Let the British public henceforth go to Sir Charles Eliot and not to this emotional lady for its picture of the unchanged Shqyptar. She reveals to us that more than one person in the Balkans said that her knowledge of those countries is enormous; she has knocked about the western Balkans and picked up a good deal of material, but her knowledge has its limitations: for example, she makes the old howler of ascribing Macedonian origin to Pašić, though his grandfather came not from Tetovo in Macedonia but from near Teteven in what is now Bulgaria. Miss Durham plumes herself for having sent back to Belgrade the Order of St. Sava, and seeing that it is bestowed for learning she did well. But even if her acquaintance with Balkan affairs were more adequate--her diagnosis of the Macedonian racial problem is extremely rough and ready--all the writings of Miss Durham are so warped with hatred for the Slav that they must be very carefully approached. Because she thinks it will incline her readers towards the Albanians she says[90] that they were early converts to Christianity. She omits to mention that the Moslem, on arriving in the Balkans, was able to spread his religion much more easily in Albania than anywhere else; and again, in the seventeenth century, when Constantinople offered many lucrative posts to the Moslem there occurred in Albania a great wave of apostasy. Miss Durham speaks with pride of the Albanians who during the Great War fought in the French, Italian and American ranks. Would it not be more straightforward if she added that large numbers were enrolled in the Austro-Hungarian army and _gendarmerie_? The special task of the latter was to dislodge from their mountain fastnesses those Montenegrins who continued to carry on a desperate guerilla warfare against the invader. To pretend that the Albanian has earned the freedom of his country by his glorious exploits in the War is an absurdity. He is a mediæval fellow, much more anxious to have a head to bash than to ascertain whom it belongs to. The Slavs have not always treated their raw neighbours with indulgence; in the Balkan War, when their army marched through Albania to the sea some very discreditable incidents occurred, whatever may have been the provocation they received from the sniping natives and however great be the excuse of their own state of nerves. Yet the first stone should be flung by that army of Western Europe which, in its passage through the territory of a treacherous and savage people, has done nothing which it would not willingly forget. And seriously to argue that the Slavs are of an almost undiluted blackness, while the Albanians are endearing creatures, is to take what anti-feminists would call a feminist view of history. Miss Durham tells us that some years ago she stood upon a height with an Albanian abbot and promised him that she would do all that lay in her power to bring a knowledge of Albania to the English. The worthy abbot