Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1922-07-28

an earlier day who stretched out the
lion of st. Marks from the Lido to the
Bosporus, lies Cattaro-which was
Italian in appearance, Austrian In al
legiance, but Serb in feeling, it's heart
ever in the Highlands. Beyond smiles
the Adriatic, and above tower the
gaunt gray rocks, against which the
road seems a veritable ladder laid
upon a wall.
A Wilderness of Rocks.
Threading at last a narrow defile,
whose walls are pierced with caves
where lurk the fables of the noun
taineers, and crossing a pass too often
swathed in clouds, one turns a corner
and comes face to face with the an
cient realm of the Vladikas.
The smile of the soft blue sea lies
behind, and before stretches a wild,
turbulent ocean of rock, rising and
sinking in angry gray waves f1ecked
with white, which seem to leap and
rage and battle together like a sea
dashed by a storm. Stones, rocks and
crags, nothing else; not tree, not a
blade of grass; scarcely even tuft of
brushwood to relieve the dreary scene
of desOlatiOn.
AT the creation, so runs the Monte
negrin legend, an angel was sent forth
to pick up the superfiuous stones on
the earth's surface. He placed them
in bag, which burst as he was flying
over CernagOra-and certainly the
landscape bears out the tale.
And yet the scene cannot be said to
lack charm-the charm of majesty al
ways to be found among the hills. And
while CernagOra at first sight-gaunt,
gray and drear, an arid wilderness of
bare rock-tells in one blow of the suf-
ferings of centuries, pity does not long
endure; it passes almost at once to
praise for people who have pre-
ferred liberty in this desolation to
slavery in fat lands
From the old Austrian border to
Cetfnje one encounters but one village,
Niegush, nesting in a little cleft in
the hills and claiming attention as the
cradle of the Petrovich dynasty, which
for more than two centuries ruled the
destinies of the land. Here was born
not only Danilo I, progenitor Of the
line, but most of his successors, includ-
ing the late king, whose tiny villa is
the show-place of the town.
From the pocket of Niegush, one be-
gins the ascent and an hours climbing
brings him to the top of the pass, in
sight of Cetinje. The distance as the
crow flies is short; but the winding
road multiplies the miles, and one has
ample opportunity to survey the tiny
former capital which boasts-albeit
somewhat inaccurately-that it's
streets alone of all the Balkan capt.
tails have never echoed to the tread of
a conquering Turkish host.
cetinje, the Capital.
Two broad, parallel streets, connect
ed by irregularly laid out cross streets,
comprise the town, which lies hemmed
in on every side by the stern hills. The
green fields, the elms, the buttercups
by the roadside, and the steep gables
of the houses, which often lie banked
to their caves with winters SHOWS, are
reminiscent of a White mountain viii
lage.
European dress has made slight in
roads in this part of the world Though
the army, thanks to Russian generos-
ity, wore khaki, the palace guard wore
Montenegrin garb to the end, and 1t
was the habitual dress of both king
and queen, the latter having pointedly
refused the suggestion of her daugh.
ters-ia-law that, together with the
royal title, she should take on modern
gowns
Montenegrins are nearly all giants
and they stride as though each wore
seven-league boots. Indeed, when q
Montenegrin wants to go anywhere in
a hurry he walks, not using the splen~
did roads with which his mountains
are threaded, but taking the old short
cuts among the hills.
These Montenegrins are a race of
warriors, and before the World war
sat about in the coffee houses bemoan-
ing their lot what life for man,
they said. Thirty years without a
war; nothing for a man to do" But
there was always plenty for the women
to do, and the women of Montenegro
so alert and graceful in their youth,
soon lose their good looks and become
bent and bowed and ugly.