e lined them up for a picture, we demanded a front
place for the chained men, to their intense delight and the chagrin of
the others who cast envious glances at their more favoured brethren.
No doubt in that moment the unchained men wished they had gone just a
little further in their "quarrel."

After a pleasant half-hour with these quarrelsome gentlemen, we went
round to the ladies who occupy a wing of the prison, with all windows
and doors facing outwards on to the open ground. Again no fence or
wall marked a limit to their prison, and they walk in and out of their
cells at leisure. However, there is a boundary marked out by posts and
trees, beyond which they may not go. As we appeared they were sitting
about, singly and in groups, knitting peacefully in the warm sunshine.
We again inspected their quarters, and learnt that the odd score of
women represented the total crime of the land.

[Illustration: THE FEMALE PRISONERS]

A blushing and gratified array of staid matrons and coquettish girls
faced the camera, again only one young maiden of fifteen or sixteen
showing any sense of shame, and she fled into her cell, only to be
ruthlessly ordered out by a warder.

Soon afterwards we took our leave, and as we crossed the small
unenclosed square before the men's prison we found it crowded by the
late inmates of the courtyard, walking merrily up and down or chatting
with friends on the outskirts, over which neither party may step. Only
the dismal clanking of a chain here and there proclaimed to the casual
observer the fact that they were prisoners. Lithe, active, and
athletic men, none of whom fear death, and guarded by four warders in
the loosest possible fashion, yet they never attempt a dash for
freedom up the rocky slope which reaches down to their very promenade
ground. Flight would entail their escaping from their country
altogether, never to return, and that no Montenegrin has ever been
known to do. Even though they work for years in strange lands, they
invariably return to their rugged native mountains and end their days
in peace. And so they serve their time in patience, and go home at the
expiry of the sentence "without a stain on their character."

Many months afterwards we chanced to arrive in Cetinje on the occasion
of a great feast. A stranger happened to be with us, a German, and we
were showing him the sights. Naturally we also wended our way to the
prison, hoping to be able to give him the unique specta