First of all a warder showed us the fetters—­heavy, cumbersome irons, which are riveted to one or both ankles, according to the sentence.  But it is only in exceptional cases of aggravated crime that this severer sentence is meted out to the offender.  Then we were conducted by the main and only entrance into the courtyard, two sides of which contain the cells of the prisoners.  These gentlemen rose with alacrity to their feet as we entered, evidently much pleased at the honour of our visit.  Only three men were chained, and of these one remained moodily seated, staring indifferently on the ground before him.  He formed such a contrast to his fellow-prisoners’ smiling faces that we observed him closer, noticing that his clothes were such as the officials and better class wear.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“A Government clerk convicted of embezzlement,” was the answer.  “Six weeks in chains is his sentence.”

“And what have the other criminals done?” was our next query.

“Oh, they have mostly quarrelled amongst themselves.  They are not criminals.  We have very few thieves and robbers in Montenegro.  This youth,” went on our informant, pointing to a young man with a pleasant face, and who grinned with joy as he noticed the attention with which we favoured him, “has a ten years’ sentence for quarrelling.”

“But quarrelling,” we repeated.  “Is it punishable to quarrel?”

“Yes, too many lives are lost,” was the laconic reply.

“Oh,” we exclaimed, a light breaking in upon us, “you mean murder!  They are all murderers?”

“We have no murderers,” came the indignant response.  “Our land is as safe from murder as any other in the world.  No one kills to rob or steal in Montenegro.  But we just quarrel amongst ourselves.  We are hot-blooded and shoot quickly, that is all.”

P. and I looked at each other, but neither of us felt inclined to venture any further remarks; so we examined a dark cell with interest, without furniture or light, and one of six used for the worst kind of offender, viz. the political.  They were all untenanted.  We had all crowded inside, our warders as well, and as we emerged again into the strong light, I noticed the gate wide open and no visible guard.

“You have left the gate open!” exclaimed P., as he saw it.

Our warders laughed.  Afterwards we understood.

Then we inspected a common cell, where about a dozen men sleep.  Each man brings his own bedding and nicknacks, with which he decorates the wall above his bed and makes the place as much like home as possible.  Loss of liberty is the only real punishment, and even that is not carried to an excess.  The Prince has said that the restraint that they suffer is enough, and thus the prisoners have comparatively free intercourse with the outside world, plenty to eat, and on festivals wine and even spirits and a dance with their friends outside.  This latter scene we witnessed some