip of the toe and two
fingers of the right hand, is an athletic accomplishment
which is not without some novelty and
considerable bodily risk. The tram gathers
speed (which is rather remarkable considering its
enormous human burden) apparently with the
foul design of shaking off some of the less secure
hangers-on. Indeed, we stand almost spellbound,
expecting to see the human limpets drop off one
by one, and only resume our walk when our
mixed feelings of disappointment and fear have
been completely allayed by the disappearance of
the tram from view.
Stumbling along over the uneven stones, partly
on the pavement with its numerous pitfalls,
partly on the road with its wave-like surface
the bad going confining one's gaze largely to
the ground—we venture now and then to raise our
eyes in order to observe and compare the various
uniforms of the Allied armies, worn by the passers-
by ;
admiring the virility and fine stature of the
Serb, the gay looks of the Frenchman, the heavy
stolidity of the Russian, and the smart debonnaire
bearing of the Italian.
And so we approach the White Tower—the
—