[Illustration: THROWING THE LASSO.]

                        _THE PAMPAS AND ANDES._

                                   A
                         THOUSAND MILES’ WALK
                                ACROSS
                            SOUTH AMERICA.

                                  BY
                         NATHANIEL H. BISHOP.

                         WITH AN INTRODUCTION
                                  BY
                       EDWARD A. SAMUELS, ESQ.,
          AUTHOR OF “ORNITHOLOGY AND OÖLOGY OF NEW ENGLAND,”
                              ETC., ETC.

                     _THIRD EDITION, ILLUSTRATED._

                                BOSTON:
                     LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
                               NEW YORK:
                     LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.

      Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
                           LEE AND SHEPARD,
          In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the
                      District of Massachusetts.

                          STEREOTYPED AT THE
                      BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
                          No. 19 Spring Lane.

                                  TO

                      PROFESSOR SPENCER F. BAIRD,

            ASSISTANT SEC’Y OF THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION,

                        This Work is Dedicated,

                     AS A TOKEN OF SINCERE REGARD,

                            BY HIS FRIEND,

                             _THE AUTHOR_.

                                PREFACE

                         TO THE SECOND EDITION

When, a few weeks since, I saw my little book of South American travels
issued from the press, I supposed that my connection with it had ended.
My publishers now ask for a preface to a second edition. I take this
occasion to express my thanks for the very kind manner in which my
boyish descriptions of a boy’s travels have been received by the public
and the press. I can only wish that my book had been more worthy of the
liberal patronage and the generous praise which have been bestowed upon
it.

If I had followed my own inclinations, I should have given my
narrative a thorough revision, and thus have corrected some of the
crudeness of my first literary effort. To this revision, however, my
publishers objected, on the ground that it would raise the suspicion
of genuineness as to these being the travelling observations of a lad
seventeen years of age, and impair also the freshness of the narrative.
My book has therefore been given to the public with but slight
alterations from the original draft.

I should have been glad to have made the story of my travels more
fruitful in scientific results. But I had no instruments for making
accurate observations, and had not the opportunity to preserve
and transport many objects of natural history for comparison and
verification. Such observations as I have made on topics relating to
natural history, during my wandering on the inhospitable Pampas of
South America, if they are superficial, I have sought to make them at
least truthful.

                                                   NATHANIEL H. BISHOP.

  OXYCOCCUS PLANTATION,
  MANNAHAWKIN, N. J.

                             INTRODUCTION.

In placing this little volume before the public, a few words, regarding
the manner in which the incidents and material composing it were
acquired, may be of interest to the reader.

The young gentleman who made the pedestrian trip, of which this forms
the narrative, was a native of Massachusetts. I had missed him from his
accustomed place for some time, but was ignorant of his contemplated
journey, or even that he had gone away, until my attention was
called to the following paragraph in the columns of the Boston Daily
Advertiser of January 12, 1856, from its Chilian correspondent:--

  “VALPARAISO, November 27, 1855.

 “There arrived here, a few days since, a young man belonging to
 Medford, Mass., who has walked across the Pampas and Cordilleras,
 more than a thousand miles, unable to speak the language, and with an
 astonishingly small amount of money.

 “So much for a Yankee.”

My friend was but seventeen years of age when he entered upon his
difficult undertaking; but by dint of perseverance, backed by an
enthusiastic love for nature, he accomplished a task that would have
seemed insurmountable to many older and more experienced than himself.
To use the language of Dr. Brewer, the able author of the Oölogy of
North America, he was “a young and enthusiastic naturalist, whose zeal
in the study of Natural History prompted him, alone, unaided, and at
the risk of his life, to explore the arid plains of South America,
while yet a mere lad in years and stature, though his observations
there exhibit the close and careful study of maturer years.”

The young traveller started on his journey of upwards of twelve
thousand miles, by sea and land, with a cash capital of forty-five
dollars, and returned home with fifty; thus proving to those who wish
to see the world that energy, industry, and economy are as potent to
assist them in their efforts as unlimited wealth.

On his return, I requested him to furnish me with an account of his
journey; this he has been unable to do, from press of business, until
recently, when he gave me a copy of his journal, which, in a slightly
revised form, is now published.

                                                     EDWARD A. SAMUELS.

                               CONTENTS.

  CHAPTER I.

  PASSAGE OF THE RIVER PLATA.

                                                                   Page

  The Bark M.--First Glimpses of Life in the Forecastle.--An old
  Salt, and forecastle Etiquette.--A self-constituted Guardian.--Another
  old Salt, and how he spliced the Main-brace.--Farewell to
  Boston.--The Passage.--The tropical Seas.--The Rocks of St.
  Paul’s, and their Natural History.--First Visit of the Pampero.--The
  “Doctor’s” poetical Effusions.                                      11

  CHAPTER II.

  IN THE RIVER PLATA.

  We enter the River Plata.--Land.--Montevideo.--Another
  Pampero.--Effects of the Hurricane.--Its Season.--We arrive at the
  outer Roads at Buenos Ayres.                                        30

  CHAPTER III.

  BUENOS AYRES--THE PROVINCE AND CITY.

  Letters from Home.--A Visit to the City.--Its Population.--Thistle
  Forests.--Agricultural Resources.--Public Edifices of Buenos
  Ayres.--Improvements.--Soil and Water.--Slavery and its History.--Don
  D. F. Sarmiento.--Paper Currency.--General Rosas
  and his cruel Tyranny.                                              35

  CHAPTER IV.

  VISIT TO THE TIGRE AND BANDA ORIENTAL.

  A new Acquaintance.--Preparations for a Journey.--The Departure.--The
  Cochero and his Vehicle.--Residence of the late
  President.--Agriculture.--Fuel.--San Fernando.--Mr. Hopkins and United
  States and Paraguay Navigation Company.--Yerba.--We leave the
  Tigre.--Arrival at the Banda Oriental.--Wild
  Dogs.--Estancia.--Departure for the Las Vacas River.--A
  Revelation.--An Ignis Fatuus.--Estancia House, and Cattle Farm.--The
  Proprietor at Home.--Inhospitable Reception.--The Peons.--Insulting
  Treatment.--An Irishman and his Opinions.--We reach the River.--Gold
  Prospects.--We return to the Tigre.--My Companion’s Fate.           49

  CHAPTER V.

  ASCENDING THE PLATA AND PARANÁ.

  Rosario.--Departure from the Tigre.--A Dialogue.--I visit the M.--The
  Irish Barrister’s Son.--I return to the City.--Leave Buenos
  Ayres.--Banks of the River.--El Rosario.--Schools, &c.--Enterprise
  of the People.--Diligences.--The Press.--Vigilantes.--Paraná.--Its
  Position.--Bank.--Railroad and its Prospects.                       68

  CHAPTER VI.

  A VISIT TO THE PAMPA COUNTRY.

  A new Acquaintance.--An Invitation.--We set out upon the
  Plains.--Incidents of the Journey.--A Pampa Lord.--We visit his
  Mansion.--The House and its Inmates.--Cattle.--Niata
  Breed.--Ostriches. Riding a wild Colt.--Trial of Horses.--The
  Boliadores.--Estancia Life.--The Gauchos.--Duties on the Cattle
  Farm.--Feast Days and Aguardiente.--Customs of the Gauchos.--Training
  Colts.--The Herdsman’s Dress.                                       76

  CHAPTER VII.

  LIFE ON THE PAMPAS.

  Don José and my new Guardian.--Preparations for Departure.--Pampa
  Carts.--Method of driving Oxen.--Fresh Meat.--A Santa.--Farewell
  to Rosario.--The Caravan.--A Halt.--Novel Mode of
  Cooking.--First Lesson in Gaucho Etiquette.--A Name.--Habits
  of the Bizcacha.--Burrowing Owls.--First Night in the Pampas.      101

  CHAPTER VIII.

  LIFE ON THE PAMPAS--CONTINUED.

  A new Dress.--Riding a Ram.--Deer.--Parrots.--Mirages.--A
  Troop of Carts.--A Pantana.--Grass on fire.--Another
  Caravan.--Armadillos.--Guardia de la Esquina.--A sad
  Story.--Irreverence of the Peons.--Cabeza del Tigre.--Indian
  Attack.--Saladillo.--I visit a Rancho.--Punta del Sauce.--Its
  Inhabitants.--A geographical Dispute.--La Reduccion.--Paso
  Durazno.--Cerro Moro in the distance.--Indian female Spies.        117

  CHAPTER IX.

  FROM RIO QUARTO TO CERRO MORO.

  Rio Quarto.--Indian Incursions.--A novel Method of charging a
  Cannon.--Scarcity of Bread.--A Bath.--The Peons’ Objection to
  Bathing.--Ox brain Soup.--A mule Troop.--The
  Madrina.--Armadillos.--Their Habits.--A Caravan from
  Mendoza.--Bread and Ovens.--Preparations for a hungry
  Time.--A Prostration.                                              136

  CHAPTER X.

  FROM RIO QUARTO TO CERRO MORO--CONTINUED.

  Prospects and Experiences.--The Peons’ dislike for the “Gringo.”--Fear
  of Dr. Carmel.--Little Juan.--Suspicious Movements.--Sympathy
  of the China Women.--Intrigue.--The Breakfast.--Don
  Manuel lacks Etiquette.--Sickness.--A Dream.                       152

  CHAPTER XI.

  SAN LUIS AND THE SALINE DESERT.

  Don Manuel the Capataz.--His Services as Baqueano.--A Mendoza
  Troop of Carts.--Approach to the “Interior Town.”--Appearance
  of San Luis de la Punta.--The Governor.--Indian Troubles.--A
  Captive.--Indian Attack.--Treatment of Foreigners.--On the
  Travesia.--Watering Places.--Cacti.--Cochineal.--Condiments.--Saline
  Mineral.--Its Properties and Analysis by Dr. A. A.
  Hayes.--Conjectures as to its Origin.                              165

  CHAPTER XII.

  ON THE TRAVESIA.

  We cross the Desaguadero.--Artificial Canals.--La Paz.--Results of
  Irrigation.--View of the Andes.--An Invitation to
  Dinner.--Gormandizing of the Peons.--Santa Rosa.--Goats.--Alto
  Verde.--Camp on the Road.--A Bath.--Goitre.--Preparations for entering
  Mendoza.--The little China.--Arrogance of the Santiagueños.--Plants
  of the Travesia.--Dwellings.--A Dialogue.--We enter the
  Town.--An English Doctor.--Cool Treatment.--Circo Olympico.--A
  Visit to Plaza Nueva.                                              182

  CHAPTER XIII.

  MENDOZA.

  A Disappointment.--Mendoza.--The Alameda.--The Governor.--Houses,
  Churches, &c.--Doings of the Priests.--The Confessionals.--Padre
  A.--Madcap young Ladies.--Musical Bells.--Theatre.--Inhabitants.--The
  Goitre.--San Vicente.--School Library.--Newspaper and Press of
  Vansice.--Celebration of the 25th of May.--Soldiers.--Circus
  Performers.--Arrival of Indians from the South.--Veracity of the
  Cacique.--The Correo and his Men.--Casuchas.--Snow Travel.--A new
  Character Introduced.--Destruction of the City.--Departure for San
  Juan.--The consuming Lake.--Fishes.--Arrival at San Juan.          195

  CHAPTER XIV.

  A WINTER IN SAN JUAN.

  At San Juan.--Wet and dry Winters.--Don Guillermo Buenaparte.--Visit
  to Causete.--I become a Miller.--Natural History.--The
  Mill.--New Characters.--The Scenery.--A curious Lot.--Inhabitants
  of San Juan.--The Town.--Trade and Productions.--Agricultural
  Tools.--Irrigation.--Don José the Penitent.                        216

  CHAPTER XV.

  A WINTER IN SAN JUAN--CONTINUED.

  A Mine.--A new Acquaintance.--An Account of the Prowess of a
  Diablo.--His Dress.--Horse’s Trappings.--The Rastreador.--His
  Skill.--A Translation from Sarmiento.                              229

  CHAPTER XVI.

  VIENTE DE ZONDA.

  Regarding the Zonda Wind.--Miers’s Opinion.--Courses of the
  Zondas.--A Wind of long Duration.--South Wind.--Speculations
  upon the Starting-point of the Zondas.                             239

  CHAPTER XVII.

  ADVENTURES OF DON GUILLERMO BUENAPARTE.

  Don Guillermo relates his Adventures.--Leaves New Bedford.--Deserts
  his Ship for another.--Rock of Dunda.--Terrapin Island.--Sufferings
  and Escape from the Place.--Marquesas Islands.--Leaves the
  Vessel.--Life among the Cannibals.--Cruel Fate of his
  Companions.--Settles down to Marquesan Life.--A Ship.--Escape of Don
  Guillermo.--Other Adventures.--Leaves Chili.--Additional Remarks.  245

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  CROSSING THE ANDES.

  Preparations for leaving San Juan.--I leave the Mill.--The Post
  House--The Minister and his friendly Offer.--The Flecha.--El
  Durazno.--The Hut and its Occupants.--The Binchuca.--A bloodless
  Battle.--El Sequion.--Chinas.--A Troop of Mules, and a
  Night with the Capataz.--Up the Valley.--A Hut and a pretty
  Señorita.--An elevated Plain.--Camp.--Sunrise in the Andes.--The
  Road to Uspallata.--Don Fernando.--An Invitation.--Farewell
  to Uspallata.--Indian Structures.--A sad Tale.--Cueste
  de la Catedral.--La Punta de las Vacas.                            277

  CHAPTER XIX.

  CROSSING THE ANDES--CONTINUED.

  Descent of the Andes.--Baqueano Mule.--Waiting for the Snow to
  crust over.--Strange Scenery.--Below the Snow.--Another Snow-Hut.--A
  Drift.--Travellers from Chili.--Preparations for ascending the
  Cordillera.--Remedy for the Puna.--A hard Road.--On the Cumbre.    296

  CHAPTER XX.

  FROM THE ANDES TO THE PACIFIC.

  Passage down the Valley.--Eyes of Water.--The Chilians and their
  Characteristics.--San Rosa.--A Chilian Welcome.--A Feast.--The
  River Aconcagua.--Quillota.--At Valparaiso.--Departure for Home.   305

                        A THOUSAND MILES’ WALK.

                              CHAPTER I.

                      PASSAGE TO THE RIVER PLATA.

One cold November morning, in compliance with previous orders, I
reported myself ready for duty at the shipping office of Messrs. S. and
K., Commercial Street, Boston, and having received, as is customary,
one month’s wages in advance, proceeded with my baggage to Battery
Wharf, at the foot of which lay the bark M., destined to be my future
home for many weeks. As but one of the crew had already gone on board,
I had ample leisure for examining the vessel, on board of which I was
to receive my first lessons in practical seamanship, and to endure
privations hitherto happily unknown to me. The M. was not prepossessing
in appearance, and I confess that her model did not give a favorable
idea of her sailing qualities: vessels, like horses, have peculiar
external points by which their virtues may be judged, and their speed
determined. As I gazed upon her long, straight sides, square bows, and
box-like hull, it seemed to me that her builders must have mistaken
her ends; for, _certes_, had her spars been reversed, she would have
made better progress by sailing stern foremost. Some knowing ones,
who have since examined this specimen of marine architecture of twenty
years ago, have sustained my suspicion that the M. belonged to that
enduring fleet of cruisers, now scattered over the great deep, which
were originally built in the State of Maine, of which report is made
that “these vessels are built by the _mile_, and sawed off according to
the length ordered by the buyer.”

The mate, who was occupied in receiving live stock,--i. e., two young
pigs,--ordered me to stow my things “for’ard;” an order somewhat
difficult to comply with, as the forecastle was well filled with
firewood, ropes, blocks, swabs, and the various other articles used on
shipboard.

I crawled down the dark passage, and was feeling about to discover
the dimensions of a sailor’s home, doubting, meanwhile, whether, in
reality, this narrow hole could be the abode intended for human beings,
when suddenly a gruff voice called down to me, “Come, youngster, bear a
hand! Make yourself lively! We must clean out this shop before the crew
come down; stir yourself, and pass me up the pieces.” Obeying these
peremptory commands, I applied myself to work, and in an hour’s time
my companion declared the place “ship-shape, and fit for sailors.” I
would remark, _en passant_, that this declaration was made in the face
of the fact that mould and dust covered the timbers and boards, and
cockroaches filled the many crevices. “But,” said my companion, with a
philosophical air, “if the place were carpeted, and lighted with a fine
lamp, the fellows would be the more dissatisfied; the better treated
they are, the worse they growl.” At the time I inwardly dissented from
the truth of this remark; but subsequent experiences taught me the old
salt was right.

As I had been of service in removing all the lumber, I thought to repay
myself by securing a good bunk, and therefore chose an upper one. After
I had given it a thorough cleaning, and had carefully stowed away my
mattress and blanket, one of the new crew entered the forecastle, and,
on noticing my labors, at once removed my bed, and placed his own in
its place, remarking, at the same time, that it was a highly impolite
and lubberly action for an understrapper to “bunk down where he didn’t
belong; upper bunks were _men’s_ bunks; lower ones, boys’.” Although
I pleaded ignorance of the etiquette of the forecastle, and selected
another resting place, my shipmate continued his lecture on the rules
of the sea, and hinted at the future “rope’s-endings from the little
man aft,” as he called the mate, in store for me.

During his harangue two or three of my old schoolfellows came aboard,
and, on visiting my quarters, remarked upon the poor accommodations and
filthiness to which I was to be doomed; upon which remark the old tar
broke out with, “And so this is a young gentleman going to sea for the
first time? O, ho! All right. I’ll be his guardian, and keep an eye on
him when he’s aloft, and, to start fair, if my opinion was asked, I’d
say we’d better go up the wharf, and splice the matter over a social
glass.” At this hint, so delicately conveyed, we gave the fellow a sum
sufficient to allay his thirst, had it been never so great, and he
at once took leave of us, only to return, however, in a few minutes,
declaring that he had lost every cent, at the same time reiterating his
offer to become my friend for a consideration.

The noise of the tow-boat now called us on deck, where we found
a perfect Babel of confusion, caused by the throng of porters,
boarding-house runners, idlers, and sailors’ friends, who were giving
and receiving advice in quantities to last until the vessel returned
to her port. About this time I was touched on the shoulder by a
rough-looking personage in a sailor’s dress, who took me aside, and
inquired if I really intended going to sea. “Because,” said he, “if
you are, let me give you a bit of advice. I’m an old _shell_, and can
steer my trick as well as the next one; and as we’re to be shipmates,
and you’re young, all you’ve got to do is to stick close to me, and
I’ll larn yer all the moves.” After showing so kind an interest in my
affairs, he hinted, like the other man, that there was “still time
enough to step up to the house, and splice the main brace.” As I was
ignorant of this point in seamanship, I handed him some money, that
he might perform it alone, when he disappeared. I saw nothing more of
him for the next half hour; and it was only when the vessel was about
moving off that he staggered over the rail, to all appearances well
braced; and as he expressed a desire to handle all on board, from the
“old man” (the captain) “in the cabin to the doctor” (cook) “in the
galley,” I concluded that his splicing had received especial attention,
and that his strands would not unravel for several hours to come.

These scenes on board of the M., while getting under way, were
comparatively tame to others that I have since witnessed on other
vessels. I have known men to be carried on board ship by boarding-house
keepers, who had enticed them into their dens of infamy, and who had
drugged them so powerfully that they did not recover their senses until
the vessel had left the port. In this manner, fathers of families,
mechanics, tradesmen, and other persons wholly unfitted for a sea
life have been carried off, unknown by their friends. When full
consciousness returned to the unhappy victims, they sought the officers
for an explanation, when I have seen them so beaten and kicked, that
in apprehension for their lives, they bowed in submission to a tyranny
worse than that of slavery itself.

After lying for more than twenty-four hours, wind-bound, in the outer
harbor, all hands were called before daylight, and though the mercury
stood but a few degrees above the freezing point, the decks were washed
down; after which operation the anchor was weighed, and we set sail
out upon the bosom of the broad Atlantic. When we were fairly under
way, we were set to work stowing away chains and ropes, securing the
water casks upon deck, lashing the anchors upon the rail; then a short
breathing spell was allowed us. While looking to windward, an old
sailor, with whom I had commenced a friendship, which I was determined
to strengthen, said, “Here, boy: do you see that land, there? It is the
last you will see until we drop anchor in the River Plata.” I gazed
long upon it. It was Cape Cod. Its white sand-hills looked cold and
drear as the sea beat against their bases, some of which were smooth
and sloping, others steep and gullied by the rains. An hour after this
the breeze freshened, the light sails were taken in, and the topsails
double-reefed; and as the sea ran higher, and our little vessel grew
proportionally uneasy, I began to experience the uncomfortable nausea
and dizziness of seasickness, which, added to the repulsive smell and
closeness of the forecastle, completely overcame my fortitude, when
retiring to my bunk I tried to make myself comfortable.

About five o’clock in the afternoon all hands were mustered upon the
quarter-deck, and the watches chosen. To my satisfaction I was selected
by the mate, and had the further gratification of finding that old
Manuel, my friend, had also been chosen for our watch--a result which
evidently delighted him as much as myself. Ours was the larboard watch,
and remained upon deck, while the captain’s, or starboard watch, went
below. The duties of sea life had now fairly commenced.

The two hours that followed, from six to eight, were passed in a
pleasant conversation with the old Frenchman, Manuel. He informed me
that he had his eye on the moves of the crew, and he concluded that
there was but one sailor on board: it was left to my sagacity to infer
that he meant himself.

Two of the crew, who had shipped as ordinary seamen, were ignorant
of the duties for which they had contracted, and each man in the
forecastle had shipped as an American-born citizen, with protection
papers received from the Custom House, which legally asserted him
as such. These papers they had obtained from their boarding-house
masters, who had purchased them at twenty-five cents each, and had
retailed them to their foreign customers at seventy-five cents apiece.
Of this _American_ crew, two were Germans, or Dutchmen (an appellation
given by sailors to all persons from the north of Europe), one of
unknown parentage, who could only speak a few words of English, two
Irishmen, one Englishman, another who swore point blank to being a
native-born citizen of the States, an old mariner from Bordeaux, and
myself. The law that makes it the duty of a captain to take with his
crew a certain proportion of native-born Americans, had surely not
been complied with here. To one of our crew I cannot do otherwise than
devote a few lines.

The “doctor,” or cook, had already introduced himself, and informed us
in a short and patriotic speech, delivered at the galley door, that
he would confess that his father was a distinguished Irish barrister,
and that he himself possessed no little share of notoriety in the old
country. He had once been taken by a celebrated duchess, as she rode
past in her carriage, for a son of the Marquis of B. His amusing vanity
drew many expressions of contempt from the tars, who pronounced him to
be “an idle Irish thief,” which only served to make him wax more warm
in his assumptions of gentility. He was interrupted in the midst of a
high-flown harangue by the loud squealing of the pigs, which squealing
reminded him that his duties must not be neglected for the purpose of
edifying a crowd of ignorant tars.

Our watch lasted until eight bells, when I went below, but had very
little appetite for supper--a meal consisting of salt beef, biscuits,
and a fluid which the cook called tea, although, on trial, I was sadly
puzzled to know how it could merit such an appellation.

Of the three weeks which followed this first experience of nautical
life and its miseries, I can say but little, as I labored during this
period under the exhausting effects of seasickness, which reduced
me to such a degree of weakness that I once fainted on the flying
jib-boom, from which position of peril I was rescued and brought in by
my friend Manuel. But this distressing malady wore away, and at last
became altogether a memory of the past. Despite hard fare and labor,
I not only recovered my lost flesh, but grew rugged and hearty, and,
moreover, became tolerably familiar with the duties of a life at sea.

I have alluded to our cook, and to his ineffable conceit, mock
sentimentality, and Hibernian fertility of invention.

It was his opinion that the “low-lived fellows” on board ought to
feel highly honored by the presence in their midst of at least one
gentleman--a title which he continually arrogated to himself. I
am sorry to say, that as a cook he was not “a success.” He cared
very little about the quality of the food he served to us; and its
preparation was usually a subordinate consideration, with him, to
the indulgence of his master passion,--the perusal of highly-colored
novels,--to which he devoted every possible moment.

In the hope of improving my wretched diet, I applied myself to the
study of this man’s character, and, having soon discovered his
assailable point, supplied him with some works of fiction more
entrancing than any he had hitherto possessed. I bought them just
before our leaving home, thinking that perhaps some such an opportunity
might offer for making a friendship with some of my messmates. His
delight at receiving them was extreme; and I received in exchange
for my favors many a dish that added a zest to my food, which it had
hitherto altogether lacked.

Whenever I wished to be entertained with some marvellous account of
“life in the highest circles of Great Britain,” I had only to request
from the sympathetic cook a passage or two from his eventful life. It
was his constant lament that he had never kept a dialogue (diary) of
his travels, which, according to his account, must have surpassed those
of most mortals in adventure and interesting incidents.

Of our crew, his countryman, the “boy Jim,” was his favorite. This
Jim was the red-shirted sailor who had promised to instruct me in all
the “moves” of an experienced salt, before we had left the wharf at
Boston. A very few days of our voyage, however, served to prove, that
he not only had no claim to the title of “old salt,” but also that he
had never learned to “steer a trick at the wheel.” The first order that
he received from one of the mates was, “Boy Jim, lay aloft there, and
slush down the foretop-gallant and royal masts!” Seizing a tar bucket,
and pointing aloft, he exclaimed, “Shure, sir, and which of them sticks
is it that ye mane?” thus laying bare his ignorance of all nautical
matters, and bringing on himself the ridicule of the whole ship’s crew.

As with head winds we slowly drew near the variables, or horse
latitudes, rainy weather, accompanied by squalls of wind, commenced,
and for twenty-one days and nights we were wet to the skin: clothes,
bedding, all were saturated from the effects of a leaky deck; and
it was a common occurrence to find, on awakening from slumber, a
respectable stream of water descending into the close and crowded
forecastle. When on deck our oil clothes did not protect us, for from
our having worked in them constantly, the oil coating had worn off:
so, at the end of a watch, we wrung out our under garments, and turned
into our narrow bunks, where we quickly fell asleep, and forgot our
miseries and troubles, until we were aroused to them by the gruff voice
of some sailor of the other watch, shouting down the companion-way,
“Ay--you--Lar-bowlines--ahoy--there; eight--bells! Lay up here,
bullies, and get your duff.” Or, perhaps, “Do those fellows down there
ever intend to relieve the watch!” exclaimed in no pleasant tones by
the captain of the other watch.

The rainy season was succeeded by as delightful weather as we could
have desired. A fair wind sprang up a few days before crossing the
line, and with straining canvas we sped on towards Buenos Ayres. The
days passed pleasantly, and our duties became light and agreeable.
Enjoyable as were these tranquil days, the nights were still lovelier
in those latitudes. The moon seemed to shine with an unwontedly pure
and spiritual light, and with a brightness known only to the clear
atmosphere of the tropics.

As we glided along, night after night, under a firmament studded with
countless lights, and over a broad expanse ruffled with short, dark
waves curling crisply into foam, I could hardly conceive a scene of
more quiet beauty. Standing upon the forecastle deck, a glorious vision
frequently met our gaze: a phosphorescent light gleamed beneath the
bows, and streamed along the sides and in the vessel’s wake, looking
like a train of liquid gems to the imaginative observer. If we looked
aloft to the white canvas of our wide-spread sails, we seemed borne
along by some gigantic bird, of which the sails were the powerful
wings, to the distant horizon, in which were the Southern Cross and
other larger constellations, burning, like beacon lamps, leading us on
to our destined port.

During these days and nights our attention was not unfrequently
attracted to the dwellers in the deep, which were constantly sporting
around us. Schools of black-fish and porpoises continually crossed our
track; and large numbers of flying-fish often shot across our bows,
sometimes leaving at our mercy a few stragglers upon the decks.

Upon such nights as I have described, when acting as lookout by the
windlass bits, old Manuel frequently came to my side, and conversed
upon the various topics connected with his past life, which had been an
eventful one. He was born in Bordeaux. His mother died when he was an
infant, leaving him to the care of his father, who owned and commanded
a small vessel engaged in the coasting trade.

While very young, Manuel preferred playing about the streets of his
native city, and hiding, with other boys, among the vines which covered
his father’s dwelling, to following any plan of education proposed by
his father. Under the direction of an uncle, however, he attended
school when nine years old, and learned to read and write during the
two succeeding years. So rapid was his progress, that the uncle, who
was wealthy, offered to defray his expenses if he would fit himself
for the university; but Manuel preferred following the fortunes of
his father for a season, and accordingly sailed with him along the
coasts of France and Spain. But the voyage was not destined to be a
pleasant one. The boy was continually offending his father, who was a
cold and unlovable man; and one afternoon, while performing certain
antics upon the main-topsail-yard-arm, the old gentleman called him
down, and rewarded his exertions with a lusty application of the end
of the main sheet, which rope’s-ending was not to Manuel’s taste.
He availed himself of the first opportunity, deserted the vessel,
and joined a fine ship sailing to Havana. Before reaching Cuba he
had become acquainted with the ropes, and not wishing to return to
his parent until time had soothed his outraged feelings, he left the
ship, and became a destitute wanderer in a foreign land. He was at
that time twelve years of age. Being led into bad company, he joined
a slaver, bound for the west coast of Africa. The _galota_ in which
he sailed reached the Rio Congo, and received on board nine hundred
negroes, nearly all of whom were landed safely in Cuba. His wages, as
boy, amounted to fifty dollars per month; but, though engaged in so
profitable an undertaking, his sense of right caused him to leave his
unprincipled associates, and to seek employment elsewhere. Since that
time he had served beneath the flag of nearly every maritime nation,
and had also fought in the China wars. For thirteen years he had
sailed from Boston and New York, choosing the American republic as his
adopted country, for which he was willing, as he declared, to shed his
best blood, should necessity require.

While conversing with Manuel, one morning before sunrise, I was
surprised by his suddenly jumping to his feet and scanning the horizon.
At length he exclaimed, “There is a sight you may never see again. I
have crossed the line many times in this longitude, but never beheld
that before to-day!” At this moment the mate, who had been keeping
a long lookout, disappeared below, returning in a moment with the
captain. Looking in the direction pointed out by the old sailor, I
discerned far away to the south-south-east, broken water; and, as the
daylight advanced, we were soon able to distinguish two detached and
rugged rocks, rising out of the sea, together with many smaller peaks
rising out of the water around them. One of these bore a striking
resemblance to a sugar-loaf. This group was the St. Paul’s Rocks. When
first seen they appeared dark and drear; but, as our vessel approached
them, we discovered that the excrements of myriads of sea-fowl,
with which they were covered, had made them of a glistening white,
presenting a strange appearance, not wholly devoid of the picturesque.
Here, at no less a distance than five hundred and forty miles from the
continent of South America, these peaks, the summits of mountains whose
bases are planted in unfathomed depths, arise.

The rocks lie in longitude twenty-nine degrees fifteen minutes west,
and are only fifty-eight miles north of the equator. The highest
peak rises but fifty feet above the sea, and is not more than three
quarters of a mile in circumference.

These isolated rocks have been visited by a few persons only. Darwin,
the naturalist, made a thorough investigation into their natural
history. Among birds, the booby gannet and noddy tern were found;
both species being very tame, depositing their eggs and rearing their
young in great numbers. Darwin, in his account of the tenants of
these rocky islets, observes, “It was amusing to watch how quickly a
large and active crab (_Grapsus_), which inhabits the crevices of the
rocks, stole the fish from the side of the nest, as soon as we had
disturbed the parent birds. Sir W. Symonds, one of the few persons who
have landed here, informs me that he saw these crabs dragging even
the young birds out of the nests, and devouring them. Not a single
plant, nor even lichen, grows on this islet; yet it is inhabited by
several insects and spiders. The following list completes, I believe,
the terrestrial fauna: A fly (_Olfersia_), living on the booby, and a
tick, which must have come here as a parasite on the birds; a small
brown moth, belonging to a genus that feeds on feathers; a beetle
(_Quedius_), and a wood-louse from beneath the dung; and, lastly,
numerous spiders, which, I suppose, prey on these small attendants and
scavengers of the water-fowl.”

I afterwards met, among the many roving characters with whom the
traveller becomes acquainted, a person, who, in his younger days, had
been engaged not only in privateering, but also in the lucrative,
though inhuman, slave traffic. He knew of many instances when slavers
and freebooters had been obliged to visit St. Paul’s from necessity,
not only for the purpose of securing the rain-water that is caught in
the cavities and depressions in the rock, but also to procure a supply
of the fish which play about the islets in large schools, or, more
properly, perhaps, shoals, or schules.

Although our vessel was built before the age of clippers, and
consequently made slow progress through the water, St. Paul’s was far
astern by ten o’clock. A fresh breeze sprang up, and, as it continued
fair, we were wafted along smoothly day after day towards our destined
port.

At length the sudden changes of the atmosphere, and careful
consultations of the officers, and admonitions “to keep a bright
lookout ahead,” warned the forecastle hands that we were nearing the
Rio Plata, the great _River of Silver_, whose broad mouth we were soon
to enter, there to gaze upon the shores of another continent.

The nights seemed cooler, and the beautiful appearance of the heavens,
as the sun, with a broader disk, sank beneath the western horizon,
particularly attracted our attention. As it slowly disappeared, clouds
of many varied hues gathered above it like heavy drapery, as if to
conceal its flight; while others, taking the form of long ranges of
mountains, with here and there a tall peak towering up into the clearer
firmament, presented a panorama of exquisite beauty and grandeur.
But all evenings were not of this description. Sometimes the heavens
darkened, and for two or three hours not a breath of air moved the
murky atmosphere. Long, dark swells came rolling towards us from the
south-east, sure indicators of the distant _pampero_, the hurricane
of La Plata. When these swells were visible, the crew at once became
active: every light sail was snugly furled, and the topsails double
reefed, for our captain was a prudent man, who had sailed long enough
in these latitudes to know the fearful devastation that is often
occasioned by the _pampero_. Before our voyage terminated we had an
opportunity to appreciate this trait in his seamanship.

One afternoon, when within four or five days’ sail of the mouth of the
Plata, the sky became overcast with murky clouds, while the distant
thunder and lightning in the south-west warned us of the proximity of
the hurricane. “All hands” were called and we hurried to our stations;
but before everything could be made snug aloft, a fierce shower of
hail descended, pelting us mercilessly; and glad enough we were to get
below, at four bells, to supper. The wind increased, and blew very hard
for an hour or more, when it became calmer; but still the heavy sea
came rolling towards us, making our stout bark toss and pitch about as
if old Neptune were irritated at her sluggish ways. We congratulated
ourselves at our easy escape from the _pampero_, but we should have
remembered the old saying, “Never shout until you are out of the wood.”

As we were below, discussing various subjects, we were joined by
the cook, who descended the ladder, requesting the loan of a novel,
declaring that he was dying by inches of the “onwy.” “Get out of
this, you and your trash!” shouted an old tar: “this is no place for
distinguished characters.”

But the “doctor” did not appear to be disconcerted in the least at
this rude salutation and reference to his pretensions.

“Ah, boys!” he exclaimed, with a touch of sentimentality, “how can ye
be so boistherous? Here we are, every hour dhrawing nearer and nearer
to that mighty river which runs past Buenos Ayres; and does not the
thought of it inspire ye with romantic feelings? As for meeself, I can
scarce slape at night for the ecstatic thoughts that crowd me brain.
Ye may all laugh,” he continued, as some of the sailors interrupted
him with a boisterous laugh, “but it does not alter the case in the
laste, for it is thrue. To-night, when I was standing in the galley,
the thought came to me, that perhaps the boy here,” pointing to myself,
“would like a few stanzas of poetry for his dialogue (diary), which he
is keeping; so I, in my mind, composed a few lines, which, if he wants,
I will recite to him.”

At this, some of the sailors exclaimed, “Get out of this, for a dirty
sea-cook as you are, and don’t attempt to spoil sensible people.”

I, however, said that I would be pleased to receive his stanzas, and,
preparing my pencil and paper, wrote down the following lines as he
recited them, together with the interpolations and remarks of the
sailors. Striking a beatific attitude, the poet began:--

  “I saw her; yes, I saw her.”

_Old Salt_ (gruffly). “What if you did? If she saw you, she sickened, I
dare swear!”

_The Doctor_ (continuing).

  “Tripping along so gayly,
  With mantilla fluttering in the wind.”

_Old Salt 2d._ “Shaking in the wind’s eye, in a squall.”

_The Doctor._

  “Eyes like a dove’s in mildness,
  Or an eagle’s in its wildness.”

_Old Salt 1st._ “More like a hen’s with one chicken.”

_Old Salt 3d._ “Or a sick rooster with one tail-feather.”

_The Doctor._

  “Smiles they were sweet,
  Lips together did meet.”

_Old Salt 1st_ (dubiously). “Lips together did meet? I wonder, mateys,
if she wasn’t smacking them after a glass of grog?”

_The Doctor._

  “Clamors of war and terrible drums,
  Noise of trumpets and the hum of tongues,
  Can frighten the timid, but not her;
  For brave as a lion, dauntless as fire,
  She’s ruled by love, and not by ire.”

Here some of the sailors pretended to faint; others reeled off to their
bunks, saying that the doctor’s poetry was “worse than his duff, and
that wasn’t fit to give a measly hog;” while one old follow ascended to
the deck, declaring that he “couldn’t sleep after hearing such blasted
nonsense, until he had taken a salt junk emetic.”

The doctor would have continued his poetry, notwithstanding the
ridicule of the “low, ignorant fellows,” as he called them; but he was
interrupted by the voice of the mate, calling down to the cook to
“doctor the binnacle lamp,” when the poet hurried up the companion-way,
leaving me to turn in, and dream of

  “Lips that together did meet,
  Clamors of wars, and terrible drums,”

until the man at the wheel struck eight bells.

                              CHAPTER II.

                          IN THE RIVER PLATA.

At length the day for making preparations for nearing land arrived.
One fine afternoon the order was given to have everything ready
for entering the river. All hands were kept on deck, and every one
manifested an unusual readiness to work. The lashings were cut adrift
from the anchors; the chain drawn out of the locker, and overhauled
upon the deck; and the other matters attended to, which are not to be
neglected on a ship about coming to an anchorage. Towards night, the
changing color of the water, which in the deep ocean is of a dark blue,
but which had now become of a greenish tinge, told us of the proximity
of land.

At sunrise of the next morning, the cry of, “Land on the starboard
bow!” awoke me from a sound slumber. Hurrying on deck, I was able to
discover a faint streak of red in the distant horizon, which a sailor
declared to be “the loom of the land;” and by eight o’clock the low
shores of the Uruguayan republic were distinctly visible from our deck,
and the monotony of our sea life was at an end.

As it was necessary to take a pilot on board, we were obliged to first
make Montevideo, the great seaport of the Banda Oriental, or Uruguayan
republic, which country, as most of my readers are doubtless aware,
was formerly a constant bone of contention between Buenos Ayres and
Brazil, but is now independent of both, and according to all accounts
promises to become the greatest producer of wool of the South American
republics.

A light breeze wafted us past the rocky isle of Flores to Montevideo,
where, about dusk, we dropped anchor at a distance of three miles from
the shore.

While aloft, I had time to observe that a conical mountain, with smooth
sides, and crowned by an old fort, was connected with the main land by
a peninsula, in such a manner that a fine bay was formed, where a large
fleet of vessels were lying at anchor. The fort on the mount showed a
light, four hundred and seventy-five feet above the level of the sea.
The town lies on the opposite side of the bay, to the eastward of the
mountain, from which fact it derives its name.

By the time the sails were furled, and several additional ranges of
chain overhauled, night came on, and the anchor watch was set, with
orders to call the mate if it lightened in the south-west, the region
of _pamperos_.

My watch was from nine to ten: when I was relieved, I went below with a
light heart, and “turned in” to my bunk, with the prospect of unbroken
rest. It was perhaps an hour later that I was awakened by the confused
sounds on deck, caused by the “letting go” the second anchor, and the
loud calling down the companion-way for “all hands on deck.” Hurrying
above, we found that a _pampero_ had struck the vessel, which was
moving through the water at the rate of at least four miles an hour
before the force of the hurricane. When the second anchor became fast,
however, the vessel’s course was checked, she swung around, broadside
to the wind, and held her ground. The force of the wind striking our
backs was so great that we were obliged to take shelter beneath the
bulwarks to recover our breath.

The darkness was intense, save when flashes of lightning illumined
every headland along the coast, and threw out in bold relief the
mountain and its castle. But duty called us from the protection of
the bulwarks to the chain lockers. Vainly, however, did the officers
vociferate their commands; not a word could we understand; but we
instinctively laid hold of the chain, and, guided by flashes of
lightning, paid out many fathoms. Hardly had we accomplished our object
in giving scope to the cable, when a noise like thunder announced
that one of the sails, the main spencer, had broken adrift, and in an
instant it beat and clattered across the quarter-deck. From side to
side it tore, cutting the rigging to pieces, with the block at its
clew. Half an hour’s labor was ineffectual in securing the sail, though
ends of braces were strongly passed around it; it continually broke
loose, tumbling upon the deck all the men who were clinging to it, and
we might have labored much longer, had not Manuel crawled aloft, and
cut the sail adrift, by coming down the jack-stay, knife in hand.

The spencer had not been securely fastened before from between the
harness-casks, the mizzen staysail, which had been carefully furled,
seemed endowed with life, for in an instant it ran up its stay like a
bird, and was at once torn to shreds.

At this point the prospect was fair for a wreck. The captain brought
an axe on deck to prepare for the last resort. But such a fierce wind
fortunately could not last long; its own force must prove exhaustive:
it soon came only in gusts, and two hours later it had greatly subsided.

The scene now around us challenged our attention; and, until morning,
I leaned across the rail, completely engrossed with the many curious
phenomena before me.

The air was filled with electrical flashes, which at times rendered the
tall mount plainly visible, and brought out the spars of the fleet in
the bay in weird-like prominence against the gloomy background.

The fort on the height seemed clothed with flame, while the short,
quick waves around the vessel gleamed with phosphorescent light. The
_pampero_ had struck the vessel during the watch succeeding mine, and
the man on duty became so frightened that he did not call the mate.
Luckily, that officer discovered the true state of affairs in time to
prevent a serious disaster.

The dawn of the following morning revealed a sight such as might be
expected after so violent a hurricane. In one part of the harbor were
two vessels, whose crews were hard at work in clearing them from the
entanglement of their rigging, which was completely wrecked.

Close by lay two others, with their topmasts gone, and in the distance
were many others in a similar condition; while from the town came
floating logs, boxes, barrels, and other lumber in great quantities,
telling of the havoc of the _pampero_.

The effect of the wind was even felt to a greater extent farther up the
river, where some fifteen or twenty small vessels were capsized, and
many of the crews drowned.

A new and beautiful English bark, that had left her anchorage for
Buenos Ayres the night before, we saw two days afterwards; but she was
nothing but a dismantled hulk, with only the stump of her mizzenmast
left: every spar had been blown away, and one of her men killed by a
falling mast.

Though the _pampero_ season generally lasts from March to September,
this wind is likely to blow at any time; and a careful captain will
always be prepared for it. The state of the mercury in his barometer,
together with the appearance of the heavens in the south-west, must
be carefully watched. These winds, coming from the cold summits of
the Andes, sweep first across an undulating, then a flat country;
and, meeting no obstacle to break their force, do great damage to the
settlements about Buenos Ayres, as well as to the shipping in the River
Plata, and are felt many miles out to sea.

The River Plata, at its entrance, between Cape St. Mary on the north
coast, and Cape St. Antonio on the south, is one hundred and seventy
miles; and we can see that the _pampero_, in traversing this broad
channel, has a most unobstructed course.

At noon a pilot came aboard, bearing a letter from the owner’s agent;
and at about eleven o’clock the following night we hove up both
anchors, and, with a fine breeze, sailed up the river. Thirty-six hours
later, we dropped anchor in the outer roads of Buenos Ayres, seven
or eight miles from the city, whose plastered dwellings and lofty
cathedral were plainly seen from the decks of our vessel.

                             CHAPTER III.

                 BUENOS AYRES.--THE PROVINCE AND CITY.

For a whole month I was obliged to remain by the vessel, awaiting the
arrival of the orders that were to set me free. During this period, to
prepare the vessel for a long stay, the lighter spars were sent down,
the flying jib-boom sent in, sails unbent, &c. The tides in the River
Plata are governed by the wind, and have no regularity in rising; the
current of the river is at the rate of three miles per hour. Vessels
drawing above eleven feet of water remain in the outer roads, while
smaller craft can approach within two or three miles of the city;
all of these discharge and receive their cargoes by the assistance
of lighters, generally schooner-rigged, and principally manned by
foreigners,--chiefly French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese.

At last, about the 20th of February, a Boston vessel entered the river,
bringing letters from home, and I was gratified by the information from
the captain, that, after seeing the American consul, who had received
orders to discharge me from duty, I should be at liberty to depart on
my long pedestrian journey. I went ashore at the earliest opportunity,
and at once called upon Colonel Joseph Graham, the American consul,
who received me with great kindness, but condemned my intention of
crossing, alone, so wild a country, with the people and language
of which I had no acquaintance; he, however, furnished me with the
necessary papers of protection, together with letters of introduction
to various persons in the interior. During my stay in the consul’s
office Dr. Henry Kennedy, a young North American physician, came in,
and although a stranger to me, presented me, after a few minutes’
conversation, with a letter of introduction to Mr. G--n, a resident of
Rosario. This act of kindness towards a stranger proved the generous
character of Dr. Kennedy, and it is with a feeling of gratitude that I
recall his name here. I was now my own master, and at once went about
the city in search of information relative to crossing the country.

The consul and one or two other parties had given me the names of
persons to whom I was to apply for the necessary information to guide
me in my journey. I was surprised, however, to find that the foreign
merchants knew so little of the interior; for, after several days’
inquiry, the principal fact that I learned was, that to cross the
pampas on foot it would be necessary to accompany one of the troops of
carts that carried merchandise to the other provinces, as otherwise I
would find it impossible to obtain food or to follow the right trail.
One of my informants was a stout little Irish gentleman, who quoted a
message sent to Sir Woodbine Parish, by a gentleman who crossed the
country several years before; and as his description is almost true of
the Buenos Ayrean, or southern road across the pampas, I will present
it here. He said, “The country is more uninteresting than any I ever
travelled over, in any quarter of the globe. I should divide it into
five regions; first, that of thistles, inhabited by owls and biscachas;
second, that of grass, where you meet with deer, ostriches, and the
screaming, horned plover; third, the region of swamps and morasses,
only fit for frogs; fourth, that of stones and ravines, where I
expected every moment to be upset; and, last, that of ashes and thorny
shrubs, the refuge of the tarantula and binchuco, or giant-bug.

“And now,” continued the little Irishman, “I ask leave to put you a
question. How many days can you conveniently go without water?”

“Two or three, perhaps,” I replied.

“Well, then, you will never last to cross the plains,” was his
encouraging answer; “for, mark you, a merchant of this city crossed
last summer, and went without water for _twenty-one days_. I think you
had better return to America, and give up travelling for information.”

Such were the stories--some true, and many, like that of the Irishman,
utterly fabulous--that were told me by the different individuals upon
whom I called during my short stay in Buenos Ayres. In the course of
my inquiries I learned that a train of wagons would shortly leave
Rosario, a small town upon the River Paraná, about two hundred miles
north of Buenos Ayres, for Mendoza, a town situated at the base of the
Andes, and I resolved to visit the place in time to catch the caravan.
A steamboat plied between the city of Buenos Ayres and Rosario, but as
it was not to sail for a fortnight, I had ample time for surveying the
adjacent country, and even for making a flying visit across the Plata
to the Banda Oriental.

The State of Buenos Ayres usually monopolizes the attention of visitors
to the region which is known as the Argentine Confederation, on account
of her favorable situation on the seaboard, her possession of the
only maritime port in the vast confederacy, and the predominating
influence which these advantages have secured to her in peace as well
as in war. The state contains an area of fifty-two thousand square
miles, and is, consequently, but little larger than the State of New
York. Her population, according to an estimate formed some ten years
since, amounted to some three hundred and twenty thousand souls; of
whom one hundred and twenty thousand are inhabitants of the city, while
the remainder are sparsely distributed over the extensive plains that
commence a few miles from the coast, and, running inland, stretch
across and far beyond the limits of the state. The population of the
city itself is composed of a great variety of types and colors, among
which, however, the whites are rapidly predominating; as every year
introduces new blood from Europe and North America, while parties
interested are doing their best, in connection with the government,
to divert a portion of the Irish immigration from the United Slates
towards their own province. The government furnishes immigrants with
land free of charge, but an extortionate price is not unfrequently
paid, in the end, for a farm.

The study of the mixed races which inhabit, not only this province,
but also the entire region between the Paraná and the Cordillera, has
as yet received but little attention from the student of ethnology.
The lines of demarcation, however, between race and race, are clear
and distinct; and the future ethnographer of this region will have no
difficulty in tracing the population, through its intermediate stages
of gauchos, zambas, mestizos, etc., to its origin with the immigration
from Old Spain and other European countries, and to the aboriginal and
negro stocks.

Throughout the state the soil is richly alluvial to a depth of two or
more feet, beneath which lies a stratum of clay, differing in kind
and quality according to its location. Thus strata of white, yellow,
and red clays have been discovered in different regions of the same
province, furnishing the population with abundant material for the
manufacture of tiles, bricks, and innumerable articles of pottery.

For nearly two hundred miles west of the La Plata, the soil produces a
luxuriant growth of herbage, which is choked, however, in many places,
by extensive _forests_ of gigantic thistles, which grow to such a
height that men, passing through them on horseback, are hidden by the
lofty stems. So heavy is this growth that, at times, the thistle fields
are impassable to man, and serve to the wild animals of the pampas as
an undisturbed lair. These thistles are fired, from time to time, by
the gauchos; after the ground that they covered has been burnt over,
a fine sweet crop of grass starts up, upon which the cattle feed
luxuriantly.

A native author, of eminent accuracy, who has carefully studied the
statistics and resources of the province of Buenos Ayres, has published
the following estimate of the value of real estate and other property
in the country, in 1855:--

_State of Buenos Ayres, its Extent, Value, &c_

  Fifty-two thousand miles of uncultivated
    lands, at $1000 per square mile,          $52,000,000
  Six million head of cattle, at $6 per head,  36,000,000
  Three million mares, at $1 per head,          3,000,000
  Five million sheep, at $1 per head,           5,000,000
  Half a million swine, at $1 per head,           500,000
  Houses, &c., in the country,                 10,000,000
                                             ------------
    Total value,                             $106,500,000

The following statement, derived from the Buenos Ayres Custom House,
for the first six months of 1854, may serve as a means of estimating
the number of horned cattle in the state:--

  Hides exported in six months, 1854,           759,968
  Deduct quantity received from the provinces,  121,166
                                              ---------
  Total exports of Buenos Ayres hides, in six
    months,                                     638,802
                                              ---------
  Add a corresponding six months’ exports
  for balance of the year,                      638,802
                                              ---------
  Estimated export for 1854,                  1,277,604

The following were some of the agricultural productions of Buenos Ayres
in 1854, as computed by Señor Maezo:--

  Wheat,               200,000 fanezas.
  Maize and barley,    70,000    ”
  Potatoes,            60,000    ”

The _faneza_ is nearly equal to four English imperial bushels, or to
2218.192 cubic inches.

Of late years the value of provisions, hides, tallow, and horns has
been greatly enhanced.

I am informed that under the government of General Rosas, the price of
beef was fixed by law at fifteen cents per arroba (twenty-five pounds),
and that the severest punishment was inflicted for any attempt to evade
or infringe upon the regulation. The price of beef during my stay in
the province was never less than sixty cents per arroba.

Frequent revolutions have naturally hindered, in a very great degree,
the development of the resources of this province. Since 1810-11 it
has been subjected to continual and sudden changes of government: at
one moment, as it were, attempting to form the cornerstone of a vast
confederation, in a short time the scene of the wildest anarchy, and
soon prostrate under one of the most grinding despotisms that the
nineteenth century has beheld.

Buenos Ayres, the richest and most powerful of the provinces of La
Plata, holds herself aloof from the remainder, preferring a state of
isolation, through dislike for President Urquiza, to joining with
her sister states in laying the foundation of a strong and permanent
confederacy. Her import and export duties, together with port charges,
stamps, direct taxes, &c., constitute a considerable revenue; and
these resources would, undoubtedly, give her a powerful influence over
the other states should she finally become a part of the Argentine
Confederation. Though a coolness, almost amounting to ill-will,
is manifested by the people of Buenos Ayres towards those of the
neighborhood provinces, a treaty has been lately signed by the two
governments, in which each promises aid and assistance to the other in
case of attack from a neighboring or foreign power. It is evident, from
their careful movements, that all the La Plata states stand in dread of
their grasping and powerful neighbor--the empire of Brazil.

The city of Buenos Ayres is laid out in the usual Spanish-American
manner--in squares, measuring one hundred and fifty yards upon a side;
the streets, of course, cross each other at right angles, and run due
north and south, east and west. They are regular throughout, but are
very roughly paved. With some exceptions the dwellings are of but
one story in height, and are built of brick, overlaid with a white
plaster, which gives them a very neat appearance; but the heavy iron
gratings with which every window is protected detract not a little from
the beauty of the dwellings; and a stranger unaccustomed to Spanish
architecture may readily, at the first sight of these forbidding
gratings, believe himself among the prisons of the city. The roofs are
covered with oval or square tiles.

Buenos Ayres is rich in public institutions. Her theatres and places
of public resort are eight in number, besides the governor’s mansion,
the House of Representatives, and the Casa de Justicia, or Hall of
Justice. Besides these may be enumerated the Tribunal of Commerce, the
Inspection of Arms, the Artillery Arsenal, the Ecclesiastical Seminary,
the Museum of Natural History, Public Library, Custom House, Mint,
Bank, and Jail.

The treatment of the inmates of the latter institution secures for
them a degree of comfort far less than that which is reached in our own
reformatory institutions.

In addition to the public buildings enumerated above, there are also
suites of rooms occupied by the Ecclesiastical Court, the General
Archives, Topographical Department, Statistical Department, Medical
Academy, Historical Institute, etc.

The citizens of Buenos Ayres have well provided for the unfortunate.
Besides granting licenses to mendicants, and allowing them to go from
door to door _on horseback_, the municipality has established an asylum
for orphans and a foundling hospital.

Besides the cathedral, there are thirteen Catholic churches, two
monasteries, and three convents. There are two hospitals, one for
males, the other for females; but these institutions have neither the
conveniences nor skilful physicians which those of more enlightened
or longer established countries possess. There are also three foreign
hospitals, supported by the English, French, and Italian governments.

The _plazas_, or public squares, are nine or ten in number; one of
them is overlooked by the lofty cathedral and by the Casa de Justicia,
and contains a monument, erected in commemoration of past events of
national importance, and especially of the Declaration of Independence
from the mother country.

Many improvements have been made in the city in late years, chief among
which is the new brick seawall, of considerable height, protecting the
town from damage by high tides of the river.

From this wall, projecting into the stream, there was in process of
construction at the time of my arrival a mole or wharf, of great
length, which has since been completed, enabling small vessels and
lighters to discharge their cargoes unassisted by the clumsy carts that
formerly were the sole means of communication with the shore. The piles
that support this wharf are pointed with iron, a precaution rendered
necessary by the peculiarly hard formation of the river bed at this
locality.

As the soil is impregnated with nitrate of potash, the well and other
water is rendered unfit for table use. The wealthier citizens have deep
cisterns at their residences, in which rain water is preserved; but the
poorer classes have no other beverage than the river water, which is
carried around the city in barrels, upon horses and mules, and retailed
at a moderate price.

Slavery, which existed in these regions in a mild form until 1813,
was, during that year, abolished by law. The system never assumed, in
point of fact, that form which existed in our own republic, but was so
lenient that the slaves were treated rather as children, or favorite
servants, than as merely so much property.

Its gradual extinction set in many years before the period of
legislation upon the subject. During the struggle for independence, the
slave frequently fought side by side with his master, and manifested an
equal anxiety with him to be liberated from the dominion of Spain. In
consideration of services rendered during these patriotic struggles,
and from a conviction that the system was far from beneficial to a
newly-organized republic, the slaves were emancipated, and their
descendants now form a valuable and active class, retaining little of
the indolence usually ascribed to the unfortunate races from which they
sprung.

During the ascendency of Rosas, the negro population was devotedly
attached to Doña Mañuelita, his celebrated daughter, and their
influence with her was almost boundless. It is related that in 1840,
while an attack by Lavalle was momentarily expected, a young man from
the town of San Juan was in Buenos Ayres, and was forbidden, under
pain of death, to leave the city. An aged negress, who had, in former
years, been in the service of his family, happened to recognize him,
and learned his anxiety to depart. “All right, my friend!” she said; “I
will go at once, and get you a passport.” “Impossible!” exclaimed the
young man. “Not at all,” replied the negress. “La Señorita Mañuelita
will not deny it to me.”

In a quarter of an hour she brought a passport, signed by Rosas,
enjoining his mercenaries to oppose no hinderance to the bearer’s
departure.

Thus gained over by petty favors from the all-powerful dictator, the
negroes formed a corps of zealous spies and adherents of Rosas, whose
secret observations were carried on in the very midst of the families
whom he suspected. They also formed a brigade of excellent troops, on
whose fidelity he was able to rely at all times.

Don Domingo F. Sarmiento, from one of whose works the above anecdote
is derived, is one of the most enlightened patriots and philosophers
of South America. He is a native of San Juan, a town in the interior
of the Confederation, but has travelled extensively in Europe and the
United States, and was for many years a resident of Chili, whither
he was banished by Rosas in 1840. He has done much by his writings to
advance a practical knowledge both of the principles of agriculture
and of education in his native country, and is earnestly endeavoring
to secure the cooperation of the government and legislature of Buenos
Ayres in the advancement of those sciences. He desires to see some
portion of the European emigration diverted from the United States to
Buenos Ayres, the government of which province, indeed, offers land
freely to all who will settle in the interior; and he has recently
published, among other valuable works, a treatise on agriculture and
education, entitled “_Plan combinado de Educacion comun, Silvicultura
e Industria Pastoril_,” especially designed for the province of Buenos
Ayres. He is also translating into Spanish the writings of Adams,
Jefferson, and others of our early statesmen, which we may hope will
enlighten the Spanish republics of South America on a subject that they
seem at best to very imperfectly understand.

A word concerning the currency of this province, and I will dismiss it
from the reader’s attention. Rosas, before he was driven from power,
established a paper currency, which, being of small nominal value, was
intended to supply the place of coin. These bills were struck off with
the value of from one to several hundred _pesos_ stamped upon them. But
their value fluctuated to such an extent, that while at one time one
Spanish dollar could purchase twenty _pesos_, a few weeks later not
eight could be obtained with the same sum. At the present time a _peso_
is valued at four or five cents of our money.

It is said that the president, having put this currency into
circulation, realized thousands of dollars from it by monopolizing
the money market, and causing the paper to rise or depreciate at his
pleasure. I have seen a four-_real_ piece coined by him, or by order
of his government (which amounted to the same thing), with these words
stamped upon it: “Eterno Rosas” (Eternal Rosas). This man was, in every
sense of the word, a tyrant--cool, calculating, and selfish; possessed
of a degree of cunning and penetration, that aided him in discovering
his most secret enemies. Ruthless in the execution of his designs, he
spared neither age nor sex; even the venerable mayor, his earliest
friend, his more than father, was murdered in cold blood by a party
of _masorgueros_ (men of the Masorca, or club, a band of butchers and
assassins, on whom Rosas relied for the perpetuation of his reign of
terror), at the bidding of their atrocious chief.

In a work published at Montevideo, in 1845, by Don José Rivera Indarte,
a native of Buenos Ayres, he gives the following estimate of the
numbers who died through the hatred or caprice of Rosas: Poisoned, 4;
executed with the sword, 3765; shot, 1393; assassinated, 722,--total,
5884. Add this to the numbers slain in battle, and those executed by
military orders, at a moderate computation 16,520, we have 22,404
victims. If we deduct from this--allowing some latitude for the
prejudices of Señor Indarte--one third for exaggeration, we still have
14,936,--a fearful aggregate of victims to the ambition of a Gaucho
chief.

But his career has ended; the exiled patriots have returned from Brazil
and Chili, and in place of his there exists another, and, it is to be
hoped, a better, government. He was at one time the absolute ruler of
his country; and his long and cruel reign has left an effect upon its
inhabitants which many years of wise legislation alone can eradicate.

                              CHAPTER IV.

                VISIT TO THE TIGRE AND BANDA ORIENTAL.

The steamer in which I expected to embark for Rosario, on the Paraná
River, would not sail from Buenos Ayres for ten days or a fortnight,
and I began to look around me for some occupation, by means of which
I might become more acquainted with the localities about the city. I
was eager to visit the gaucho in his home upon the pampas; and when a
young man, who had just arrived from New York, invited me to accompany
him across the Plata to the Republic of Uruguay, I did not wait for a
second invitation, but accepted his offer upon the spot.

I knew nothing more of this young man than that he had come to Buenos
Ayres recommended to the first merchant of the place; but that his
purpose for the visit was a secret one, I did not at the time suspect.
He prepared himself for the journey by simply providing himself with a
large blanket, a revolver pistol, and a _sounding-rod_. The first two
articles seemed rational enough; but the rod, which he carried as a
cane, required an explanation.

We received from a countryman a letter of introduction to Edward
Hopkins, Esq., who was about to sail in the “Asuncion” for the north
side of the river. This gentleman was at the River Tigre, twenty-one
miles from Buenos Ayres, and acted as agent for the United States and
Paraguay Navigation Company. As there was no other way for crossing the
Plata to the particular part of the coast where my friend wished to
land, he decided to visit the Tigre, and embark in the Asuncion.

Having bargained for seats with the driver of the diligence that ran
between Buenos Ayres and the village of San Fernando, near the Tigre,
we set out one fine morning, accompanied by a native gentleman, who
spoke English imperfectly.

Our _cochero_ was a conceited fellow, and felt the dignity of office to
an unnecessary degree. We had no little amusement during our journey
with him in watching the phases of his character: once, when the cart
of a milkman became entangled in the harness of our horses, he became
so laughable in his wounded pride and impotent rage, that we had
difficulty in restraining our faces to a decently sober appearance. As
we became disentangled, and drove on, he, in the midst of a volley of
_carrambas_, denounced all cartmen who had the impudence to cross the
track of the mail-coach. And such, in fact, his vehicle was; but, as we
noticed that the contents of the mail, instead of being confined in a
mail-bag, or other suitable receptacle, were scattered here and there
in various corners of the coach, some tucked beneath the cushions, and
others lying under our feet, the opinion that we formed of the native
postal arrangements was not of the highest.

For nearly a league we passed over a Macadamized road, shaded here and
there by willows that ran along the river. We soon passed the deserted
_quinta_ of General Rosas. The house was built upon arches, the
materials being brick and plaster. Around it were artificial groves,
and little lakes and canals of water.

To the right of the house, on the side nearest the city, were numerous
little brick buildings, where the tyrant quartered his troops. The
situation was very beautiful, and the surroundings altogether were
interesting.

Farther on were _casas_ (houses) of country gentlemen, with orchards of
peach, olive, and quince, which, with the foliage of many varieties of
shrubs, made the prospect on all sides most beautiful.

If a well-regulated estate particularly attracted our attention, we
universally found, on inquiry, that its owner was a foreigner, whom
the _cochero_ dignified by the low word _gringo_, which is equivalent
to “paddy” in our own language; and in this estimation, I afterwards
found, our countrymen and all strangers are held by the indolent and
treacherous country people.

Wheat, potatoes, onions, beans, tomatoes, &c., thrive wonderfully upon
the farms; and, if the whole agricultural department were in foreign
hands, the country, with its fine climate, and rich and easily-worked
lands, could produce almost every kind of vegetable. With the exception
of a few English and Scotch, the French from the Basque provinces are
the most energetic and thrifty farmers. In a few instances the Yankee
plough has been used with great success, in place of the miserable
wooden one of the natives.

We met large covered wagons carrying produce to the city, and troops
of mules and donkeys freighted with thistles, in bundles, to heat the
ovens of the bakers; also others with peach and willow trees, which had
been raised for firewood, an article bringing a good price, on account
of its scarcity.

As we approached the Tigre and Las Conchas, we found that the country
is undulating; but beyond the line of the latter, it stretches out into
the pampas as far as the vision can reach.

The diligence entered San Fernando about noon; we found it a little
town, surrounded with fruit trees left to the care of nature, the
people being satisfied with her products without wasting time in
laboring to improve them.

Two miles distant was the River Tigre, which empties its waters into
the wide Plata; towards the river we directed our steps, and we arrived
in time to dine with Edward Hopkins, Esq., the gentleman whom we had
come to visit.

Mr. Hopkins, who has acted as our consul in Paraguay, and as agent for
the United States and Paraguay Navigation Company, invited us aboard
the little steamer Asuncion, which had been put together at this place
a short time before.

This company had been formed in the United States for the purpose of
opening commercial intercourse with Paraguay, a country that had,
under the dictator Francia, excluded foreigners. Lopez, its present
ruler, had been on very intimate terms with our countryman, Mr. H.;
and, taking advantage of this intimacy, and the president’s friendly
feeling towards the United States, the above company was formed; and it
soon sent out from Providence, R. I., a clipper schooner of beautiful
mould, containing, in pieces, a small steamer and “hoop boat,” with
their appropriate crews, carpenters, millwrights, &c.

The schooner was damaged in the Tigre; but her cargo was landed,
and the Asuncion put together, and sent up the Paraná to Paraguay.
A cigar manufactory, employing three hundred native girls, was set
on foot, a colony formed, and the steamer was to run between that
country and Buenos Ayres, when an event occurred that blasted the
prospects of the North Americans. A brother of Mr. Hopkins was stopped
in the street for some trivial cause (probably galloping his horse)
by a _vigilante_, whose language was insulting, whereupon difficulty
ensued. As representative of his government, Mr. Hopkins interfered;
and then followed the expulsion of our countrymen from the unexplored
and little-known Paraguay. The United States steamer Water Witch,
then lying in the Plata, ascended the river, and was fired upon from
a fortification; several balls lodged in her hull, and one man was
killed. The Water Witch destroyed the structure, and retired down the
river to Montevideo, while the company’s men settled at the Tigre until
matters could be adjusted. The Asuncion was then engaged in carrying
sheep across to the Banda Oriental, the country on the north shores of
the Plata, which is known on some maps as Uruguay.

San Fernando, in conjunction with the Tigre, is the watering-place of
the _ton_ of Buenos Ayres, many of whom pass the summer in the village.
The next day after our arrival was passed in pleasant conversation with
our countryman, and during the evening a large party of ladies and
gentlemen sailed down the river to two islands covered with groves of
peach trees, where they took _maté_ (tea), and danced La Samba Cueca,
to the music of the guitar. I did not accompany them; for, having met
a young man whose desire for travel had caused him to leave home,
we passed the night wandering among the willows on the banks of the
stream, and at an early hour on the following morning retired to rest
as the piano frog was chanting his reveillé.

This was a spot where the naturalist would love to dwell. Above our
heads sang many curious birds, and around us were still more curious
insects.

On the neighboring church of Las Conchas, the _carpentero_ built its
oven-like nest, and parrots filled the air with their cries, while the
mocking-bird rattled out his medley as in our own country.

As strangers, we were cordially received by the natives who occupied
the houses close at hand, and many were the _matés_ (cups of Paraguay
tea) we took, because the pretty señoritas informed us that their
language and _maté_ were inseparable, and not until the foreigner
became addicted to its use could he ride a horse, throw the lasso,
learn the language, or win a fair maid.

I have already alluded to the _yerba_, sometimes called _yerba maté_,
from which the Paraguay tea is made.

It is to South America what the tea of China is to Europe and the
United States; nor are its qualities very greatly different from those
of the Asiatic herb.

The _yerba_ trees grow in forests, called _yerbales_, on the rivers of
Paraguay, and attain a considerable size.

At the time of gathering, a party of peons are sent into the forest,
who collect the branches, sprigs, and leaves in vast piles, which are
afterwards thoroughly scorched. This being accomplished, the leaves
and twigs are packed in a raw hide, which contracts as it dries,
compressing the _yerba_ into an almost solid mass. In this condition it
is sent to market.

The _maté_ is a small gourd, which forms the general drinking-cup in
all the regions which I visited. An infusion of the _yerba_ having been
made, with accessories, as in our own country, it is sucked from the
_maté_ through a tin or silver tube, called the _bombilla_, which is
provided at its lower extremity with a strainer, which prevents the
fine particles of the _yerba_ from rising to the mouth. The name of the
gourd or cup is not unfrequently coupled with that of the tea itself in
mentioning the article.

At last everything was ready for our departure; and at eleven o’clock
one starlight night we sailed slowly along the little Tigre, and,
passing the peach islands at its mouth, in an hour after, were fairly
on our passage across the Plata, which at this point is nearly thirty
miles wide. Upon arriving off the San Juan River, early the next
morning, the tide was out, and the bar at the mouth of the stream
impassable, which obliged us to remain stationary until afternoon,
when the rising tide permitted us to wind up the stream, and through
luxuriant foliage, the home of the tiger-cat, and once the lair of the
fierce jaguar, which is now, however, rarely met with, having been
driven from his ancient hunting-grounds by parties of natives who
had been exasperated by his continual depredations. Now the little
tiger-cat and wild dogs are their tormentors and annually a tiger hunt
comes off at the mouth of the river.

We arrived at our destination in due time, and the cargo of sheep was
safely landed. Preparations for the night had hardly been completed,
when from a certain quarter were heard loud and prolonged sounds, so
wild and fearful that our attention was directed towards it.

“It is the voices of wild animals scenting the sheep-fold,” said one
of our party. The shepherd dogs on the borders of the stream pricked
up their ears, and the hair stood up stiffly upon their backs as they
walked around the sleeping flock, growling savagely.

While we listened, the sounds grew more and more distinct, and shortly
we were upon our feet to repel an attack from a pack of wild dogs.
Perceiving that we were too strong to be molested with impunity, they
withdrew, snapping and growling, for a short distance, where they
continued their music for two or three hours, and then drew off to
another _estancia_.

These animals hunt in packs, and though of a cowardly nature, will,
when fierce with hunger, attack man. The following incident, which
occurred a few days prior to our arrival, proves this often-contested
fact.

A _capataz_ (foreman) of an _estancia_ (farm), while returning from a
distant village to his home, met a pack of these dogs. The instinct of
the brutes told them that the tired horse could not outstrip them in
the long run. They gave chase, and soon brought the horse and rider to
the ground. The _capataz_ had no other weapon than his knife, which
proved ineffectual for his defence, and both man and horse were torn to
pieces and devoured.

On the day after our arrival we saw at the _estancia_ house three of
these dogs, which had been taken from caves near the River San Juan.
The largest was about a year old; although he associated with the house
dogs, he would not suffer any person to approach him, and exhibited
all the traits of his wild brethren that serenaded him almost every
night. The two others were only a few weeks old, and were as playful as
kittens.

These wild dogs are of a slight frame, and are generally of a brown and
yellow color; the mouths are of a dusky-brown, or black. Without doubt
they descended from the domestic dogs brought into the country by the
Spanish or Portuguese Jesuits during the period of the early settlement
of the La Plata provinces.

Early upon the following morning, the gauchos pointed out the path
that led to the _estancia_ house, and my friend Ned and myself set out
to visit it. Larks, partridges, and many other birds started from the
grass as we pursued our way on foot. All these birds were exceedingly
tame; and had we been in possession of a gun, we should have arrived at
the house with a bag of game.

The farm was owned by a German, who gave us a cordial welcome, and
insisted upon our remaining to breakfast.

The estate was a small one for that country, embracing but ten or
twelve square miles. The owner purchased it of the last tenant, who
sold for a fair price, but, when he received the money, declared
that the German must pay him extra for the buildings. The new owner,
having, as he supposed, paid for “top and bottom,” refused to give an
additional sum; but the native was inexorable, and the buyer, knowing
that a foreigner receives no justice from South American tribunals,
wisely settled the affair, after much loss of time and money, by paying
the full demand. Almost every bargain that is consummated between a
foreigner and a native results largely in favor of the latter party. By
bribery, falsehood, or perjury,--he cares but little which,--the native
will outwit the “gringo,” and then, in a most barefaced manner, tell
him that it is by superior wit and talent that the end is thus brought
in favor of a _Christian_; for so all true Catholics of both republics,
the Banda Oriental and Argentine, are called, or call themselves, with
no little egotism.

After partaking of a nourishing meal,--farina, soup, and meat,--Ned
strapped his bundle to his back, carefully loaded his revolver, and,
after several studied inquiries as to certain locations along the coast
of the Plata, bade me to prepare to follow him. Our new friends offered
us horses, saddles, &c.; but Ned had a particular reason for travelling
on foot, and so, bidding our German friends adieu, we posted off in
a westerly direction. Our landmark was the mud hut of an _estancia_,
about seven miles distant, situated on a swell of the prairie. About
the _estancia_ we were leaving were several high hills, which sloped
off into the rolling plain. A portion of these hills were barren, and
broken rocks cropped out at their bases; but the plains or rolling
ground about them, upon which the cattle fed, was covered with fine
grass, occasionally intermixed with flowers. Just beyond the house, at
the base of one of the hills, we descried a shepherd sitting upon the
rocks, apparently watching his flock, that fed upon the plain; but a
closer scrutiny proved that he was fast in the delights of a _siesta_.
Puffs of wind that came around the hills flaunted his _chiropá_ and
_poncho_ in a wild manner, which, together with his long beard, gave
him the appearance of an old gypsy.

“Now we are clear of all eaves-droppers,” said my friend, “and as we go
along, I will tell you what strange circumstances brought me here, and
why I left a good home and profitable business to wander mysteriously
on this side of the Plata. I am sometimes visionary. My friends say
so, and I believe it to be so; but the cause that tempted me to leave
a wife and child was not so visionary as some of my friends have
declared, and I mean to prove to them their error by returning to New
York, in one year’s time, a rich man. I can prove by history that a
small vessel, sailed by Spanish pirates, went ashore upon this coast,
not twenty, or at the most fifty, miles from the spot that we are now
upon. She had a large amount of money on board, which was taken ashore,
and buried not far from the wreck: two or three trees mark the spot;
they are old now, but are probably still standing. If they are not
standing, I have still another landmark to tell me where the treasure
lies.

“The first fact which I stated is supported by history; that portion
regarding the treasure is known only to me. The man who imparted the
secret was an invalid for many years past, and, therefore, unable to
come for the treasure himself. He confided it to me upon his death-bed,
in New York city, about a year since. We had been intimate for years,
and could rely on each other. Why he kept the secret from me for such
a length of time, I cannot surmise, unless it was because he hoped to
recover, and come for it himself. He died poor, and his words to me
were of this import: ‘Go to the Plata, and after coming into possession
of this hidden wealth, return with it to New York, give to my widow
three quarters, and keep the other fourth for yourself.’

“I have now only to seek out certain localities; when these are found
I shall know just where to sink my rod, and I am certain of success.
The reason that I have imparted a portion of this secret to you is,
that I must have some person to assist me in taking the treasure to
some vessel in the outer roads of Buenos Ayres. As soon as we have
ascertained that all is right, I shall despatch you to the Tigre to
purchase a boat, and as you have been long enough on board ship to
‘know the ropes,’ you will not deem it too great a risk to watch for a
fair wind, and navigate the craft across the river. We will then load
up, and steer some fine night, with the tide in our favor, for the
Mary II., that lies off the city. The captain will not be there; but
the mate is a confidential friend, and we will get our things on board
without any trouble from the Custom House officers.

“When I tell you that I have sold out a profitable business, and expect
to spend at least fifteen hundred dollars in this enterprise, you will
credit me with sanguine hopes, and conclude that I must have strong and
good reasons for risking myself and the support of my family in such a
romantic undertaking.”

I had before this heard of the Rio Plata gold hunters; but what could
I do? Advise my friend to go home to his wife, of whom he often spoke
in terms of strong affection, or assist him in his labors, and follow
after the _ignis fatuus_ that had lured him from friends and domestic
pleasures? I answered him after this wise. “Ned,” said I, “I shall
offer no opinion regarding this gold hunt, nor discourage you from an
undertaking for the success of which you confess you have embarrassed
yourself and purse; but I also have a mission to perform. I came to
this country with the intention of crossing the pampas to Mendoza, from
which town I mean to cross the Andes to Valparaiso, Chili. From the
latest and best authority I have learned that the mountains will be
impassable after the first week in May, and as it is now late in the
season to insure a safe journey to Valparaiso, it will be necessary for
me to leave Buenos Ayres in the next steamer, which will be ready to
sail in a few days. Until the sailing day I will devote my time to your
plans, but no longer.”

Though Ned spoke with enthusiasm, and promised the reward of one
thousand dollars in case of success, I remained obstinate, and debate
was dropped.

As we trudged on our journey, various birds and animals were at
times seen by us. Once two small deer approached us, and acted as if
influenced by great curiosity, and again, a tall ostrich started out
of the grass, and, raising her plumed wings, ran off at the top of her
speed.

Having reached the _estancia_ house,--our landmark already referred
to,--we halted to ask for water. The little that the family had was in
an old barrel; by the side of it was a cow’s dirty horn, out of which
we drank. We continued our journey to the next stopping-place, five
miles beyond. This was a small hut surrounded by corrals, the whole
serving as an outpost to a large _estancia_. The occupants were a lazy
gaucho and his negress wife, who invited us in, and offered _maté_; but
as our object was to find some suitable shelter for the night, we did
not remain long, but pushed on towards the River Las Vacas. Darkness
coming on, we hurried to several mud huts that loomed up in the
distance. Upon arriving at them, we found a young gaucho, who led us
into a room where a powerful-built, supercilious-looking personage was
sitting. Glancing at us carelessly, he asked us several questions; but
being ignorant of the language, we could only make use of the “Spanish
Teacher” that my friend had brought with him: we could not discover
whether he understood our requests or desires. He treated us in a very
distant manner, calling a gaucho, and ordering us off to a low, mud
hut, where a woman was cooking a strip of meat by a small fire.

The interior of the hut was filthy in the extreme, the broken walls
covered with vermin, and the whole dwelling filled with blinding smoke.
Shortly after our entrance, several gauchos came in, and conversed
together in low tones.

After a few minutes they approached us, who were seated upon a log,
and addressed numerous inquiries to my companion. Ned, with the utmost
simplicity, opened his “Teacher,” and pointed out several sentences.
The fellows at first looked at the book, and turned over several
leaves with a puzzled air, then, breaking out in a loud laugh, threw
it back into his lap. Soon one dark-visaged gaucho drew his knife,
and commenced slashing it above the head of my companion, seeming
undecided, however, to strike him.

At this manifestation of mischief, our hands grasped our Colt’s
revolvers; and if the knife had touched either of our bodies, we should
have drawn our weapons and shot down our assailants. “If they strike
us, shoot all except the old hag, who can do nothing more than give the
alarm, and take to your heels,” muttered my companion.

We sat thus for half an hour, during which time the gauchos made
several attempts to strike at our legs, but did not succeed. They
were at length called away by the old woman, who offered them their
supper. We at last asked them by signs for a bed; they pointed to a
pile of dried skins that lay heaped up in one corner of the hut. At
this the indignation of my friend could hardly be kept within bounds.
Having been accustomed to all the comforts that the great metropolis
of our country could furnish, he determined no longer to suffer the
inhospitable treatment of gauchos. Telling me to follow him, he moved
towards the door of the shanty, which was nothing more than a large
hide, swinging to and fro in the entrance.

But the gauchos would not allow us to leave; and after a vain attempt
at arguing the matter, we were at last obliged to stretch ourselves
upon the hides, and lying side by side, kept watch in turn, with
pistols in hand, through the long and uncomfortable night. When I say
uncomfortable, I mean the whole strength of the word, for the hides
were alive with vermin, and their passage over our bodies and its
attendant irritation, half crazed us both. But the longest night has an
end. An hour before daylight the gauchos arose from the ground, which
had been their bed, and lassoing their horses in the corral, galloped
off to different parts of the _estancia_.

As soon as we saw that the disagreeable fellows were certainly gone,
we arose and hurried away from the hut. The woman followed, and begged
us to come back and eat meat; but we were only too willing to leave
without a breakfast. We learned, some days later, from an Englishman,
that the owner of this _estancia_, whose name was Moreno, belonged to a
family of the most villanous character.

During the revolutions, and while the country was in the midst of
civil war, an elder brother of this Moreno became a general, and
perpetrated the most horrid deeds of cruelty. With a band of _soldiers_
he traversed that portion of the country, cutting out the tongues of
hundreds of cattle, and leaving the animals to become the prey of the
wild beasts and birds. He visited a great number of _estancias_, and
slaughtering the owners, male and female, placed in their stead his own
submissive tools.

At the close of the war, justice cried out against him, and the villain
fled the country, leaving a part of his ill-gotten possessions in the
hands of his brother.

Four or live miles beyond Moreno’s, we passed a white-washed _casa_
(house) belonging to another man equally bad with our late host.

We now entered a thinly-wooded country, with thorn trees and cacti, in
which large flocks of _palomas_--a species of turtle dove resembling
our own species--were abundant. Just before reaching the River Las
Vacas we came upon a hut of cornstalks, out of which, to our surprise,
walked an unmistakable son of Erin. He commenced at once with, “Sure,
and is it yerselves that’s afoot? Where be your hosses? Walk into the
house and be seated.”

Hurrying into the house, he commenced an onslaught upon a lot of fowls
and two or three dogs, driving them out: we entered with him. He was a
perfect specimen of the “Irish-born citizen.” He had originally come to
the country as cook to an English bark. He had much to say about the
travels and dangers that he had gone through. Speaking of the conduct
of Great Britain in meddling with the affairs of the Banda Oriental, he
expressed his dissatisfaction in the most forcible language.

“The English and Frinch intervinshun,” said he, “kilt me, as it did
all the furriners. Before it I owned two thousand head of cattle and
hosses, and had plinty of land, and was comfortable. I had a wife,
though I didn’t have time to get married to the crathur; and lucky was
I that I hadn’t, for she run off wid me money and half of me property.
I hears that the Turks are fighting the queen, and are like to succeed.
God bless them if they do. I hope she may be taken.”

We left him as soon as possible, and pushed on to the River Las Vacas,
which we soon reached, and crossed in a boat. We remained two days in
the little town on its banks, during which time Ned made many inquiries
for certain localities, but without success. Finding that nothing
could be learned here, we hired horses, and set out on our return to
the San Juan River, following along the coast of the Plata. Every few
minutes would Ned halt and repeat the three Spanish words that he had
studied for many weeks, and could now pronounce correctly. Turning to
our guide, an old lame gaucho, he would say, half inquiringly, “_Los
Tres Hermanos?_” but at each time the old man shook his head.

At last we came upon a high bluff, and the gaucho, halting, pointed
with his finger to two small islands, green with heavy foliage that
fringed their shores, and exclaimed, “_Los Dos Hermanos!_” But those
were not the islands that Ned was seeking. “_Los Dos Hermanos_,” or
“The Two Brothers,” were islands of greater size than those which my
friend sought.

“_Los Tres Hermanos_” or “The _Three_ Brothers,” had been described to
him by the dying man as “three small pointed rocks;” but Ned could not
find these. He had consulted every chart that he could procure, but not
one had the three rocks upon it. Could it be that “The Two Brothers”
had been confounded with some other islets?

But I will not dwell upon our unsuccessful search. Suffice it to say
that we both returned to the Tigre in the same steamer that had brought
us across the Plata. I left Ned busily at work upon a small boat, in
which, when finished, he intended to cross the river, and, disguised as
a roving naturalist, to skirt along the river coast in search of “_Los
Tres Hermanos_.” When I parted from him, he said, gayly, “Good by,
my friend. You have yet to travel a long road before you reach North
America. I shall be there some months before you.”

After returning to the United States, I wrote to New York, as he had
requested; but some time elapsed before an answer came, and then my
worst fears were realized. Disappointed in his search for gold, he had
accepted the first offer for employment that presented itself, and had
become the mate of the little steamer that carried us across the river
when he first embarked in his romantic speculation.

During the passage of the steamer to the upper Paraná, he fell
overboard one night, and was carried into the rapids of the river and
drowned.

                              CHAPTER V.

                    ASCENDING THE PLATA AND PARANÁ.

From the River Tigre I proceeded on foot to Buenos Ayres. When within
a league or two of the city, I passed a fine _quinta_ inhabited by a
Scotchman, who had resided several years in the republic. Two Irishmen,
mounted high upon a cart, were driving through the gate, and one of
them, after scrutinizing my appearance, shouted to me, “Sure you’re an
Irishman--are ye not?”

I answered that I was a North American, and belonged in Boston; when
the other man inquired if I happened to be acquainted with a family
by the name of Kelley, adding that the head of said family was a half
brother to his wife.

I tried to show my questioner that Boston was a large place, with
inhabitants so numerous that I had not yet had the pleasure of the
acquaintance of his relatives; and, after giving the latest news of
the great metropolis, and what was transpiring when I left it, I
parted from the cartmen and pursued my journey, philosophizing on
the wonderful race of the Irish, and the fact that, no matter what
corner of the globe we may be in, we are certain to find this people
represented, sometimes by a great many individuals.

When I reached the city of Buenos Ayres, I learned that the boat was to
leave on the next morning; and, to prevent detention, the consul gave
me a note addressed to the captain of the port, who at once furnished
me with a passport. Persons about leaving the province are required to
advertise their intended departure during three successive days in one
of the three or four daily papers that are published in its principal
city. This regulation is designed to prevent the departure of debtors
for other “parts unknown,” without settling their accounts; but the law
is no less ineffectual than inconvenient, as it has been found utterly
impotent to accomplish the object for which it was designed. Before
sailing, I visited the bark, to bid adieu to the rough but honest
hearts that had been my associates during our long passage from Boston.
I was received with joyful demonstrations. I divided the contents of my
trunk among the sailors, and, after a pleasant chat with the mate, was
about to leave the vessel, when the “distinguished Irish barrister’s
son,” our cook, hinted that he had a word for my private ear. I
followed him to the galley; closing the doors, to keep out intruders,
he offered me a seat, and began the following conversation: “My dear
friend, do you ever partake of that which makes men’s sinews as strong
as iron bands? If so, here is the bottle just smuggled aboard by the
‘patron’ who brought you from the city. No! you won’t dhrink? I’m less
bashful. Here’s to a short parting, and may you not yield your heart,
as I once did mine, to any señorita on your journey.” Here he took a
good pull at the bottle, and continued: “What shall I do without you?
I’m puzzled to know, with no kindred intellect on board to cheer me
on the homeward passage. However, I have long intended to prepare a
work on the ‘Irish Karákter in America,’ that will occupy my mind, and
make the time pass less tediously. It will make at laste five volumes,
and I’m keeping a ‘dialogue’ (diary) for notes every day.” After he
had enlarged on, and explained the character of his embryo book, I
turned the subject by remarking that it seemed strange that a man of
his poetic nature had never been entangled in the bonds of love. “Ah,
now! ye’ve said it,” exclaimed the “doctor.” “I have passed through
that experience; but the cratur, woman, has been no blessing, as the
poets say, but a perfect bane, to my poor heart. It was woman who drove
me from my position in society to this galley.” Here the cook was
obliged to draw a pull of comfort from the bottle. “When I was only
sixteen years of age,” he continued, with a sigh,--whether of love or
in consequence of the strength of the liquor I was uncertain,--“my
father had a frind, who was also an Irish barrister; this gintleman had
a daughter like an angel. I was young and beardless, she a few years
older than meself. I became so deeply enamoured that I offered her me
hand and me hat (heart); at which she softly replied, ‘Mr. W., you
are too young.’ I, however, pressed me suit, for women want a deal of
coaxing; but she only smiled. At last, when I grew quite urgent,--for
an Irishman coorts in earnest,--she referred me for an answer to the
second of Samuel, tinth chapter, and the last part of the fifth verse.
I turned at once to it, for I thought that by it she meant to accept me
suit, and in a bashful way told me as she did; when what was my horror
and shame to read the following words: ‘Tarry at Jericho until your
beard be grown, and then return.’

“Would you believe it, my friend?--this little incident became known
to my acquaintances, and for shame I was forced to leave the country;
and for eleven years I never saw ould Ireland again.” I thought that,
considering his beardless condition, the Irish girl’s answer was quite
_Pat_ to the occasion. The rum was now deeply affecting my friend’s
intellect; and just as he was about to recite a “stanza,” I rose to
leave, saying that I could protract my stay no longer. Embracing me
affectionately, and repeating the lines about “tarrying in Jericho
until your beard be grown,” he bade me adieu; and the last I heard of
him was his singing at the top of his voice, “O, whiskey! whiskey is
the life of man! O, whiskey for me, Johnny!” Bidding farewell to the
rest of the crew, and refusing some pieces of silver which old Manuel
insisted upon forcing into my pockets as fast as I could take them out,
I went over the rail, and with the “patron” pushed off from the vessel
towards the city.

About noon on the following day, the Uruguay, in which I had taken
passage, weighed anchor, and commenced the ascent of the river against
a strong current which made the old boat tremble from stem to stern.
The passengers on board were a motley crowd--merchants, soldiers,
gauchos, and emigrants of every size and color. One hundred men, women,
and children from the Basque provinces were on their way to Paraguay.
Two hundred more were soon to follow in another party, they having
already arrived at Buenos Ayres. This immigration was the commencement
of a plan of President Lopez, who was encouraging French immigrants to
come, rightly believing that they would benefit his little republic.
Among the Basques whom I saw was the wife of Montez, the president’s
interpreter, on her return from a European tour. This lady, who acted
as matron for her countrywomen, spoke seven languages fluently. She was
enthusiastic regarding the prospects of the new colony.

Late in the afternoon we passed the islands of _Martin Garcias_ and
_Los Dos Hermanos_, and entered the beautiful Paraná, whose current is
more gentle than that of the Plata. The country by the river is flat,
until we near Rosario, where the banks come down to the water’s edge in
the form of sand hills. The undergrowth was thick in a few spots, which
served, a few years since, as hiding-places to the dreaded jaguar, an
animal which is, however, now seldom met with south of Santa Fé.

At noon on the 30th of March we dropped anchor before the town of El
Rosario (the Rosary), having been forty-eight hours in the trip. I
was paddled ashore from the steamboat by a native in a log canoe, and
succeeded in landing with dry feet. Luckily meeting an Englishman,
I was directed by him to the house of Mr. G., to whom I had letters
of introduction; and from him and his amiable wife, a native of the
country, I received every attention that even a long acquaintance would
have warranted.

Rosario, situated in latitude 23° 56′ south, longitude 60° 32′ west, is
about three hundred feet above the level of the sea. The town contains
seven or eight thousand inhabitants, the greatest portion of whom
have sprung from the Spanish and Indian stock; while the amalgamation
of races has introduced a great variety of shades of complexion, as
well as of character, among the population. The streets, like those of
Buenos Ayres, intersect each other at right angles. The sidewalks are
paved with a coarse-grained brick, about fourteen inches long by six
broad, and a little more than an inch in thickness.

Rosario has one church and two schools, of which one is a private
seminary, and the other supported by a public fund. There is also in
process of erection a small hospital, to contain two wards, one for
male and one for female patients. It was nearly finished at the time
of my visit, and would soon be ready to receive the poor invalids
of the vicinity. This hospital was erected, without assistance from
the authorities, by means of a subscription raised among the wealthy
citizens. The people of Rosario, unlike the inhabitants of most
Spanish-American towns, appear to take great pride in the advancement
of the place, which is beginning to rival Santa Fé, a large town to the
northward, which formerly monopolized the interior trade; but of late
years, in consequence of the energy of its merchants and its proximity
to Buenos Ayres, Rosario has diverted a huge portion of the business
from Santa Fé to herself, and continues to encourage it by proposing to
build a bridge seventy yards in length across a river that lies between
Cordova and Paraná. If this enterprise is not abandoned, it will
attract to Rosario many caravans which are accustomed to trade higher
up the river. The Sabbath prior to my departure had been appointed for
a meeting of the citizens to act regarding this matter.

A new line of diligences had been running for three months between
Rosario and Mendoza; they left monthly, while another line ran more
frequently to Cordova, a town in the interior.

Rosario supports a printing-office and a semi-weekly newspaper, that
promises soon to be issued daily. Sloops, schooners, and small brigs
are constantly arriving and departing; and with all these facilities
for business and travel, Rosario, in its present growing condition,
will shortly prove the most important town of the Paraná.

The police force is organized in the usual South American manner, and
consists of a few mounted _vigilantes_ armed with swords, and dressed
in peaked cloth caps, long red ponchos, and pantaloons, underneath
which the frills of the _calconcillas_ (gaucho drawers) may be seen.

Like physicians, they are allowed to gallop their horses in the
streets, while all others are prohibited, under penalty of a fine of
one dollar, from doing so. _Vigilantes_, when sent to arrest a person,
are usually accompanied by a higher officer, as they are an ignorant
body of men, and frequently not of the strictest integrity.

Although Rosario is the seaport, or commercial town, Paraná, is the
present capital of the Argentine Confederation. A national bank had,
not long before my arrival, been established by the confederacy, of
which the headquarters were fixed at Paraná, with branches in the
provinces; but before it had been six months in operation, the whole
affair exploded, as the confederate states, unlike Buenos Ayres,
have little or no revenue. The government had also appropriated sums
towards building a railroad from Cordova to Mendoza or Copiapo. Mr.
Allen Campbell, a well-known North American engineer, was engaged to
superintend the construction of the road; but, in view of the poverty
of the country, the dangers arising from civil wars, the paucity of
emigration to the interior, and the universal indolence of the natives,
it is hardly possible to predict for this undertaking any remarkable
success for many years to come.

                              CHAPTER VI.

                     A VISIT TO THE PAMPA COUNTRY.

While awaiting the expected departure of the carts for Mendoza, I
remained with my kind host and his amiable wife, the G.’s. During the
interim, I occupied myself in becoming acquainted with the habits of
the people. One morning, after I had been in Rosario for several days,
a North American--as we from the United States are called--drove into
my host’s _patio_, and announced that he had “come to see the young
chap from the north.” I introduced myself as the person in question,
when he cordially grasped both my hands, and said that he was glad to
meet an old friend again; he regarded all from his own country as such.
He informed me that he lived out on Don B.’s _estancia_, and, having
heard that a countryman was in town, he improved the first opportunity
of visiting him. Of course he had many inquiries to make concerning
news from home, which I answered as well as I could, and soon we were
friends.

This man’s career had been somewhat remarkable. A sailor first, then
variously employed, and now a “breaker in” of wild colts and mules,
he possessed the faculty of adapting himself to all circumstances
peculiar to the true North American. His experiences had been varied,
and he well illustrated in his career the truth of the old adage, “A
rolling stone gathers no moss.” He was thoroughly conversant with all
the peculiarities of pampa life; had observed well the habits of the
birds and animals that live on the plains; was an adept in throwing the
lasso, and mastering wild colts and horses.

“You are here after information, I guess?” interrogated my new friend.
“If so, come with me for a few days, and I will show you how to be a
gaucho. My shoulders are lame with being tossed in the saddle while
breaking colts; but the job is through with for a while, and I’d just
like to show you about.”

“But you have only one horse,” I replied. “Where can I find another?”

“Never mind,” responded Don Daniel, as my friend styled himself.
“Jest you mount him; I can get another: I’ve lots of friends around
the river, and any one will find me a hoss: if it comes to the wust
(worst), I can _find one_ myself.”

An extra blanket was furnished me from the house, and I placed myself
at the disposal of Don Daniel.

The little iron-gray stallion that was to carry me into a strange land
pawed and curvetted, and seemed anxious to be off. The _alforjas_, or
saddle-bags, had been well filled by my lovely hostess. Don Daniel’s
_chifles_, or water-vessels, consisted of two cow’s horns, one of which
he filled with water for his new _amigo_, Don Yankee; the other he
filled at a store with _aguardiente_ for himself.

“Don Yankee,” said he, as he busied himself about this important
matter, “you have come from Boston, the home of temperance doctrines:
stick to your colors, and don’t mistake this horn”--pointing to the
one filled with liquor--“for the one filled with water, as there will
not be more than enough for myself. I take it for my lame shoulders by
an internal application.”

“_Ejo mio, adios_” (God be with you, my son)! exclaimed the
kind-hearted señora. “Don’t fall into a _biscacha_ hole,” warned her
husband; and we were off.

Don Daniel bestrode a good-looking horse, that he had contrived _to
find_ somewhere. “Hurry!” said he, clapping spurs to his animal, as we
turned a corner. “If that lazy _porteño_ sees us, there will be no hoss
for Don Daniel.”

Although we were moving at quite a rapid pace, I remonstrated with my
companion against his using other people’s horses without their consent.

He only laughed, and said, “Poh! you are green, my boy. It is the
custom here. When the _porteño_ needs his hoss, he’ll take a friend’s
animal, as I have done. We are all friends in this country; and
I’ll send his hoss back before a week is out. Now, _caro mio_, push
yourself just a _leetle_ for’ard,--so,--that’s it; don’t ride, like
a pole,--so,--so: here comes a breeze; isn’t this jolly? Now I feel
that pain in my shoulder: a leetle rum won’t hurt it; you can try the
water-cure.”

And on we galloped over the smooth, grassy plains, while the sun,
resembling a huge red shield, sank before us into the grass.

The next day’s travel brought us to the very heart of the gaucho
dominion. As far as the vision extended, and still farther beyond,
a level plain, covered with grass, spread out, on which vast herds
of cattle, the wealth of the herdsmen, were feeding. On we rode, our
horses devouring space with almost untiring speed. Thus far during our
day’s ride we had not met with a single human being. Nothing possessing
life, except cattle and horses, had we seen. But at length we fell
in with a large herd; and attending them were two gauchos, sitting
on the ground, engrossed in a game of cards, their horses standing
beside them. As we approached, they respectfully touched their hats,
and wished us a “_buenas dias_” (good day). We inquired of them the
name of the owner of the neighboring herds, when they replied that we
were upon the _estancia_ of Don Carlos B., in whose service they were
employed as _peons_. We again put our horses to the gallop, and sped
on over the smooth turf. All day the same speed was kept up; for our
animals were true pampa steeds, and scorned a trot. Having traversed
many miles, we met with another herd of cattle, which, instead of
moving from us, as did the droves which we passed in the morning,
seemed differently minded. Two or three old bulls left their several
companies, and approached the spot where we drew up our horses. The
old fellows seemed very courageous, lowering their heads, and shaking
their long, shaggy locks, as if determined to contest our passage, or
protect their weaker companions, who were closely huddled behind those
pampa kings. We dismounted, and, leaving our horses, advanced towards
the bulls. But the moment we touched the ground the animals assumed
another character: as we advanced on foot towards them, they bellowed
loudly, and, turning, with their heads down and tails up, scampered off
as fast as fear could impel them, the ground trembling under the tread
of hundreds of heavy hoofs.

Daniel laughingly explained, while we were mounting our horses, that,
in those distant parts, cattle know man only when he is mounted upon
horseback, and that a gaucho on foot is so rarely beheld that he is
always mistaken for some unknown beast of prey.

As night came on, we dismounted, and, taking off the _recardo_, or
country saddle, spread it upon the grass for a bed; we then hobbled our
horses, and, after making a meal off a strip of roasted beef, lay down
to a night’s welcome sleep.

At dawn we were again in motion, and, after galloping a mile or two,
met a solitary gaucho, who was chasing a herd of cattle. On our
calling to him, he instantly wheeled his horse, and, on inquiry,
informed us--for your gaucho is a polite fellow--that we were upon the
_estancia_ of Don Carlos B.

“Don Carlos!” we exclaimed. “Why, we were upon his estate yesterday,
and have galloped many miles since then. Can it be that his _estancia_
is so large?”

“Yes,” answered the gaucho. “Don Carlos is the largest _estanciero_
within two hundred miles.”

“How large is his farm, then?” I asked.

The gaucho confessed that he was ignorant, and neither did his master
know; for many years before a _pampero_, or hurricane, carried away
the boundary stakes.[1] And even his estate is small beside that of
Candioti, the once great pampa lord, who possessed upwards of two
hundred square leagues of territory, and was owner of nearly a million
head of cattle, besides hundreds of thousands of horses and mules.
Candioti lived in Santa Fé, and once had not a _real_ of his own; but
before he died he sent annually to Peru many thousands of mules, and
a hundred heavily-laden wagons of merchandise. Since his death, his
estate has been divided among his large family of illegitimate children.

As we continued to draw the gaucho out, he warmed up with his subject,
and enthusiastically praised his master, Don Carlos. He dwelt with
especial pride upon his great prowess; told us how he twice inflicted
deep wounds upon the body of Don Vicente Moreno, the famous fighter,
on the last feast day. He informed us that his great man, “Don Carlos,
can catch a shaven and greased pig by the tail, and shoulder it; can
ride the wildest bull upon the pampas, until, worn down by fatigue, it
allows the don to lead it to the corral.” In fine, so many and varied
were this gentleman’s accomplishments, that we wondered that we had not
heard of him before.

From what we heard of Don Carlos, we imagined him to be a mighty
personage; or at least I did, and Don Daniel pretended to, and believed
his dwelling to be almost a palace, judging by his immense wealth,
of which we had had abundant proofs in our long ride. Seeing that we
were struck with the gaucho’s enthusiasm, he offered to lead us to
the presence of his master, which offer we accepted. Galloping across
the pampa, we at last discovered a small object, like a speck in the
distance, which the herdsman pronounced to be the residence of his
master.

As we drew near the house, my previous fine notions received a severe
shock; for, instead of an elegant mansion, with verandas and towers,
we found a hut of stakes, cornstalks, and mud. Two or three holes
knocked through its sides served as windows and ventilators. A few
peach-trees grew behind the building; but they were not planted to
supply the family with fruit, but served for fuel for the _estanciero_;
few trees grow on these plains save those planted for firewood.

Don Carlos came out of his mansion; for the barking of no less than
twenty dogs had heralded our approach, long before we reached the door.
Dismounting from our horses, we repeated a solemn Ave Maria, to which
the don made some appropriate reply, and then invited us within doors,
and introduced us to a dark-complexioned woman, whom he called Doña
Maria, his wife.

_Maté yerba_, the South American tea, was brought out, and served by
the lady herself, who, in preparing it, reclined on the ground in a
position far from graceful. A kettle, one or two tawdry North American
chairs, and an old table, seemed to form the only furniture of the
household. Our attention was attracted by several crania of oxen that
lay scattered about the hut, and, thinking that they might have been
kept as relics of departed favorites, I asked no questions; but I
learned afterwards that the skulls were pampa chairs, and were used as
such by the natives.

The don was a small, dark-complexioned man, with black, restless eyes,
that were constantly scanning surrounding objects. His father was a
Spaniard, his mother an Indian woman. Although he was forty years old,
he had visited the capital but half a dozen times. When he was absent,
he said, his mind wandered back to his _estancia_, and he was not
satisfied until he was again among his herds. Though hospitable in
his manner, he was a misanthrope, and placed but little confidence in
mankind.

When we informed our entertainers that we had come from North America,
we were beset with numerous questions. “Where is North America?” “Can
a man travel there on horseback in two months?” “Is it situated in
England or France?” “Is your moon like ours?” “What food do your people
eat?” and such other queries were made.

We found that the don’s family was composed of several sons and one or
two daughters; but no two of the children were of the same complexion.
I wondered at this, as I was ignorant of the fact that our host was a
polygamist; and though Doña Maria acted as his present wife, and as
mother to children not her own, she never murmured, for her husband was
her lord and master.

All these sons were treated alike, and lived together in perfect
contentment, while some of the degraded beings who bore them acted
as cooks and servants to the household. A little corn was boiled and
eaten with meat, without salt; and after reverently crossing themselves
before the crucifix, which occupied a corner, the family betook
themselves to their saddle-cloths--for it was now night--to rest.

The morning dawned beautifully upon us. As the heavy mist rolled off
the pampas, we beheld the gauchos departing in various directions to
their respective herds, for it was their duty to prevent the animals
from straying off the _estancia_; and though thousands upon thousands
of cattle bear upon their hides the brand of the proprietor, it is
rarely that one is lost. Each gaucho can recognize every animal that
belongs to his particular herd, let the number be hundreds.

The gauchos returned to breakfast at about eleven o clock, and while
they were eating their beef and taking _maté_, I took a walk into the
vicinity of our host’s dwelling. Close at hand were two or three large
staked enclosures called corrals, into which the horses used by the
family were driven nightly for convenience’ sake. At the time of my
visit, all the animals save one had been turned out to graze; this one
remained, as is customary, tied to a stake throughout the day, to be
in readiness for any emergency. The poor fellow stands all day without
eating a mouthful of food. He could not eat grain, having learned to
eat nothing but grass; and as hay was an unknown luxury on the pampa,
he was obliged to wait until night came for his food.

As I wandered about the place, my attention was drawn to the little
parties of animals grazing around me. The oxen were very large, and
would compare most favorably with the finest in North America. The cows
so resembled the oxen in roughness of form and size of limb, that I at
once pronounced them inferior to our own in beauty. Out of thousands of
cows upon the _estancia_, only three were milked, and these but once a
day. These cows, more civilized than their relatives upon the plains,
yield only five or six quarts of milk daily, and I wondered at their
barrenness, but was afterwards informed by the _estanciero_ that they
gave him all the milk he wanted for cheese, and, therefore, he need not
care to improve the stock.

The size of the horses I noticed to be, on the average, smaller than
that of our own animals, though there were many noble specimens, both
of size and beauty, feeding on the plains. These large horses are
generally selected to sell to Chilians; for the people of Chili prefer
large animals, and even _trot_ their horses in some of the cities.

The pampa horses never feel the brush or comb; their coats are rough,
and, instead of heavy manes and flowing tails, they can boast of
little in either. In one thing they can claim superiority over our own
most valuable animals: a pampa horse can gallop a whole day with a
man upon its back, and can endure privations that would soon kill our
stable-reared pets.

When I returned to the hut, I informed our host that in my country
animals are habitually kept housed, in better buildings, in many
instances, than his own residence; and, moreover, in place of allowing
them to dwindle to mere skeletons, by living upon dead grass in the
winter time, as many of his horses did, they are fed upon an article
called hay,--prepared grass,--and grow fat and sleek on grain.

“What!” exclaimed Don Carlos, “horses in houses! Who ever heard of such
a thing?” And the look he gave implied that his private opinion was
that North Americans are greater fools than he took them to be.

It was useless to argue the great value of our horses in comparison