told me that during the visit of the Governor-general and his wife to the prisons the other day the Countess asked to be shown some of the prisoners' soup. The warden brought some to her in a clean fresh plate, but she evidently thought that it had been especially prepared for the occasion. She therefore declined to taste it, and asked whether there had not been left in the bottom of the kettle some soup from the prisoners' dinner. Upon examination some soup was found there, and she desired that a spoonful of it be given to her. She tasted it, and then, handing back the spoon, remarked to the warden quietly, 'I 'm glad to see that you are washing out that kettle—it ought to have been washed long ago.' Now, you can't say," I concluded, "that such a lady as that does n't know something about your prisons, and that she is n't very observing."
"Observing—observing!" exclaimed Captain Makófski, "that may all be; she is a very kind-hearted and benevolent lady, but she is impractical. She thinks that a common criminal prison ought to be in as good condition all the time as a young ladies' institute—and you and I know that that is utterly impossible."
I said that I thought the Irkútsk prisons might be improved a good deal without bringing them up anywhere near the level of a young ladies' institute.
Our conversation was interrupted at this point by the entrance of callers, and Captain Makófski took his leave, evidently somewhat disturbed by the attitude that the new Governor-general had taken towards the prisons.
On Count Ignátief's first public reception day Mr. Frost and I called upon him, partly as a mark of respect and partly with the hope that he might be willing to talk about the exile system and the penal institutions of the city. We found him to be a large, somewhat corpulent man about forty-five years of age, with a massive, nearly bald head and a strong but heavy and almost lethargic face. He received us courteously but formally, and began to talk to
