191 33 In Mofitenegro 



Montenegro is a ragged plateau of limestone rock 

 ringed about by gray mountains and marked by 

 sinkholes wherever the roofs of old caves, the channels 

 of underground streams, have given way. These 

 depressions, by gradually tilling with wash from the 

 hills, hold most of the arable land of the western 

 section of the tiny kingdom; yet some of the sunken 

 gardens are little more than a rod across. The level 

 tract on which Cettinje, the capital city, lies is of Tiny 

 the same general nature, but covers a few square ^^""^^ 

 miles. The town consists of broad streets and scat- 

 tered plain brown homes, with a few official buildings 

 scarcely standing out above the general monotony. 

 Life here is very primitive, though not without a 

 certain austere nobility. 



The Montenegrins are a very poor, very independ- An inde- 

 ent people — the men tall, straight, taciturn and ^^" ^"' 

 proud; even those who live in stone huts of a single 

 room possess unquestioned dignity. All the men 

 carry knives and pistols in their belts. "You mustn't 

 mind that," said Anton Reinwein of Cettinje, whom 

 I had chosen as interpreter and guide; "it means no 

 more than carrying a cane with you!' These people 

 are descended from Serbs who refused to yield to the 

 Turks and so took refuge in their remote mountain 

 fastnesses. Up to the recent war they had never 

 been conquered, and only the unguarded northeastern 

 or Serbian side made possible the occupation of the 

 country by Austrian troops. 



In former times the mountaineers occasionally 

 sallied down to Lake Scutari to storm a castellated 

 Turkish fortress. One of these citadels, dismantled 

 but still picturesque, stands on the mainland to the 

 east of the village of Rjeka. Another, the scene of 



race 



