[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
with his; he could not believe that a horse ever was worth two hundred
dollars; he had twenty thousand, which he valued at four dollars each,
and forty thousand horned cattle, that he estimated at eight dollars
per head.

I would here remark that the same kind of cattle could have been bought
ten years since for half the price he estimated his worth; but now the
herdsman had discovered that by slaughtering animals for their hides
thousands have been wasted, and now the demand far exceeds the supply,
and the price of raw hides can never be cheaper than it is at present.

Don Carlos, unlike the farmers of the Banda Oriental, did not believe
in sheep grazing; therefore he never permitted his flocks to increase
beyond fifteen thousand. An offer of fifty cents a head would have been
immediately accepted, and when he received the money, he would have
placed it in a goat-skin, with others of his treasures, and buried it
in the ground.

I had noticed in one of the corrals some curious cattle, of a breed
unknown to me; on inquiry I learned that they were of the _Niata_
breed, which originated among the Indians of the southern pampas, and
was once more numerous than the kind now common. This breed is seldom
met with at present, and Don Carlos had secured these in his corral
by order of a foreigner in Buenos Ayres, who intended sending them to
Paris. These animals have low, heavy foreheads, the lower part being
recurved. The teeth project from the mouth, the lips being short and
incapable of being closed; in fact, they bear resemblance to pug-nosed
dogs. This has the effect of giving them a fierce and terrible look.
Our host remembered the time when a severe drought prevented the usual
growth of grass, and dried it up; but while other cattle lived through
the season, many of the _Niata_ breed were found dead upon the plains,
because, on account of the peculiar formation of their jaws and lips,
they could not lay hold of the grass.

Each of the _estanciero’s_ daughters had a pet ostrich, the two being
representatives of both of the South American species. One of these was
about as tall as an average-sized man, the other of the two species
about two thirds as tall. The first-mentioned one was caught when young
within two miles of the house, and its species is quite common on the
pampas; the smaller variety, known to the gauchos as the _Avestruz
teteze_, was brought from Patagonia, south of the River Negro, by
one of General Rosas’s old soldiers. Neither of these varieties can
compare with the great African bird, their feathers being destitute
of that beauty and delicacy which has made the last-named bird famous
in all countries. In fact, the South American ostriches are properly
cassowaries, a three-toed species; the African has but two toes, and
is, besides, nearly twice the size of the others.

As there have been many conflicting and incorrect accounts published
concerning these birds, I will here give the most interesting, and I
believe correct, information that I have been able to gather.

The male bird prepares the nest, and is obliged sometimes to gather the
eggs into it, the female often being careless as to where she deposits
them. I have been told that the male will attack man if the nest is
disturbed, leaping up and attempting to strike him with his feet.

When pursued, the ostrich readily takes to the water, swimming slowly
but fearlessly; it has been observed migrating from island to island,
swimming apparently without great effort.

The food of these birds consists of grasses, various roots, and the
sweet pod of the _algaroba_ tree, with which they swallow stones,
shells, and other hard substances, to assist in digestion.

In the spring months--in south latitude, September, October, and
November--the male selects his wives, from three to eight in number,
and assumes full control of their movements, fighting off any bachelor
bird that may attempt to carry on a flirtation with any of his family.
Some gauchos assert that the whole family of hens deposit their eggs in
one nest or its vicinity. In such cases the eggs number from eighteen
to fifty. It would seem that so large a number it would be difficult
to cover; but ostrich eggs seem to suffer but little by neglect during
incubation.

A gentleman who travelled as far south as the Rio Negro states that
some eggs are allowed to remain outside the nest, and these are broken
by the parent, when the young in the others are hatched, to attract the
flies upon which the chicks feed during the first few days of their
lives.

Fleet of foot, possessed of great endurance, the ostrich is captured
only by the continued efforts of several horsemen, who either drive
it in circles or give it direct chase, each horse when tired being
relieved by a fresh animal and rider.

When the bird has become so exhausted that it can be approached within
forty or fifty yards, the _boliadores_--three balls attached to cords
of equal lengths, which are fastened to one thong--are whirled around
above the head of the gaucho, until they have attained a proper
impetus, and launched at the bird, whose legs become entangled, and he
falls an easy prey.

The male bird is easily distinguished from the female by his larger
head, and the darker color of his plumage. The gauchos sometimes kill
them for food, eating the wings and feet only.

I had heard of the method by which wild colts are rendered submissive,
and requested Don Carlos to permit me to witness the operation. The
gauchos had finished their meal, and as they were about to depart
for the pampas, we saddled our horses, and, mounting, were ready to
accompany them. On the fellows galloped like the wind, swinging the
ends of their bridles over their heads, and shouting boisterously to
each other. Three miles were quickly passed over, and we drew up before
a herd of several hundred animals, nearly all of which were mothers
with their foals. A beautiful young mare attracted my attention, and I
must confess I wished to possess her. I desired the don to select her
for the one to undergo the breaking-in process. I saw at once that I
had made a _faux pas_, for all the gauchos burst into a loud laugh, and
declared that “North Americans must be queer people. Who ever heard
of training a _mare_ to the saddle?” “Why!” exclaimed another, with
a contemptuous curl of his lip, “do you work mares in your country?
Why, man, I would as soon think of putting a saddle upon my poor old
mother’s back, and forcing a bridle into her mouth, as of breaking in a
_mare_! The people of North America are savages!”

Mares are respected in the country of the herdsman, and it is
considered an ungrateful and indecent act to require labor of the
mothers of horses.

Seeing that, through ignorance, I had lowered myself in the opinion
of the pampa lord and his followers, I concluded to hold my peace in
future, and await events without trying to shape them. At last Don
Carlos selected a fine young horse, and pointed it out to one of his
men as a fit subject for his skill.

The gaucho loosened the lasso from behind him, and made the running
noose, which is held in one hand, while in the other are grasped
several coils ready to run out at the proper moment. The victim was
separated from the drove, and the horse bestrode by the gaucho started
after it with the rapidity of the wind. The fugitive strained every
nerve to distance his pursuer; but as a trained horse, if mounted by a
herdsman, can generally overtake a free one, however fleet he may be,
the lasso soon left the gaucho’s hand, his horse wheeled, and braced
his feet for a shock which in an instant occurred, the noose settling
over the head of the victim, and checking him in his flight so suddenly
that he fell in a somerset upon his back.

At first the colt was stunned by the fall; but, recovering, he arose to
his feet, and began pulling upon the lasso until his eyes seemed as if
about to start from their sockets. A second gaucho now galloped to the
assistance of his friend, and, skilfully throwing his lasso around the
hind legs of the victim, started away in another direction, by which
movement the colt was thrown to the ground, and his hind legs stretched
out to their full length. The feet were now tied together with a strip
of hide, the lassoes were removed, and the poor animal was helpless on
the ground, and panting with fear.

But the real work of breaking him in was yet to be done. A saddle was
placed upon his back, and a piece of lasso thrust into his mouth to
serve as a bridle; the bonds on his feet were then loosened enough to
permit him to rise to his feet, and two men held him by the ears, while
his eyes were being covered with a poncho. The question, “Who is to
ride him?” was hardly asked before each gaucho asserted his right to a
seat upon his back.

The youngest son of the _estanciero_ was selected to prove his
horsemanship to the North Americans. He jumped into the saddle with a
determination to conquer, and shouting, “Let go!” drove his sharp iron
spurs into the animal’s flanks. The colt did not move a muscle, but
seemed overwhelmed with astonishment and fear.

Another application of the spurs seemed to recall him to his senses. He
backed slowly, and then plunged forward with astonishing force, rose
upon his hind legs, and then fell to the ground, turning and twisting
his body in every conceivable contortion, but to no purpose; his future
master was upon him, and it was useless attempting to unseat him. The
beast now attempted a new course; he dashed forward in a gallop across
the plains, moving with a speed that only fear and rage could give him.
We followed as fast as our horses could travel; but he distanced us,
until, stopping suddenly, he plunged, reared, kicked, and pranced in
his efforts to unseat his rider; but at every movement, the steel spurs
of the gaucho stung him on the flanks. An hour passed, but the colt was
untamed, and he now attempted another plan for procuring his freedom.
Bending his neck until his nose touched the ground, and throwing his
legs together, he jumped into the air, throwing his rider at each jump
nearly two feet above his saddle.

“Now comes the _vuelto malo_” (bad turn), shouted Don Carlos;
“look, _hijo mio_!” The colt’s nose again touched the ground; he
then attempted to throw a summersault; he almost succeeded; if he
had, he would have crushed the boy; but the rider watched the right
opportunity, and adjusted the position and weight of his body, so that
the horse was forced to settle upon his feet, when he again broke into
a gallop; but his step was feeble, and his strength gone, and he would
fain lie upon the grass if his terrible persecutor would permit.

His great exertions at length overpowered him, and, conquered, he
allowed the gaucho to dismount, and place a halter over his head.
What a change had come over the animal that two hours before was
galloping over the plains with the freedom of the winds! He stood
perfectly still, his eyes closed; his flanks were covered with sweat,
which rolled off his body in large drops; blood oozed from the wounds
inflicted by the spur, and trickled down his limbs; the nostrils were
dilated, and blood was seen about the nose and mouth; every vein stood
prominent upon his swollen body, and his whole appearance was that of
intense suffering and fear.

“What a cruel system!” I involuntarily exclaimed. “How the poor animal
has suffered!”

The gaucho again laughed, and answered, “Why do you pity him? he is
worth but three dollars. There are plenty more better than this one.”

[Illustration: GAUCHO THROWING THE BOLIADORES.]

The young conqueror of eighteen led home his prize, and placed it
in the corral, where it lay for several days, unable to stand, eat, or
sleep. Such is the course of training, or breaking in, of wild colts.
At the expiration of ten days after the first lesson the animal is
again ridden, and a third lesson completely breaks him, when he is
increased fifty cents in value, which sum is paid the gaucho for his
trouble, and the pains he has to endure from the conflict.[2] Of course
the colt’s mouth is too tender to bear the hard iron bit for many days.

After we returned to the house, the gauchos, to further show their
prowess and accomplishments, prepared for some of their favorite games.
First came the trial of “breasting horses.”

Two gauchos mounted their steeds, and, after receiving and answering
the proper challenge, separated, taking stands about forty rods apart.
At a given signal, they spurred their horses, and, as if bent on
destroying each other, rushed with the greatest force their steeds
together, breast to breast. So great was the concussion, that the
riders were forced from the animals’ backs, and tumbled, half stunned,
to the ground. But they quickly recovered; and, as both were anxious
for a second trial, they mounted again and dashed together, this time
only one being unseated, but he was so lame that he declined a third
trial.

Next came the trial of crowding horses.

Two mounted gauchos placed their beasts side by side, and, spurring the
animals on the flanks, each struggled to crowd the other. The horses
seemed to share their riders’ spirits, and at last one little beast
crowded his opponent up to the door of the cook-house, and finally
through it. This was followed by another game.

A bar was placed across the corral entrance, at about the height of the
horse’s head. A gaucho mounted, and then retired several rods from the
corral, when he turned, and galloped towards the gate, and, without
checking his speed, threw himself out of the saddle, and, passing with
the horse under the bar, regained his seat, without having left the
animal or touched the ground. Loud applause followed the achievement,
and others followed in the game, all with good success.

As I had seen, in the early part of the day, the skill with which the
gaucho can throw the lasso, Don Carlos expressed the desire to show his
skill with the _boliadores_. Mounting his horse, and removing the three
balls which were fastened to the peak of his saddle, he gave chase to a
cow, and, when within thirty or forty yards of her, whirled the balls
around his head with great force, and cast them towards her. Away they
flew through the air like chain-shot, and, fastening themselves about
the hind legs of the fugitive, tumbled her to the ground in an instant.

The three _boliadores_ are made of round stones, enclosed in hide
covers; they are attached to the lasso by long sinews of animals.
Wooden balls are used when it is feared that stone _boliadores_ might
break the legs of the animal or bird to be captured.

_Estancia_ life has a degree of loneliness and quiet that would be
unbearable to any one but those who have been reared in it, or have
lived in places similar in character to the surrounding country.

On the _estancia_ lives the proprietor and his family, alone in the
solitude of the plains. Around them is one continual monotony, with no
moving thing, as far as the eye can reach, save the herds that graze in
the vicinity of the house. Day after day the same routine is followed,
until, from very habit, it becomes a second nature. The young herdsman
has the few characters around him to imitate; and as he sees but little
of the outside world,--and then only when some _dia de fieste_ attracts
him to the nearest village,--he grows up an exact copy of his father;
so far as character and general mental qualities go, a veritable “chip
of the old block.” Therefore, when we take into consideration the
isolated life of the gauchos, we should willingly pardon some of their
many failings.

The gauchos of the towns give no more correct idea of their pampa
brethren than do the domesticated Indians of our western country of the
savage tribes of the prairies and forests before the arrival of the
pilgrims. It is only away upon the vast plains that the gaucho is found
in the same half-civilized state that he was in fifty years ago.

A distinguished Argentine statesman and author, wishing to fairly
civilize the gauchos, formed a society for the purpose, to which
many of the leading _estancieros_ of the province of Buenos Ayres
lent their influence. It was the object of the society, first, to
persuade the herdsmen to eschew all gewgaws, such as silver mountings
for their horses, trinkets, the peculiar costume of the pampas, the
poncho, chiropa, frilled drawers, wide belt, and colt-skin boots. After
they had effected their first object, and dressed the fellows in
pantaloons, coat, and boots, they intended to offer them the means of
education and enlightenment, by means of teachers, books, &c. The plan
has not been carried out, and, according to the last accounts from the
country, it had not met with any real encouragement. The gaucho will
still be a gaucho, in spite of all the efforts of philanthropists to
educate him.

The character of the gaucho is a curious combination of deceit,
superstition, and hospitality, the latter not real, but only assumed,
with the expectation of gain or reward. Though they show aversion to
manual labor, and are generally proud-spirited (particularly in the
provinces of Buenos Ayres and Cordova), they are easily amused; the
guitar and mazes of the dance possess strong attractions for them,
and they will enter into _la zamba cueca_ with a wonderful degree of
interest.

The gauchos exhibit a combination of the customs of other countries.
They use the lasso after the manner of the Mexican _vaquero_. Miers
shows that their habit of cooking meat upon a stick or iron spit
(_asador_) came from the Moors, through Spain. They have borrowed
several of their customs from the aboriginal inhabitants,--the use of
the yerba, sucking it through a tube from the gourd, the _maté_, also
that formidable weapon, the _boliadores_, and the lariat, or lasso,
which is used by the pampa tribes and Patagonians.

The _estancia_ life is best fitted to develop the true gaucho
character; there is a freedom of feeling experienced in coursing over
the boundless plains that is peculiarly agreeable to him.

A little sketch of _estancia_ life will, perhaps, not prove
uninteresting to the reader.

First, regarding the right of possession and equality of standing of
the members of the family relative to the property upon which they live.

The _estancia_ is generally left by will to the wife and children, the
wife one third, the boys and girls equal shares. Sometimes she who has
been called wife, is not legally entitled to the name; but this matters
little; she had the right of the property while her spouse lived, and
the same rule follows after death, unless specially mentioned in the
last will and testament, by her lord, to the contrary. The members of
the family rarely divide the property, but live together as before
the head of the family died, each member consulting the others before
making any sales of stock, &c.

The peons, or laborers, that live upon the _estancia_, rise half an
hour before sunrise, take a _maté_ without sugar (unless the proprietor
is unusually considerate), and at sunrise select the horses from the
drove in the corral. A portion of the number mount, and gallop off
to their respective herds, to select a new pasturage ground, and to
prevent them from straying away.

The remaining peons select the half-broken colts, and, after tying them
to stout stakes, entangle the animals with coils of the lasso, tripping
them off their feet, and rolling them on the ground. This is to teach
the young horse to be gentle under difficulties, or, in other words,
not to prance and kick when anything touches the heels.

At about eight or nine o’clock the peons return, and report to the
_capataz_ (foreman), or to the _estanciero_ himself, the condition
of the animals under their respective supervisions. The daily ration
is then given them, which they cook and eat. Perhaps a colt or mule
is to be ridden for the first time; if so, this exercise follows
their breakfast. At noon the peons return to the little shanties that
surround the dwelling of their master, and, after taking a few _matés_,
and perhaps another _asado_, they stretch themselves upon the ground to
enjoy the siesta hour, which, however, often becomes hours in length.

The last departure to the plains occurs about three o’clock, and all
the men return about dusk; they sup on the simple roast, drink a few
_matés_, then roll themselves up in their ponchos, and sleep soundly,
with only a skin or hide beneath them, until, from habit, they awake at
the usual hour, and commence the duties of another day.

The Sabbaths and feast days are strictly kept by the gauchos in their
own peculiar way. They consider it wrong to work on these days, and
when they do, a fine is imposed upon the offenders. But it is perfectly
allowable for men and women to dance, gamble, and fight upon a feast
day. If the traveller is by any chance in one of the small mud towns in
the pampa country, he will see gauchos gallop up into the place from
_estancias_ ten, fifteen, and even twenty leagues distant.

They pass the day in testing horsemanship, stealing, pitting
fighting-cocks, confessing sins to the padres, and not unfrequently the
_grand finale_ is a general _mélée_, from which few escape without a
wound. On such occasions, he who can particularly distinguish himself
as a _diablo_, is generally treated by the crowd, who ply him with
_aguardiente_, and other liquors, until he sometimes mistakes friends
for foes. A fine of twenty dollars was once imposed on Sabbath and
feast-day breakers,--those who were caught at work.

As the priests had many saints to distinguish by honoring them with
particular days, the list received continual acquisitions. St. John’s
day, St. Paul’s day, Saint this one, and Saint that, cheated the
laboring classes of the towns out of a living; for all these days were
better adapted for losing money than for acquiring it. But General
Rosas cut down the long list of holidays to the number now observed,
which is more than large enough for a fair share of frolic and piety.

When dressed in full regalia, the herdsman’s appearance is very
picturesque: in place of pantaloons he wears a _chiropá_ and
_calconcillas_. The former is a square piece of cloth drawn about
the thighs, and fastened around the waist with a belt; it descends
as far as the knees, from which downward the leg is covered with the
_calconcillas_, a wide pair of linen or cotton drawers, finely worked,
and ornamented with two or three frills. The feet are encased in a
pair of _botas de potro_, being the skin stripped from the leg of a
colt, and rubbed until it has become soft and pliable. The heels are
decorated with a pair of iron or silver spurs, of huge proportions,
that rattle and jingle as the gaucho moves about. A shirt, poncho, and
hat complete the costume.

For ornament and use, the gaucho carries a long knife, placed crosswise
in his belt behind. The hilt is very broad, and contains pockets to
hold tobacco, flint and steel, and horn of tinder; the outside of the
_tirador_, as the belt is called, is covered with silver and base
dollars, that are the gaucho’s pride.

Upon a feast day the fellow decks out his horse with silver ornaments,
and rides forth to see and to be seen. Not unfrequently his wife rides
behind him, seated upon a poncho laid upon the horse’s croup; but she
is inferior to his horse in the estimation of the rider, upon which
animal is lavished almost all the wealth (if he is poor) of the owner.

We passed a most pleasant day with Don Carlos, and when we retired to
our couches we felt that the visit had been well worth the time it had
cost.

On the next morning, as soon as etiquette would permit, we bade adieu
to our host and his family, and, mounting our horses, commenced our
long ride back to Rosario.

Nothing occurred of importance, or that would interest the reader, and
the next day we were welcomed cordially by the G.’s, my friends at
Rosario.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] General Rosas, late president of the Argentine Republic, owned an
_estancia_, south of Buenos Ayres, that contained seventy-four square
leagues.--Darwin’s _Voyage_.

[2] In conversation with many gauchos who break in colts for the
_estancieros_, I have been informed this is the price paid them for
their labor, and in hard times even a less sum is paid. This was in the
far interior of the pampa provinces.--_Author._




                             CHAPTER VII.

                          LIFE ON THE PAMPAS.


At sunrise on the day but one following that mentioned at the close of
the preceding chapter, I left the house of my hospitable friend, after
bidding farewell to my amiable hostess, and proceeded with Mr. G. to a
plaza on the outskirts of the town, from whence all troops of carts or
mules take their departure for the interior provinces of the country.

We entered the square in time to find Don José Leon Perera, the
_patron_ or owner of the caravan, who was reclining upon a skin beneath
the cart that contained his personal property, enjoying his cigarito,
and finishing his fifth _maté_. This gentleman received his visitors
with a pompous wave of the hand, and requested us to be seated,
pointing at the same time to an old wheel lying not far off upon the
ground.

Some minutes having passed in exchanging compliments, after the manner
of the country, Mr. G. informed the _patron_ that he had with him a
young man who had come from _El Norte_ with the intention of crossing
the pampas, and that he proposed accompanying the caravan on foot;
moreover, as he was inexperienced, it would be necessary to place him
beneath his (Don José’s) protecting care. At mention of my crossing
the plains on foot, Don José, with a stare of astonishment, declared it
could not be done. To the second proposition--that of his assuming my
guardianship--he acquiesced, however, and mentioned upon what terms I
could accompany him. For the use of a horse (in case I should need an
animal), and a place in a cart for my baggage, seventeen dollars would
be required of me--a sum sufficient to have purchased two ordinary
horses, at the prices which they then were sold at.

Four dollars were demanded for the supply of meat, of which I was to
have an ample allowance; and besides this sum, a fee of one dollar was
to be given to a native--a fellow of villanous appearance--who was to
be my _compañero_ (companion) and cook. It was to be his particular
duty to see that his _protégé_ was well attended, well fed, and guarded
from all harm if the Indians should attack the caravan. Of course I
was to believe that great valor would be exhibited, and much blood be
spilled, by the brave individual who was to be my protector. My new
guardian and the other drivers of the carts differed widely from the
inhabitants of the pampa provinces. They belonged in the northern part
of the republic, in the distant province of Santiago, and spoke the
ancient language of their fathers,--the Quichua,--while the _patron_
and two or three natives of the lower states conversed in the Spanish
or common language of the country. Knowing that I should be unable to
converse with Don José or his peons while upon the journey, I made a
number of inquiries in relation to the manner of living, and what I
might expect on the trip, all of which, with the assistance of Mr. G.,
were comprehended by the natives, and I was answered that luxurious
living, sympathizing friends, and unalloyed enjoyment were to be the
accompaniments of my journey across the pampas. The anxiety that had
caused me many sleepless nights previous to the interview with the
_patron_ and his Indian peons now disappeared, and I looked forward to
opportunities for gleaning, in a rich field, a harvest of information
and valuable facts not yet familiar to my adventurous countrymen.

Matters having been settled by my paying Don José in advance the full
demands he made, Mr. G. took me aside, and prayed God speed me on my
way. “If you have money with you,” said he, “by no means let it be
seen, as these drivers do not bear a good name, and they would not
scruple to rob you should opportunity offer. The _patron_ I believe to
be honest, and while he is with the troop you have nothing to fear.” He
then bade me farewell, pressed my hand cordially, and we parted.

Towards noon about one hundred oxen were driven into the plaza, when
each peon, having received his allotted six, conducted them to his
cart. A piece of tough wood, six or seven feet in length, five inches
in width, and three in thickness, served as a yoke; it was laid on the
neck, just back of the animal’s horns, and lashed securely to them by
a long strip of raw hide, thus causing the whole strain to come upon
the head and neck, instead of upon the shoulders, as is customary with
cattle that are yoked as in the United States.

The carts were most cumbrous affairs, and in appearance were not unlike
a _rancho_, or native hut, set upon wheels. The body consisted of a
framework of sticks covered upon the sides and back with small reeds,
and roofed with cattle hides, which rendered them secure against the
heaviest rain. The carts, which probably exceeded twelve feet in
length, were only four feet wide, and, being mounted upon two wheels
of extraordinary diameter, were sufficiently novel and striking to my
uneducated eyes. The only iron used in their construction consisted of
a few scraps used to strengthen the nave of the wheel; all the other
parts were fastened together by bands of hide, and wooden pins. The
heavy tongue rested upon the yoke of the first pair of oxen, and from
it ran long ropes of hide, which connected with the yokes of the second
pair and leaders.

The method of driving the oxen practised by these people is most
barbarous. There projects, a few feet from the roof, running forward
of the cart, a portion of the ridge-pole, from which is suspended, by
a piece of lasso, a becket that swings to and fro with the motion of
the cart. This becket supports a heavy cane, nearly thirty feet in
length, having at the end a sharp iron nail that serves to quicken
the movements of the leaders; above the second pair is another goad,
differing from the first by projecting from a wooden cone that hangs
beneath the cane-pole.

This instrument is called the _picano grande_, and it requires a
skilful hand in its guidance, in consequence of its weight and the
constant oscillatory motion when the wagon is moving. The driver holds
one end in his right hand, and, by constant thrusts, drives it into
the animals without mercy. By lifting the end of the _picano_, the
part outside the becket is lowered, and the perpendicular goad touches
the backs of the second pair, while in his left hand the driver holds
the _picano chico_ (little goad), and spurs the tongue oxen, or those
nearest the wagon, upon which the severest labor falls. The principle
upon which the cattle are guided is also peculiar. If the driver wishes
the ox to turn to the left, the goad is applied to that side, and the
animal follows the direction _pricked_ upon him; if to the right, the
_picano_ is applied to that side, with a similar result. I have seen
the unfortunate beasts goaded until the blood trickled from their
wounds; but still they followed the instrument, upon whichever side
they felt its sharp sting. With small carts, having but one pair of
oxen, the driver sits upon the yoke and tongue of the vehicle, _picano_
in hand, with his legs coiled beneath him _à la Turque_.

Everything was in readiness for the journey, but the butcher had not
arrived with the meat for provisions, a delay at which the _patron_
gave vent to many a _carramba_ of impatience. Shortly, however, a
little, ricketty, two-wheeled cart, lashed together with strips of
hide, was driven into the plaza, and its owner distributed the expected
meat among the different carts. While he was thus employed, some women,
carrying a little tinsel-covered _Santa_, passed around the caravan,
and each peon devoutly kissed the garments of the image, to insure, as
I supposed, a prosperous journey.

At last the caravan commenced its march, and we bade farewell to
Rosario and to civilization, Don José the _patron_ and Don Manuel the
_capataz_ leading the caravan, on horseback.

First following them were, creaking loudly, fourteen clumsy carts
loaded with _yerba_, sugar, iron, and other merchandise. Next came
fifteen or twenty spare oxen, as many horses, with about a dozen mules,
driven by an old guide, two youngsters, and the carpenter of the troop,
who also acted as assistant _capataz_. I walked in advance of the
_patron_, though he advised me to enter the cart, as walking, he said,
was injurious to the system.

Our course lay over a level country covered with fine grass, which,
having been pastured by cattle, was very short. After journeying four
miles, we came to a halt; the oxen were unlashed, and allowed to feed
by the roadside, while the men kindled a fire of thistles, roasted a
strip of meat, and took their gourds of Paraguay tea.

The manner of cooking meat on the pampas is worth a moment’s attention.
After an animal has been killed, the meat is cut into pieces, without
any regard to anatomy, or to the butcher’s “regular cuts,” and an iron
spit called the _asador_ is run longitudinally through each strip.
The _asador_ is stuck into the ground close by the fire, and, being
carefully watched, the steak is gradually cooked in a manner that would
gain no discredit in a well-regulated kitchen. The result of this
method of cooking is that none of the juices of the meat are lost.

When our _asados_ were sufficiently roasted, the chief took them from
the fire, and, driving the point of the spit into the ground, invited
me, with a profound salaam, to commence my repast. Cutting a small
piece from the roasted strip, and taking it upon the point of my
knife, I put it, as a matter of course, into my mouth. At this the
group around me broke into a boisterous laugh, and one swarthy fellow
volunteered his services in teaching me how to eat _à la gaucho_.
Drawing from his belt that inseparable companion which the gaucho never
parts with--a long knife--the fellow cut off a strip of meat, and,
holding one end with his fingers, dropped the other into his mouth;
then followed a quick upward stroke with the knife, so close to his
lips that I involuntarily started, severing the meat, and leaving a
huge piece between his teeth. This feat was accomplished so rapidly
that it astonished me; but as I found that it was the universal custom
among the peons, I attempted to imitate them. But on the first trial
the blade of my knife came in contact with the end of my nose, cutting
it enough to draw blood. At this a loud laugh went through the group,
at the expense of “Bostron the gringo,” which name they insisted upon
calling me, notwithstanding my efforts to show that Boston, and not
Bostron, was my native city.

After the usual _siesta_, we continued our journey. Nothing of
importance occurred until sunset, when, as I glanced across the
plain, it seemed to at once become endowed with life. As the sun
sank below the horizon, the owners of innumerable little burrows,
which I had noticed through the greater part of the afternoon all
over the plains, came out of the holes in such numbers as to astonish
the uninitiated. As I watched one of the holes, I saw first a little
round head, enlivened by a pair of black, twinkling eyes, peeping out;
then followed a dusky body, and, finally, the animal, having become
satisfied that our intentions were not unfriendly, sat by his doorway
with the greatest nonchalance imaginable; but in a moment, after
observing us curiously, he scampered off to join the hundreds, if not
thousands, that were playing about in the grass around us.

Sometimes we saw an old female trotting along with four or five young
ones on a visit to a neighbor; and frequently we saw some of these
_reunions_, in which, while the old people were exchanging compliments,
the juvenile members of the family chased each other merrily about the
mounds.

These animals, which bore some resemblance to the marmots, were
called by the natives _bizcacha_. The species is the _Lagostomas
trichodactylus_ of naturalists. Its habits are similar to those of the
proper marmots; in size it exceeds the opossum of North America.

About the entrance of the burrows I noticed that a quantity of rubbish
is usually collected, such as the bones of deceased relatives and of
other animals, mixed with thistles, roots, &c. These _bizcachas_ are
found all over the pampas, as far south as the confines of Patagonia,
beyond which, however, they have never been observed.

The singular habit of collecting all compact substances about their
burrows seems peculiar to these animals. A traveller’s watch, which had
been lost, was found at the entrance to one of their domiciles, the
animals having dragged it from the camp near by.

Darwin says the _bizcacha_ is found as far north as 30° south latitude,
and “abounds even to Mendoza, and is there replaced by an Alpine
species.”

It is not an inhabitant of the Banda Oriental, east of the Uruguay
River.

The following accounts of North American species will be interesting
to the reader, since they give a good idea of the habits of nearly
allied species. Audubon and Bachman, in their Quadrupeds of North
America, say of the prairie dog, “This noisy spermophile, or marmot,
is found in numbers, sometimes hundreds, of families together, living
in burrows on the prairies; and their galleries are so extensive as to
render riding among them quite unsafe in many places. Their habitations
are generally called dog towns, or villages, by the Indians and
trappers, and are described as being intersected by streets (pathways)
for their accommodation, and a degree of neatness and cleanliness
is preserved. These villages or communities are, however, sometimes
infested with rattlesnakes and other reptiles which feed upon these
animals. The burrowing owl (_Surnia cunicularia_) is also found among
them. Occasionally these marmots stood quite erect, and watched our
movements, and then leaped into the air, all the time keeping an eye on
us. Now and then, one of them, after coming out of his hole, issued a
long and somewhat whistling note, perhaps a call or invitation to his
neighbors, as several came out in a few moments. They are, as we think,
more in the habit of feeding by night than in the daytime.”

Lieutenant Abert, who observed the prairie dog in New Mexico, says
it does not hibernate, “but is out all winter, as lively and as
pert as on any summer day.” Another observer states that it “closes
accurately the mouth of its furrow, and constructs at the bottom of
it a neat globular cell of fine dry grass, having an aperture at the
top sufficiently large to admit a finger, and so compactly put together
that it might almost be rolled along the ground, uninjured.”

Perhaps different winter temperatures in different localities may
govern the habit of hibernation.

The following sketch, from Kendall’s narrative of the Texan expedition
to Santa Fé, is so interesting that I present it to the reader:--

“We sat down upon a bank, under the shade of a mesquit, and leisurely
surveyed the scene before us. Our approach had driven every one to his
home in our immediate vicinity, but at the distance of some hundred
yards the small mound of earth in front of each burrow was occupied by
a prairie dog, sitting erect on his hinder legs, and coolly looking
about for the cause of the recent commotion. Every now and then, some
citizen, more adventurous than his neighbor, would leave his lodgings,
on a flying visit to a friend, apparently exchange a few words, and
then scamper back as fast as his legs would carry him. By and by, as we
kept perfectly still, some of our near neighbors were seen cautiously
poking their heads from out their holes, looking craftily, and at the
same time inquisitively, about them. Gradually a citizen would emerge
from the entrance of his domicile, come out upon his observatory, peek
his head cunningly, and then commence yelping, somewhat after the
manner of a young puppy, a quick jerk of the tail accompanying each
yelp. It is this short bark alone that has given them the name of dogs,
as they bear no more resemblance to that animal, either in appearance,
action, or manner of living, than they do to the hyena.

“Prairie dogs are a wild, frolicsome, madcap set of fellows when
undisturbed, uneasy, and ever on the move, and appear to take especial
delight in chattering away the time, and visiting from hole to hole to
gossip and talk over each other’s affairs; at least, so their actions
would indicate. When they find a good location for a village, and
there is no water in the immediate vicinity, old hunters say they dig
a well to supply the wants of the community. On several occasions I
crept close to their villages without being observed, to watch their
movements. Directly in the centre of one of them I noticed a very
large dog, which, by his actions, and those of his neighbors, seemed
the chief or big dog of the village. For at least an hour I watched
this village; during this time the large dog received at least a dozen
visits from his fellow-dogs, who would stop and chat with him a few
minutes, and then run off to their holes. All this while he never
left his seat at the entrance to his home, and I thought that I could
perceive a gravity in his deportment not discernible in those by whom
he was surrounded. Far is it from me to say that the visits he received
were upon business, or had anything to do with the local government of
the village, but it certainly appeared so.”

The _bizcacha_ does not live alone, for in each burrow I found a pair
of small owls, of the species known by the name of the “Burrowing Owl
of South America” (_Athene cunicularia_, Molina). As these birds are
somewhat peculiar in their habits, and some few errors have crept
into the writings of various authors regarding them, I will, for the
information of those interested, present the following sketch of their
habits, the result of observations which I made during my long journey.

I first met with this owl on the banks of the River San Juan, in the
Banda Oriental, one hundred and twenty miles west of Montevideo,
where a few pairs were observed devouring mice and insects during the
daytime. From the river, travelling westward thirty miles, I did not
meet a single individual, but after crossing the Las Vacas, and coming
upon a sandy waste covered with scattered trees and low bushes, I again
met with several.

Upon the pampas of the Argentine Republic they are found in great
numbers, from a few miles west of Rosario, on the Paraná, latitude 32°
56′ south, to the vicinity of San Luis, where the pampas end, and a
travesia or saline desert commences.

On these immense plains of grass it lives in company with the
_bizcacha_. The habits of this bird are said to be the same as those of
the species that inhabits the holes of the marmots upon the prairies
of western North America. But this is not strictly correct, for one
writer says of the northern species, “we have no evidence that the
owl and marmot habitually resort to one burrow;” and Say remarks that
“they were either common, though unfriendly, residents of the same
habitation, or that our owl was the sole occupant of a burrow acquired
by the right of conquest.” In this respect they differ from their South
American relatives, who live in perfect harmony with the _bizcacha_,
and during the day, while the latter is sleeping, a pair of these birds
stand a few inches within the main entrance of the burrow, and at the
first strange sound, be it near or distant, they leave their station,
and remain outside the hole, or upon the mound which forms the roof of
the domicile. When man approaches, both birds mount above him in the
air, and keep uttering their alarm note, with irides dilated, until he
passes, when they quietly settle down in the grass, or return to their
former place.

While on the pampas, I did not observe these birds taking prey during
the daytime, but at sunset the _bizcachas_ and owls leave their holes,
and search for food, the young of the former playing about the birds
as they alighted near them. They do not associate in companies, there
being but one pair to each hole, and at night do not stray far from
their homes.

In describing the North American burrowing owl, a writer says that the
species “suddenly disappears in the early part of August,” and that
“the species is strictly diurnal.”

The _Athene cunicularia_ has not these habits. It does not disappear
during any part of the year, and it is both nocturnal and diurnal, for
though I did not observe it preying by day on the pampas, I noticed
that it fed at all hours of the day and night on the north shore of the
Plata, in the Banda Oriental.

At longitude 66° west our caravan struck the great saline desert that
stretches to the Andes, and during fourteen days’ travel on foot I did
not see a dozen of these birds; but while residing outside the town of
San Juan, at the eastern base of the Andes, I had an opportunity to
watch their habits in a locality differing materially from the pampas.

The months of September and October are the conjugal ones. During the
middle of the former month I obtained a male bird with a broken wing.
It lived in confinement two days, refusing to eat, and died from the
effects of the wound. A few days later a boy brought me a female owl,
with five eggs, that had been taken from her nest, five feet from the
mouth of a burrow that wound among the roots of a tree.

She was fierce in her cage, and fought with wings and beak, uttering
all the while a shrill, prolonged note, resembling the sound produced
by drawing a file across the teeth of a saw. I supplied her with eleven
full-grown mice, which were devoured during the first thirty-six hours
of confinement.

I endeavored to ascertain if this species burrows its own habitation,
but my observations of eight months failed to impress me with the
belief that it does. I have conversed with intelligent persons who
have been familiar with their habits, and never did I meet one that
believed this bird to be its own workman. It places a small nest of
feathers at the end of some occupied or deserted burrow, as necessity
demands, in which are deposited from two to five white eggs, which are
nearly spherical in form, and are a little larger than the eggs of the
domestic pigeon.

In the Banda Oriental, where the country is as fine, and the favorite
food of the owl more plentifully distributed than upon the pampas, this
bird is not common in comparison with the numbers found in the latter
locality. The reason is obvious. The _bizcacha_ does not exist in the
Banda Oriental, and consequently these birds have a poor chance for
finding habitations. On the pampas, where thousands upon thousands
of _bizcachas_ undermine the soil, there, in their true locality, the
traveller finds thousands of owls. Again, along the bases of the Andes,
where the _bizcacha_ is rarely met with, we find only a few pairs.
Does the hole, from which my bird was taken, appear to be the work
of a bird or quadruped? The several works that I have been able to
consult do not, in one instance, give personal observations relative
to the burrowing propensities of this owl; from which fact, it will be
inferred that it never has been caught in the act of burrowing.

We continued our journey while the sun left in the western heavens
beautiful clouds of purple and gray as souvenirs of his company through
the bright, warm day.

Around us on the plains were many animals in droves and herds, all
preparing for the night. Troops of wild colts galloped homeward past us
at the heels of their anxious mothers, who occasionally halted as if to
dispute our right of passage through their territory. Darkness now set
in, and soon the caravan halted for the night. I made my bed upon a raw
hide, spread upon the top of the cargo in the cart, and was soon fast
asleep; but I was shortly awakened by Don Facundo, who climbed into the
cart, coughing loudly, and saying, by dumb show, pointing towards the
south-west, that a _pampero_ had commenced blowing. The wind, which
was accompanied by rain and hail, violently shook the old cart, and
whistled dolefully through its reed-covered sides. The don’s cough had
increased alarmingly, and he shivered with cold. “_Compañero_,” he
continually called out, giving me a poke to signify something that his
ignorance of the Spanish language would not allow him to express more
intelligibly, for he spoke only the tongue of his native province--the
_Quichua_. I at last handed him my overcoat--an act of generosity
that I afterwards regretted, for, though I applied several times for
its restoration during the journey, he would not give it up, but ate,
slept, and worked in it until we had crossed the country, and it was no
longer serviceable.




                             CHAPTER VIII.

                    LIFE ON THE PAMPAS--CONTINUED.


The night passed drearily away, and glad enough was I when day dawned,
and the caravan was prepared to start.

Before we began to move, I retired to my cart, and changed my clothes,
appearing before my companions in the unconfined and comfortable garb
of a sailor.

The moment the peons, who were clustered around the fire, beheld me,
they shouted to each other “_Montenero!_” a word which at that time
I did not comprehend, but which, as I learned some months later, was
the name of a particular class of bandits, who, about 1817, under the
leadership of Artizas, filled the republic with consternation. Probably
my sailor’s dress resembled that of the robbers.

As the heavy mist rolled off the pampas, we discerned two shepherds
driving their flocks to another pasture; and, as there was no hut
in sight, they had probably passed the night sleeping upon their
saddles, a common custom of the herdsmen. As a specimen of his skill,
the younger of the two spurred his horse after a ram, the patriarch
of the flock, and, as he drew near it, swung the lasso a few times
around his head, and the fatal noose fell over the neck of the animal.
Dismounting from his horse, the gaucho jumped upon the ram, which began
to run for dear life. As they scampered over the plain, I could plainly
see pieces of wool flying from the animal’s fleecy sides, as the rider
plied his sharp, heavy spurs.

But rams were evidently not created for saddle-beasts, for the animal
stumbled in his flight, upsetting, in a most ludicrous manner, his
rider, who sprawled upon the turf.

Our caravan was now in motion. As we proceeded on our course, the
pampa gradually became more undulating, and was covered with a coarser
herbage, shooting up in clumps to the height of a foot or more.

Soon after sunrise we met a party of eight horsemen from Mendoza, one
of whom was armed with a spear, which was ornamented with a flag. About
ten o’clock we passed a miserable _estancia_ house, built of burnt
bricks; we halted near it for the purpose of greasing the wheels of the
carts. This was attended to by the _capataz_. He first cut into thin
slices a pound of white native soap, and, after pouring hot water upon
it, added a little salt, when he beat the whole together with a bunch
of reeds drawn from the sides of the cart. While stirring this mixture,
he would not permit me to look into the pail, but, turning his back on
me, leaned over the mixture, muttering to himself, and making crosses
over it, acting as if afraid that I would discover the recipe for the
wheel-grease.

Before noon the caravan was again in motion. Three half-starved dogs
that accompanied us gave chase to several deer that appeared in
sight, but they were unable to approach them. These deer (_Cervus
campestris_) are very common on the pampas. They have one habit which
is common to the antelopes of North American prairies. When a person
approaches them, they seem anxious to make his acquaintance, drawing
near, and scrutinizing him with much curiosity. They are a small
species, are of a yellowish-brown color on the upper parts, and white
beneath the body. They are hunted by the gauchos in parties, who pursue
and capture them with the _boliadores_.

A species of parrot (_Psittacus patagonus_) was observed flying in
large flocks northward. At another time, I observed one or two very
small species, of a green color, with grayish-white breasts. I have
seen the same species in the Banda Oriental, flying in flocks of
considerable size.

The clearness of the atmosphere gave great effect to the mirages that
we constantly behold around us. Twice we seemed to see large lakes far
in advance of our caravan, but they vanished utterly upon our moving
nearer them.

On our right, in the distance, the mirage so much resembled the ocean,
that our carpenter, who had been in Buenos Ayres, pointed to it,
exclaiming, “_El mar!_” (the sea).

Since leaving Rosario, we had met, along the road, flocks of small
white gulls, feeding on carrion; but they, during this day’s march,
became more scarce, and soon disappeared entirely, and we saw no more
of them on the pampas. The little ponds of water before noticed were
now rarely encountered, and it became necessary, therefore, to lay in a
stock before going farther. Each cart was supplied with a long earthen
jar, lashed on behind, which held five or six gallons; these jars were
filled; and these, with one or two demijohns stowed inside, comprised
our water supply,--enough to last several days.

About three o’clock in the afternoon a long, dark cloud of dust
appeared above the horizon in advance of our troop, and the _patron_,
beside whose horse I was walking, informed me that it was “_una
tropa de Mendoza_.” In the course of the next half hour it made its
appearance in the road before us.

The troop presented a picturesque appearance as it slowly toiled
along in divisions of ten carts each. The procession was headed by
four or five asses, with pack-saddles and loads, and by a number of
mules without luggage, driven by gauchos. After these followed the
two divisions of carts, filled to such a degree with hides that their
drivers were entirely hidden by them. This troop carried, as usual, a
stock of firewood, consisting of heavy branches and gnarled stumps,
which were lashed to the roofs of the carts. The relays consisted of
thirty oxen and a few old cows, which were also under the guidance
of a crew of almost savage gauchos. At sunset we passed a little
knoll, conspicuous in the midst of the vast plain, surmounted by a
small dwelling; beyond it lay an extensive _pantana_ (swamp), that
we were obliged to traverse, although the labor it cost us was not
inconsiderable. Several yokes of oxen were detached from the after
carts, and connected with those of the leading ones, when, with a vast
amount of uproar and merciless goading, each cart was drawn, in turn,
through the mire.

We encamped beyond the _pantana_, and supped upon sliced pumpkins,
boiled with bits of meat, and seasoned with salt. I would remark here
that the gauchos never use salt with roasted meat, but frequently
sprinkle it into a stew, if the heterogeneous messes which they
compound and boil in iron pots are worthy of that title.

Our meal was served in genuine pampa fashion; one iron spoon and two
cow’s horns, split in halves, were passed around the group, the members
of which squatted upon their haunches, and freely helped themselves
from the kettle.

Even in this most uncivilized form of satisfying hunger there is a
peculiar etiquette, which the most lowly peon invariably observes.
Each member of the company in turn dips his spoon, or horn, into the
centre of the stew, and draws it in a direct line _towards_ him, never
allowing it to deviate to the right or the left.

By observing this rule, each person eats without interfering with his
neighbor. Being ignorant of this custom, I dipped my horn into the
mess at random, and fished about in it for some of the nice bits. My
companions regarded this horrid breach of politeness with scowls of
impatience; they declared, with some warmth, to the _capataz_ that
gringos did not know how to eat, and, “as they lived upon dogs in their
own distant country, they come to the great Argentine Republic to get
food and grow fat on the gauchos.” I apologized as well as I could,
and endeavored, during the remainder of the meal, to eat according to
gaucho etiquette.

As night came on, a brilliant scene was developed before us. As
far as the eye could reach, we beheld the ruddy glow of a distant
conflagration of the pampa herbage. Fortunately it did not approach
us, but after giving us a view of one of the most sublime and
magnificent sights in nature, it faded at last away into the south.

During the night I suffered much from the cold.

I was awakened on the following morning (Sunday) by my peon, who
gave me to understand, by gestures, that the _asado_ was prepared.
As I joined the company at the fire, the _patron_ approached us with
a poncho filled with watermelons, which he had purchased at the
_estancia_ house on the mound; of these we ate heartily, and they were
delicious.

As the pieces of rind fell to the ground, they were eagerly devoured
by the dogs, and by two little children that accompanied the troop. I
often pitied these little neglected creatures, and shared with them
my fare. I gave them a portion of my share of the melons, and their
gratitude was warm and demonstrative: they were going to Mendoza with
their mother, the wife of one of the drivers.

This was the first Sunday spent on the road; and as there was a plenty
of thistles for our fire, and good grass for the cattle, the day was
passed without leaving camp, the gauchos amusing themselves with a pack
of cards.

I had with me an illustrated Testament. The peons, after gazing
intently upon a picture of the crucifixion, declared that I was a
_Cristiano_, and invited me to play cards with them.

During the next day we saw a plenty of wire-grass, and at least thirty
deer grazed within a mile of the wagons. No cattle were to be seen. The
wind, which blew from the north-east, was very warm. Our course was
west.

In a halt which we made during the day’s travel, I turned my blanket
into a poncho, by cutting a hole in the middle, and thrusting my head
through the aperture. When the gauchos saw my new garment, they shouted
in admiration; and one or two, who could speak a little Spanish,
exclaimed, “Gaucho, Bostron!”

At dark we camped near a corral, or cattle-yard, formed of the _tunas_,
a species of wild cactus. At supper we ate our last morsel of meat
brought from Rosario; the bones were heated upon the fire, then broken,
and the marrow greedily eaten by the men.

Throughout the night the mosquitos and flies tormented me, until I was
obliged to roll my head in a blanket.

At dawn the troop set out, in the midst of a heavy shower, without
eating, and kept on until Don José commanded a halt, in order to kill
an old cow which had been purchased at an _estancia_ the day before.

We camped near a collection of mud-huts, surrounded by a gigantic
growth of cactus, and called _Guardia de la Esquina_. It was the first
place we had met that approached the dignity of a village; but its
qualifications for that title were extremely limited.

Half a mile south of the _Esquina_ a low brick structure, resembling
in form two sugar-boxes,--one set on its side, and the other placed
perpendicularly against it,--stood alone on the plain. A melancholy
story is connected with this structure.

Don B, a rich _estanciero_, owned many miles of the surrounding
country; and the report that he had much money buried in the earth
about his brick _casa_ excited the cupidity of the Indians. They came
from the south in a large party, ransacked the place, and carried away
the hoarded treasure, after cutting the throats of the don, his child,
and sixteen peons, all of whom were afterwards buried in a common grave.

While several of the men were slaughtering the cow, the carpenter,
with two or three others of the troop, guided by a man sent from the
_Esquina_, visited the hole in which the bodies lay. The earth had
fallen in as the bodies had undergone decomposition, for they had been
buried in the usual manner of the pampas, without any other covering
than the clothes worn at the time of death. On reaching the spot,
the gaucho from the town conversed at length with our men; but the
substance of his conversation was unintelligible to me. The carpenter
threw off his poncho, and commenced digging in good earnest, with a
heavy hoe, which he had brought from the carts.

Two little crosses marked the spot where father and child were laid.
As his implement sank deep into the earth, a dull, crushing sound
announced that it had buried itself in the skull of a man, and the
digger drew forth the tool with a human head, greatly decomposed, upon
it. The hoe had entered between the jaws. At the sight a sickening
sensation came over me; but the _Santiagueños_, who had left their
work, and were grouped around the grave, laughed at my sensations, and
scraped away the matted hair from the ghastly head, which was still red
with blood, with their knives, which they returned to their sheaths
without cleaning. It was a disgusting picture--the natives, with their
bare legs and breasts besmeared with the blood of the animal they had
just butchered, passing the head from hand to hand, and joking at a
calamity that should have excited their pity and commiseration.

The head of the child was also exhumed, and the two were placed in a
bag to be taken to Mendoza, where the priests could pray over them;
for so long as they remained uninterred in the _panteon_ (consecrated
burying-ground), the souls that once animated them would be kept from
the land of bliss.

The attack by the Indians had occurred only a short time before our
visit, and the prints of their horses’ hoofs were not obliterated from
the spot where the butchery was done.

Our caravan continued its course until nine o’clock, and passed Cabeza
del Tigre, a place well known as having been the scene of a transaction
equally lamentable with the one just recorded. The facts were related
to me by a gentleman in whose word I placed great confidence.

Three English merchants who had made large fortunes in California were
returning to England, and, having their treasures with them, would not
risk a passage around Cape Horn, but landing at Valparaiso, crossed the
Cordillera to Mendoza, and there, in as private a manner as possible,
engaged for the passage of their property in a large troop of carts
bound to Rosario.

Far better would it have been, as it proved, had they trusted to the
ocean, rather than to have attempted crossing, with their treasures,
a country inhabited by a treacherous and lawless people. Despite all
their efforts to keep the matter secret, it became known that a party
of “gringos” from the land of gold were about to cross the pampas. The
English character is proverbially daring; the three merchants pursued
their course, regardless of the reports of the natives and the advice
of friends. The great travesia was crossed, and they passed through
the provinces of San Luis and Cordova in safety; but when they reached
the vicinity of Cabeza del Tigre, several hundred Indians, mounted on
horseback, and armed with spears, met them on the road and offered
battle.

The _patron_ ordered the carts to be formed into a square, and the
peons got within its protection. The three white men and the _patron_
and _capataz_ fought desperately. The Englishmen were armed with
double-barrelled guns, and for a time kept the enemy at bay; one of
them shot a _cacique_ (chief), and this for a time kept the tide of
battle in their favor.

At that period, Cabeza del Tigre was a military fort; the report of the
guns aroused the soldiers, but for a time they were undecided how to
act, through fear of the savages. At a moment when a vigorous attack
by all the peons would have decided the battle, and some soldiers were
even seen in the distance, galloping towards the spot, the Indians,
with a desperate effort, succeeded in despatching the Englishmen,
secured their treasure, and, before the small military force arrived,
hurried away beyond their reach.

The amount of money carried off by the Indians was reported to have
been many thousand doubloons. Though this sum seems large, the amount
taken must have been considerable, for my informant said that, for
several weeks after the event had transpired, Rio Quarto and El Moro
were visited by parties of Indians, who were readily admitted as
peaceful visitors, their purpose being to exchange gold onzas for
silver, as they obtained more in _bulk_ of the latter metal by the
transaction. The silver coin was manufactured into rings and other
trinkets. Those intended for the ears were several inches in diameter,
and so heavy that they required to be supported by fastenings to the
hair of the head.

However lightly the peons regarded Indian murders at the _Esquina_,
their faces assumed a very different expression from that of mirth,
when, during the next day, a troop of mules from the interior passed
us, and the _patron_ informed our company that the savages had cut the
throats of eleven soldiers not far from the very road that we were on.
Their boisterous mirth was over; and during the several succeeding
days I do not remember of having heard a single song, or a light word,
in the company. They all looked dubious enough; one or two tried to
amuse themselves by drawing their knives across their throats in a
significant manner before me, but their efforts only made me smile, and
provoked the other members of the party.

During the next day we passed over a country destitute of pasturage;
but the road ran along the River Quarto for an eighth of a mile, and we
had, therefore, some muddy water to drink.

At this place the river trended to the west; the right bank was about
twenty-five feet in height, and as steep us a wall; the left side was
sloping and covered with vines, thorn-bushes, and gigantic cacti,
which in one place formed a natural enclosure, in which I passed
fully an hour, in watching the movements of a bird resembling our
turtle-dove. The river was about twenty feet wide, and had a sluggish
current.

We passed at dusk the hamlet of Saladillo, but could not catch a
glimpse of it, though Don Manuel wished me to visit it with him;
for, said he, “_Hay mucho pan, mucho queso, e muchas muchuchas
tambien_”--“There is a plenty of bread and cheese, and also a great
many young ladies.”

Upon the pampas, winds from opposite quarters frequently meet and form
little whirlwinds, that sometimes take up a large cloud of dust, which
helps to relieve the monotony of the journey; but these clouds of dust
not only settle upon the weary travellers, covering them with the fine
powder, but render them exceedingly thirsty. Such was my condition,
when, wayworn and weary, the orders were spoken to halt and prepare
to camp. We had arrived at the borders of a salt lagoon, which was
filled with wild fowl. The confused sounds that came from hundreds of
ducks, teals, loons, white cranes, sand-pipers, and plovers, made it a
second Babel. Around the borders of the lake the soil was white with
saline matter, and covered with the footprints of the _bizcacha_, and I
observed that the grass was trodden down into little paths leading from
their burrows to the water.

Our last cow had been eaten, and we had already fasted twenty-four
hours, when we prepared to camp, and I was only too glad when the
directions were given to slaughter an ox; and, judging by the alacrity
with which the men set about executing their orders, they were as glad
as myself of the prospect of breaking their fast.

The animal was thrown down and butchered; its blood was allowed to
run into a hole dug for the purpose, and suffered to clot, when it
was placed in a bladder, and suspended from the roof of a cart, to be
kept for the purpose of coloring the handles of the small goads--the
_picanos chicos_--of the drivers. While a portion of the men were
attending to this work, others were engaged in caring for their cattle,
and others were lighting a fire, which, as other fuel was not to be
had, was made of the argols of cattle. Soon huge pieces of the meat
were steaming and crackling before the heat, and before darkness had
completely enveloped us, we were luxuriating on fresh beef and some
_matés_.

Supper over, we took refuge in the carts, and although the noise of the
wild fowl on the lake was continued, which to my ears was a very sweet
music, I confess I was soon asleep.

On the next morning, bright and early, we again took up our march, and
through that day and the next pushed on over the plains.

From the hamlet of Saladillo, sixty miles westward, we met but two
or three huts and a few salt lagoons. Near one of the latter, six
black-necked swans flew over my head, and I noticed many other fowls
that are common in North America, such as the stilt, green-winged teal,
pin-tailed duck, and the great blue heron. The road was everywhere
covered with saline matter, and the reflection of the sun’s rays upon
it was painful to the sight.

As we passed a mud hut near one of the lagoons, a woman came out to
sell melons and pumpkins. I visited the hut, but, although it was far
neater than the majority of ranchos on the pampas, it was a miserable
place to live in, for the fleas and _chinchas_ were far too numerous
for comfort. The hut was twelve feet long and seven feet high; it was
a mere framework of sticks lashed together with strips of hide, and
covered with cornstalks, reeds, and mud. It contained two beds propped
against the wall; three or four bottles, a couple of spoons, and an
iron kettle with the _maté_, were the contents of one corner, and the
only furniture the cabin contained. I noticed long strings of sliced
pumpkins drying in the sun; these vegetables keep many poor peons from
starving during the winter time. They are very generally grown, and are
used throughout the country.

The woman appeared to be frugal and industrious, for she had cultivated
a large patch of melons, and raised numerous families of hens, turkeys,
and muscovy ducks. And I would remark, in passing, that this woman was
not an exception, as regards general fitness for the duties of life,
to her sex throughout the republic; indeed, they seem better fitted to
act in any responsible position, or attend to any duty, than the men;
for of the large class called _chinos_ (pronounced cheenows), produced
by intermarriage of the Spanish and Indians, that cover the pampas, and
compose the lower classes in the more civilized towns, the women are
the most energetic and faithful.

Our march for several days was monotonous and eventless. Late in the
afternoon of Tuesday, April 10, we camped on the open plain, one mile
distant from the little town of Punta del Sauce (Willow Point), so
called from the scattered willows around it. It contains between two
and three hundred inhabitants, as Don José informed me. The people must
have been sharp-sighted, for we had hardly come in sight of the place
before we saw the townsfolk approaching us.

Among the many visitors was one that very particularly attracted my
attention, and for some minutes puzzled me to decide as to which sex
it belonged. It was astride a one-eared donkey, which it halted before
our party, without dismounting. While this person conversed with the
_patron_ in gutturals, I had a fair opportunity to survey its ugly
features and shapeless form. The head was enormous, and the hair stuck
out in every direction in wiry curls. The swarthy face, huge lips,
and large bright eyes showed that the negro blood prevailed over the
Indian. What added still more to its ferocious expression was the
long, projecting incisors, which, when the creature spoke, caused it
to resemble a wild beast more than a human being. It wore a calico
tunic, unbuttoned behind, from the skirts of which protruded a thick
pair of round legs, that drummed the sides of the jackass, in lieu of
whip or spur. When Don José informed me that it was _una señorita_ (a
woman), I uttered an exclamation of surprise. But I had not seen all
the beauties, for during the remainder of our journey we fell in with
several others, counterparts of this woman, and, if possible, still
more ugly and disagreeable. During our stay at Punta del Sauce, several
young women (half Indian) brought a poor quality of salt to sell,
together with cheese and melons. I gave an old Indian, who was one of
our drivers, and who had on several occasions shown me a kindness, a
pound of the best salt that I could procure. After tasting it, he put
it carefully aside, perhaps with the intention of selling it, as he
did not use any on the road. While the _patron’s_ back was turned, Don
Facundo, my cook and attendant, sold my meat to a woman of the village
for a few ears of corn; but, as I did not understand his Quichua
language, it was useless for me to remonstrate. The don, with his
messmates, feasted upon their new dish without extending an invitation
to its should-be rightful owner, who was obliged to fast for the next
thirty-six hours. The rascals told Don José some lie to account for the
loss of my meat, and that was the last of it.

Again we took up our line of march. On the next day we came again to
the river, and I noticed that its banks were in some places perforated
with the burrows or holes of parrots. In this place the water was
clear, and I did not notice any saline deposit upon its banks.

The woman in our caravan, of whom I have spoken before, on this day
fell and drove a splinter into her foot; and, as she could not extract
it, I offered my services as _medico_. As I was successful, she seemed
overwhelmed with gratitude, and from that time she was almost the only
friend that I had among the people of the troop.

During our journey on this day, as they were riding along, the _patron_
and _capataz_ entered upon a geographical discussion, and as their
opinions differed widely, they called upon me to decide between them;
but as Don José had the reputation of a great scholar among his men, I
did not dare to give him any opinion of my own, and they went on in the
same tone as before.

“Where _is_ Bostron?” asked the _capataz_.

“Bostron is in France, to be sure,” replied the other.

“That cannot be, because France is a great way off, and has not got any
moon; and the gringo told me, the other night, that there is a moon in
Bostron, and North America is in the same place.”

“Fool!” exclaimed the scholar, “North America is in England, the
country where the gringos live that tried to take Buenos Ayres.”

Each was confident that he was right, and, believing that

  “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise,”

I left them to themselves.

The caravan dragged on its weary pace; at length, as darkness came on,
the peons, looking out of their wagons, shouted, as they pointed ahead
of us, “La Reduccion!” “Reduccion!”

Soon we drew near the town, which lay surrounded with fields of corn.
As we approached the place, old women and young people came out to meet
us, bringing soft cheese, salt, and unripe melons for sale. When we
reached the outskirts, Don José wheeled his mule and dismounted; each
peon cried “Sh-u-u-ah!” to his oxen, and the tired caravan halted for
the night. On the next morning we again took up the march, and made
considerable progress before sunrise; but the wind from the north soon
came laden with a most horrid heat, and we were obliged to come to a
pause, luckily close beside a river, the valley of which was filled
with tall flags and willows. The water was very clear, and ran over a
bed of sand, filled with scales of mica and quartz.

At dusk we prepared to cross the stream (the Rio Quarto) at Paso
Durazno (Peach Pass). At this ford the river, which was very wide and
shallow, has a swift current and a stony bed. We intended to spend the
night on the opposite side, so that we could have a fair start next
day. The men stripped themselves, and stood in a line from one bank to
the other. As each cart was drawn slowly past by the oxen, the cruel
fellows goaded them until the blood trickled from the punctures, at the
same time yelling loud enough to be heard a mile at least. Beyond the
river was a hill covered with bushes, and called by the natives San
Bernardo, and to the right of the road a small collection of ranchos
surrounded by patches of corn.

From the summit of San Bernardo I caught sight of the distant tops of
the Cerro Moro, resembling a silver cloud in the clear heavens. During
the evening we occupied ourselves in drawing trunks of trees from the
river valley, and lashing them to the outside of the carts, and in
filling the jars behind the carts with water, preparatory to a dry
march.

While we were at supper, three pampa Indian women passed the camp. Two
were very masculine in appearance, the third young and handsome. They
were dressed in loose gowns. As they passed they smiled, apparently
at the consternation their appearance produced among the peons, who
seemed ready to sink into the ground with fear at the presence of
supposed spies. The women were from the pampas, and were on their way
to the village of Rio Quarto. The excitement which their advent created
among our people was a long time in being lulled, and even when I
sought my bed in the cart I heard the eager and animated voices of the
peons, who were busily engaged in preparing for an onslaught from the
dreaded savages.




                              CHAPTER IX.

                    FROM RIO QUARTO TO CERRO MORO.


On Saturday, April 14, we unlashed our oxen before Rio Quarto. All
along the road the _patron_ and _capataz_ had spoken of this village,
which they described as being very beautiful, filled with fine
white-washed houses, and inhabited by a wealthy class of people, many
of whom owned thousands of cattle which were pastured upon _estancias_
outside the village. Besides, it was here that the great Indian
battles had taken place: both the gentlemen failed to inform me that
the Indians were generally the victors, not the _Cristianos_, as they
called the citizens of the village.

The woman, with her two children, who had travelled with us, set out
for a visit to the village, and, bent upon exploring the place, I
accompanied them.

Rio Quarto is situated upon a plain, and differs but little in its
general appearance from the other towns. It is laid out in a regular
manner, and is shut in by a mud wall two or three feet in thickness,
and five or more in height. The wall is surrounded by a broad trench
about four feet deep, which serves as a defence against the Indians.
It was hard for me at first to understand the value of this dry ditch;
but I learned afterwards that no more formidable defence was needed
against an attack from the savages; for, during engagements, they never
leave the backs of their horses, and as they cannot leap the ditches,
nor scramble out of them when in, they avoid the obstacles with care.

At the time of our visit to Rio Quarto, there was no little commotion
among the people; for news had been received of a projected
Indian attack, and the news seemed to be continued by the recent
intelligence that the savages had drawn off from other places, and were
concentrating near the town.

The garrison had been reënforced by soldiers sent by the governor of
the province. These troops, in their ignorance and alarm, had loaded
an old iron gun in a most singular manner; for they had first put in
several pounds of lead balls and slugs, then rammed in a heavy wadding,
and finally charged with powder. I judged from their manner of loading
cannons, that their efficiency as soldiers, should an attack be made,
would prove of little value.

The houses of Rio Quarto are built of mud, and thatched with dry grass;
the streets are of mud, the walls are of mud, and the ideas of the
people are muddy thick. They seem merely to exist, rather than live
with any idea of what living is. The few rich men of the village own
the cattle that feed in the surrounding country, while the poorer
classes support themselves as best they can, living on a meagre diet
of pumpkins, peaches, corn, and rarely, meat. They sometimes labor for
their wealthier townspeople, but usually sleep the time away. All the
persons that I met were squalid in appearance, and the children were
half naked.

The gardens about the town contained but little more than quince or
peach trees. At the corners of the streets were filthy _pulperias_
(small shops), and the only decent building in town was the church in
the plaza, which was surmounted by a dome, steeple, and cross. On the
side of the building, in place of windows, hemispherical holes were
cut, and covered with muslin; in fact, the only glass that I saw was
in the two or three street lamps. As it was Saturday, the _vigilantes_
were sweeping the plaza with a large hide, attached to the surcingle of
a horse which was driven around the square.

Having fasted since the day before, I purchased some bread made in
the place, and shared it with my companions. It was poor in quality,
and contained no small amount of sand and sticks. The flour had been
brought on mules from Mendoza, three hundred and eighty miles distant,
and bread was something of a luxury in Rio Quarto.

After quite a stay, nearly a day in length, we left Rio Quarto. Our
route lay over an undulating pampa, covered with long grass, but
scarcely a herd of cattle could be seen, and for miles we met with no
evidence that human beings inhabited the country. Water was seldom
found, but the small quantities that we discovered lay in little
hollows of two or three inches in depth, and was of a better quality
than any that we had met with on the road.

The herdsmen are extremely dirty in their habits, and those who
performed the duty of drivers in our caravan were particularly filthy;
many of them, indeed, showed no token of ablutions performed for many
weeks.

While the troop halted to rest the oxen close by a pool of water,
I could not resist the temptation to bathe, and, stripping myself,
enjoyed the luxury of a good bath, which had been denied me for more
than a fortnight. I then washed my linen, and returned to the men
who were sitting around the fire, solacing themselves with a round
of _matés_. They laughed heartily at my ideas of cleanliness, and
asked, through Don Manuel, my interpreter, what opinion I had formed
of themselves, who could cross the pampas and return again--a journey
of eighty days--without once applying water to their skins. I replied
that it was my opinion that they were very dirty fellows, and suited
for the country in which they lived. At this answer they again laughed,
and replied that white skins, like those of all foreigners, were
exceedingly inconvenient, because of the great attention required for
retaining its color.

The next day was Sunday, but the caravan kept on its way as usual.

Throughout the whole day the sun poured down its scorching rays, and
the hot wind from the north was accompanied by myriads of mosquitos and
minute black flies.

We had nothing left of the ox that had been finished the day before,
save the head, which had hung upon the outside of one of the carts
for four days, and was in a decomposed state. The sight of the filthy
cranium caused me to wonder why it was not thrown away, for I never
dreamed that it was intended for any use; but it was not to be wasted.

We had not eaten anything since the morning of the previous day; but
at noon a halt was ordered, a quantity of dried argols of cattle were
collected, a fire was kindled with flint and steel, which the herdsman
always carries in his belt, and an old iron kettle, belonging to one of
the carts, was partly filled with water, and placed above the coals.
When it was properly adjusted, the men piled the dry dung around the
bottom so as to retain the heat beneath it, and soon the water was
bubbling and beginning to boil. The old and decomposed head of the
ox was now brought to the fire. Its contents--the brains, &c.--were
scooped out, and thrown into the pot, and with the addition of a little
salt the stew was complete. At any other time the sight of such a mess
would have disgusted me, but things were changed now, and, faint with
hunger, I watched the boiling of the stew with no little interest.

At last Facundo, the cook, who had stood beside the kettle during the
whole time, and had occasionally tasted the dish with his horn spoon,
and as often had declared it “excellent,” summoned the party to dinner.
I remember well that I scrambled with the others to get at it, but I
only procured a very small portion, which I was obliged to swallow so
hot that I scalded my tongue severely.

The meal was finished in a much shorter time than I have occupied in
describing it, and soon each driver harried off to lasso his oxen,
which they lashed to the yokes, and we were again in motion.

About three o’clock we drew up beside some rough hammocks of earth to
feed the cattle; the country was more undulating, and was here covered
with wire-grass, which the cattle at once began to feed upon. I had
here a first view of the Sierra of Cordova, the boundary line of the
provinces of Cordova and San Luis.

The _patron_ had purchased an old cow a few days before at San
Bernardo, and having stinted the men as long as possible, he now
decided to kill her. This was no easy matter, for the cow was as
stubborn and furious as any bull, and had only been kept manageable by
attaching her by a strap of hide to another animal equally fierce and
ungovernable. These two animals had required particular care to prevent
them from straying from the troop.

The strap that bound the two brutes together was cut asunder, and Don
Manuel, the best gaucho of the party, set off in full chase of the
doomed cow, swinging the lasso above his head, and urging on his horse
by repeated applications of the enormous spurs that adorned his heels.
When within eight or ten yards of the animal, the valiant don, with
a fiercely uttered _ca-jo_, let fly the lasso, and at the same time
wheeled his horse.

The cow, continuing on her headlong course, was suddenly brought up by
the fatal noose tightening around her neck, and she went tumbling to
the ground.

It was a wonder to me that the fall did not break her neck. She arose,
bewildered, to her feet, and for an instant paused; but quickly
divining the cause of her entrapment, she lowered her head, and made
a run at the don and his horse; but the little animal that he bestrode
having been well trained, was in a gallop before the cow drew near, and
the lasso kept as tight as ever. The victim now uttered a loud bellow,
and charged blindly at one of the cart-wheels: the force of the shock
with which she struck rendered her wild with rage. She bellowed until
the tightened noose choked all utterance, when she renewed her charges
upon the men, horses, and carts. The _patron_ now called loudly upon
Maistro Ramon, one of the leading men, and, mounting his mule, Maistro
galloped to the rescue.

The cow stood at bay, tossing up the earth with her nose, and stamping
wrathfully with her hoofs; but her new assailant was a skilful gaucho.
He started her, and threw his noose around one of her hind legs, when,
galloping in opposite directions, the two men tripped the animal up,
and stretched her upon the ground.

One of the peons fastened her four hoofs together with a piece of
hide, and another man officiated as butcher. With his long knife
he despatched her, and in half an hour she was skinned, cut up,
and divided among the carts. When the meat was cooked I ate a
moderate-sized piece, and strolled away from the men, who were
gormandizing beside the fires, to watch the curious feast that the
birds of prey were making upon the refuse parts of the cow.

Whether some of the birds of prey discover their food by means of
sight or scent, has long been an unsettled question, some naturalists
affirming that the former sense is their principal guide, and others
that the latter is the only one.

Audubon, in his Ornithological Biography, gives some accounts of
interesting experiments that he made with the turkey-buzzard, proving
that this bird is attracted only by the organs of vision to its food.
Other writers have offered other observations, corroborative of
Audubon’s position. And I would here present a fact that came to my
observation, concerning one of the most common South American birds,
helping to show that Audubon was correct in his opinion.

Before the cow was butchered, I searched the plain, but not a single
caracara (_Polyborus Brasiliensis_), the well-known carrion-lover of
the pampas, was visible. There was no wind stirring, and had there
been, the scent of the fresh offal of the cow could certainly not have
been carried to any distance. But the cow had hardly been butchered
when a single caracara was seen on the horizon. He had hardly alighted
beside the offal when another and another were distinguished, coming
in the path of the first. For half an hour they continued to arrive,
all coming from one direction, and as one alighted upon the carcass
another came in view, flying straight to the spot where the others were
collected. I remained watching them for a long time, and when I left
there were at least fifty birds on the spot, and the line of flight was
still unbroken; each new comer being greeted by the others with their
indistinct guttural ca-ra-ca-ra! Now, of course, all these birds had
not been attracted by the sense of smell, for the supposition that the
scent of the newly killed animal could have travelled miles in a few
moments is simply preposterous.

The birds must have been flying in air, on the lookout for food, and,
as they are filled with a most wonderful vision, on seeing the first
one hurrying in one direction, the natural inference must have been--if
birds draw inferences--that he was hurrying to something to eat. The
birds nearest him followed him, others followed them, and they arrived
at the slaughter-ground in the order in which they started for it--the
nearest first, and the farthest last.

Perhaps a more extended account of the caracara will not be
uninteresting to the reader.

The caracaras feed upon anything that comes in their way, gleaning
carrion like the buzzards, and killing other birds like the hawks. I
even once saw one attack a lamb, but the old dam interfered, and after
receiving some rebuffs from the bird, succeeded in protecting her
offspring from her enemy.

This bird possesses an unenviable reputation as a thief among the
gauchos, and, as it kills young birds, lambs, even seizes the game that
the hunter has just killed, it is far from being a favorite with any
class of the people.

It inhabits an extended geographical range. I have seen it in
south-western Texas and in most parts of South America. This species
is the “Mexican Eagle.” A fine bird, indeed, for the emblem of a
nation!--it is emblazoned upon the Mexican flag; but we of the North
must not be too critical, for we still retain upon our banner and coin
that selfish thief, the bald-headed eagle--the most relentless robber
and pirate of our rapacious birds.

The caracara is sometimes found in company with the _Gallinazo_
(_Cathartes atratus_), also known to the people on the Plata as the
carrion crow. This latter bird is found north of the Rio Negro in
various localities, not being met with except near the rivers and damp
places. I did not observe them about Buenos Ayres, but found them
afterwards common dwellers about the vicinity of Mendoza, along the
bases of the Andes. The habits of the turkey-buzzard are so well known
that I will not dwell further upon them here. I have noticed that the
species seems to be tamer on the southern continent than it is on the
northern. It has the extended range of one hundred degrees of latitude.

Though somewhat repulsive from the offensive odor which it receives
from its food, this bird is one of the most useful species. As a
scavenger and remover of decaying animal matter in the tropics it is
invaluable, and it is properly protected and cared for in many cities.

At noon, April 6, we reached the mountain range that had loomed
up before us for several days, and camped at its base. The sierra
terminated in low hills, barren and destitute of verdure, save where
occasional clumps of dwarf trees grew about their bases. A little
rivulet, taking its rise in the mountains, flowed down through a deep
fissure in the soil, and afforded good water for the cattle.

We remained at this comfortable camp through the remainder of the day
and night, but started early the next morning.

The monotony of our journey was disturbed by the arrival and passing of
a troop of sixty mules loaded with little barrels of sugar and hide
bales of _yerba_ (tea). This troop was driven by six men, and was bound
to Mendoza. Like similar parties, the troop was headed by an old mare
carrying a bell, the sound of which keeps the animals from straying
away.

Though the mule is a stubborn creature, it has a very strong affection
for the _madrina_, as the mare is called, and follows her like a colt.
I have often watched two large troops approaching each other from
opposite directions, in some place where the road was very narrow, as
in a mountain defile, and have been surprised to witness the absence of
all bewilderment on the part of the animals. Though both troops were
crowded together, each mule kept with his own party, and followed the
sound of the _madrina’s_ bell, even in the darkest night.

Having wound around the point of a sierra, our caravan kept on until
dusk, when we camped for the night, supping upon beef and four
armadillos, which the peons had caught during the day in the grass.

The armadillo is a singular animal, both in appearance and mode of
living. Four species are found upon the pampas. In Buenos Ayres they
are known by the general name of _peluda_. Darwin applies this term to
a particular species--_Dasypus villosus_.

The gauchos call the female armadillo _Mulita_, which name Darwin uses
to distinguish a separate species. The male is called _Cinquizcho_.

As my readers doubtless are aware, the body of the animal is protected
by a coat of hard scales, consisting of several divisions, adapted to
the locomotion of the animal. Its head is pointed, and is scantily
clothed with little tufts of hair which grow out between the scales.
The feet and legs are short, giving the animal, when walking, a
waddling gait, similar to that of the tortoise. The toe nails are
sharp, and admirably shaped for rapid burrowing in the ground.

All the armadillos, with the exception of one species, which is
nocturnal in its habits, are diurnal, retiring to their burrows at
dusk, and coming forth at dawn to feed upon the roots of grass,
insects, worms, &c.

Their burrows do not exceed eight feet in depth. In these retreats the
female brings forth four or five young, which follow her, soon after
birth, in her journeyings upon the plains. When man approaches them,
if near a burrow, they retire into it; but when they are distant from
home they endeavor to hide in the grass until all danger is past. While
in most localities these animals were found, to the south of Rosario
and Mendoza they were very numerous. The females of one species that I
frequently met had two mammæ. I think the others had four or six.

The flesh of the armadillo is white and delicate, and has the flavor of
young pork. The peons cook the animal by dividing the two shells at the
junction, and burying the whole in hot ashes and coals, and allowing it
to bake until thoroughly done.

Darwin, in his account of these animals, says that three species of
armadillos are found in this country, while a fourth species, the
_Mulita_, does not come as far south as Bahia Blanca. Of these first
mentioned are the _Dasypus minutus_, or Pichy; the _D. villosus_,
or Peludo; and the _D. apar_, or Mataco. The Pichy is found several
hundred miles farther south than any species.

The Apar, commonly called mataco, is remarkable by having only three
movable bands, the rest of its tessellated covering being nearly
inflexible. It has the power of rolling itself into a perfect sphere,
like one kind of English wood-louse. In this state it is safe from the
attack of dogs; for the dog, not being able to take the whole in its
mouth, tries to bite one side, and the ball slips away. The smooth,
hard covering of the mataco offers a better defence than the short
spines of the hedgehog. The pichy prefers a very dry soil, and the sand
plains near the coast, where for many months it cannot taste water,
are its favorite resort. It often tries to escape notice by squatting
close to the ground. In the course of a day’s ride near Bahia Blanca
several were generally met with. The instant one was perceived it was
necessary, in order to catch it, almost to tumble off one’s horse,
for in the soft soil the animal burrowed so quickly that its hinder
quarters would almost disappear before we could alight. It seems
almost a pity to kill such nice little animals; for, as a gaucho said,
while sharpening his knife on the back of one (the gauchos often use a
portion of the armadillo’s armor for a knife hone), “_Son tan mansos_”
(they are so quiet).

Another writer informs us that the armadillos “burrow to the extent of
thirteen or fourteen feet, descending in an abruptly sloping direction
for some three or four feet, then taking a sudden bend, and inclining
slightly upward. Much of their food is procured beneath the surface of
the earth. They possess carnivorous tastes, and feed upon dead cattle,
insects, snails, snakes, as well as upon roots. The giant armadillo,
according to one writer, digs up dead bodies in the burial grounds.”

“When hunting these animals,” says Waterton, “the first point is
to ascertain if the inhabitant of the burrow is at home, which is
discovered by pushing a stick into each hole, and watching for the
egress of mosquitos. If any come out, the armadillo is in his hole. A
long rod is thrust into the burrow in order to learn its direction,
and a hole is dug in the ground to meet the end of the stick. A fresh
departure is taken from that point, the rod is again introduced, and by
dint of laborious digging the animal is at last captured. Meanwhile the
armadillo is not idle, but continues to burrow in the sand in the hopes
of escaping its persecutors. It cannot, however, dig so fast as they
can, and is at last obliged to yield.”

While we were lying behind the fire, after supper, a loud, creaking
noise in the distance announced the approach of a caravan from Mendoza.
As it drew near our dogs commenced barking, and were answered by the
mule of the captain of the caravan with a loud bray. While the concert
continued, other mules and asses took up the strain, and our camp was
“vocal with melodious sounds” as the caravan came in sight. As they
passed I counted sixteen wagons heavily laden with cargoes of hides.

A fresh breeze from the east was springing up as I lay down on my
hide amid dogs and sleeping natives, and as I dozed away, it seemed
difficult to decide which of the two was the most agreeable bedfellow;
for as it grew colder, and a sharp frost came on one dirty fellow
crowded me off my hide, and a still more filthy dog, covered with
fleas, crept under my blanket, from the shelter of which no moderate
effort of mine could remove him. At last, becoming desperate amid
dirt and flea-bites, I dislodged the intruder by a kick sharp enough
to cause him to cry out, and arouse his master Facundo, who waxed
exceedingly wrathful at such demonstrations on his dog by a “gringo.”

Early the next morning the caravan was on the march, and for an hour
our course led over high hills and across one small stream that flowed
from the sierra behind us. After crossing these hills I observed
beyond, along the bases of some low mountains, a few fields of corn
and a number of mud huts, where dwelt, in all their indolence, a party
of natives--half Indians, half Spanish, or Christians, as Don Manuel
called all his countrymen on the pampas.

As our troop trudged slowly along, some fifteen men, women, and
children followed in our track, offering to sell corn, soft cheese, and
a few loaves of bread, very small, and containing a goodly proportion
of sand. These loaves had not been baked in the ashes after the more
primitive fashion of the country still practised in many parts, but
in Egyptian-shaped ovens, built of adobes (sun-dried bricks), and
plastered within and without with mud. I purchased a sample of the
bread, which proved even tougher than the meat of the old cow, and was
not half as clean; but being a new article of food to us, it, proved
a luxury not to be despised. One woman, who exchanged corn with the
drivers for meat, presented me with nine ears of the corn. Knowing from
the experiences of the journey, that after a feast comes a fast, I hid
the corn inside a pair of boots among the rest of my baggage in one of
the wagons, and felt well armed against the hungry time that was sure
to follow.

An hour later the caravan halted. While the cattle were grazing,
overpowered by the long walk under a hot sun, I lay down to take a
short siesta, from which, on awakening, I discovered that somebody had
carried off my little stock of food.

From this occurrence I never afterwards _stored_ food, but ate whatever
came into my possession.

At dusk two well-dressed travellers, who proved to be Frenchmen, came
up to our encampment, and made inquiries regarding the road. They
reported that serious trouble had occurred near San Luis among the
farmers, the Indians having cut the throats of fourteen persons! This
intelligence caused much speculation among the drivers, and, as before,
a general gloom pervaded the whole company.

As soon as everything was arranged in camp for any emergencies that
might occur, I rolled myself up in my blanket, and soon forgot all
troubles in sleep.




                              CHAPTER X.

               FROM RIO QUARTO TO CERRO MORO--CONTINUED.


While all around me seemed to offer danger in some form, I grew
lighter at heart every day that we further penetrated the country,
for everything was novel and captivating to the fancy. I was at last
among a strange people, and their habits and mode of life, and the many
incidents that were constantly occurring, were full of interest to me.
Although my heart was light, and I trudged along cheerfully and with
courage, my companions in the caravan were but little calculated to
make the trip a pleasant one; and I must say that they did not try to
change their evidently disagreeable nature.

The rations I received from the tall Santia gueño, my “protector and
firm friend,” were selected from the toughest and driest portions of
the meat, while he devoured my living, and at the same time, at meals,
called the attention of the whole company to the unsuccessful attempts
I made at mastication.

At times, when indignation caused me to reply in no gentle terms to
their conduct, in a tongue different from theirs, I perceived my folly,
for it only served to draw out more jibes and greater insults from the
fellows.

When we were in motion, to avoid uncongenial company, I started in
advance of the troop, and kept far ahead of it. Sometimes I improved
these opportunities to brood over the ill-treatment of the men; but at
sight of a wild animal, or a gaucho pursuing a colt across the plains,
an instant revival of my spirits took place, and my whole senses were
awakened to things around me.

I usually had enough to occupy my mind; sometimes I was studying the
habits of birds or insects, at others following with my eyes the
movements of a herd of cattle, or gazing upon the mirage in the distant
horizon, in which our caravan was reflected with wonderful distinctness.

I have said that the peons had not treated me with great friendliness
lately; but since we left Rio Quarto their coolness grew more
noticeable, and at length I began to fear that we should not part
without a collision, in which case I knew I could depend on but two
people in the whole caravan, the old Indian and the woman spoken of in
a preceding chapter.

These two had always treated me kindly, while all the others had given
me uneasiness in some way or other.

Before the troop had left Rosario, my friend, Señor G., cautioned me
against showing money, and I had followed his advice, having departed
from it only on one or two occasions. When near Rio Quarto, not wishing
to be thought penurious, I had imprudently purchased more than my share
of the pumpkins and melons, which served to regale the peons at night,
when collected around the camp-fires; and this had caused the ignorant
fellows to suppose that there was _mucha plata_ (much money) in my
possession. And this was the cause of their ill-feeling towards me.

Several times they were particularly anxious to know if I had friends
in Mendoza, and who were the persons that would receive me on the
arrival of the troop in that town. I at last found it necessary to
introduce to their consideration a character as new to myself as he
was to them. One night, when we were lying around the fires, I, after
describing my home and friends, casually remarked that one of them,
a medico, the distinguished Dr. Carmel, of Mendoza, was anxiously
awaiting my arrival, and that his apprehensions for my safety would
increase until I reached the town.

To the reader whose conscience has never been subjected to violence,
this subterfuge may appear unmanly; but, in justice to myself, I was
obliged thus to impose upon the peons, and the result fully proved it.

Under Dr. Carmel’s strong (prospective) arm and influence I found more
peaceful hours, and suffered less from annoyance than if his name had
never been mentioned, or if the villanous fellows had been left in
their first belief; which at the same time was correct, that I was a
friendless _gringo_, to whom they might offer any insult without fear
of punishment. In what manner was I, a solitary stripling, to protect
myself against more than a score of barbarians, in the very heart
of a country to the languages and localities of which I was a total
stranger, unless by subterfuge?

But my troubles were not yet over.

While walking, as usual, one day, in advance of the carts, which
came slowly creaking behind, my attention was directed to Juan, the
little son of my female friend, who came running after me. Juan spoke
only broken Spanish; but upon reaching my side he commenced a voluble
discourse, which, however, I gave little notice to, supposing it to be
merely childish prattle. At length the boy took my hand, and demanded
my attention.

From what he said, I could, indeed, glean but little; but it was enough
to confirm my suspicions, which I had had for some time, that some
rascality was being planned by the drivers. From mispronounced words
and broken sentences, I received warning not to eat with the _capataz_
at the fire,--“_Sta malo no come con él_,”--and to be cautious when
with the men. Juan said that his mother had sent him to tell me this.
The little fellow was about to communicate something further regarding
his mother, when he suddenly became silent, and squeezed my hand. I
looked around, and beheld _Chico_, the servant of the _capataz_, close
upon our heels; he had stealthily approached, without attracting our
notice.

“Why do you walk?” interrogated little Juan.

To this question the swarthy Chico, half Indian, half negro, made no
answer; but he uttered a sly laugh, that meant a good deal. We walked
on for upwards of an hour, during which time the half-breed kept close
behind us.

Watching favorable opportunities, Juan informed me that the _capataz_
had sent his servant to prevent us from conversing; and seeing that he
was determined to remain by us, I at length, with the boy, rejoined the
troop.

When the caravan halted for the night, I walked over to the fire where
the China woman was seated; but two or three gauchos from our own fire
followed me, and engaged the woman in conversation.

In the aspect of affairs now, I confess I was somewhat alarmed, and
more than ever felt the want of a companion on whom I could depend. The
words of a foreign merchant, with whom I had conversed in Buenos Ayres,
were recalled most forcibly to me. “My boy,” he said, “you don’t know
whither you are going. When you get among the gauchos, you will find
much trouble and danger.” And I acknowledge that I now felt he spoke
the truth.

The men still kept the woman aloof from me. I determined to take things
coolly, and await events.

Don Manuel came to the fire late in the evening, and, taking his
meat in his hand, galloped off in the dark to see to the cattle. I
now missed Don José, the _patron_, whose protecting arm was to be my
support in danger. On inquiring of Facundo, my cook, he pointed off
into the gloom, and uttered the Spanish word “_Estancia_,” by which I
understood that the _patron_ was at some one of the great cattle-farms
lying off the road.

I now felt that I was unprotected, indeed; and when the hour arrived
for our lying down to sleep, I was uncertain as to whether or not
I should remain unmolested through the night. But the time for the
attempt on my purse, if not life, had evidently not arrived. I was
permitted to fall asleep, which I did at last; and our whole party
evidently accompanied me in my visit to the land of dreams, for nothing
was heard among us, and no one moved (if they had I would have been
awakened in an instant) until daybreak.

When the sun was just appearing above the horizon, the _capataz_ came
galloping up to the carts, and soon the word was spoken to get up the
oxen and mules, and prepare to start.

I remained in the cart to write in my journal until the ugly-visaged
Facundo appeared to inform me that my breakfast was ready. As I
approached the group that was huddled about the fire, not one of them
deigned to notice me, save one big fellow, who, with an obsequiousness
that I knew to be assumed, pointed to the breakfast.

The strips of meat had been removed from the fire, and the spit, in a
separate piece, was stuck into the ground, waiting for me. This was an
unusual attention, for I generally shared my meat with the _capataz_,
or with Facundo. The _capataz_ sat smoking by the fire, but the
_patron_ had not yet returned from the _estancia_. I offered my steak
to Don Manuel; but he courteously declined, appearing to lack appetite.
He refused a second similar offer, and continued smoking.

Determined not to be balked by him, as I wished to prove my suspicions
that mischief was afoot, I informed him that he lacked politeness,
and that I would not eat without him. The effect of my words upon the
company was of such a character that I could no longer doubt their
intentions.

At length Don Manuel, seeing that I suspected something, cut off from
the extreme edge of the steak a mouthful or two, and ate it, upon
which I cut from the opposite side a little larger piece, and ate it
leisurely. I then cut off another piece, and, pretending to eat it on
the way, left the party, and retired to the cart to finish my writing,
throwing the meat in the grass on the way.

Fifteen or twenty minutes passed, at the end of which time I was
compelled to put aside paper and pen, for a strange sensation of
weakness came upon me, rendering me unable to move--a helpless prisoner
in the cart.

Violent pains, that racked my head, were followed by strong vomitive
symptoms; but I was still helpless.

While the oxen were being harnessed, I made a second effort to leave
the cart, but I could not rise. Soon the villanous Facundo entered,
and, bidding me, in no gentle tones, to keep quiet, and not kick
around, he started his oxen, and, with the rest of the caravan, we were
again in motion.

I soon fell into a delightful sleep, and dreamed most pleasant dreams.
At one moment I was moving through the air, light, free from human
bonds, a very spirit; my whole senses were intoxicated with most
delicious sensations. Again I beheld most beautiful visions and most
gorgeous colors. At last I seemed to have been transported back to my
native village, and kind friends were grouped around me. The voice of
welcome greeted me, all trouble seemed ended. A clear, sweet voice sang
a well-remembered song, which seemed to be the very essence of melody,
so ravishingly did it fill upon my ear.

Gradually the voice grew indistinct, then loud and harsh, and I
returned to consciousness to recognize the tones of Facundo, who was
singing to himself. His discordant words were uttered in a long-drawn
cadence, commencing in a low, mournful strain, and ending with a
couplet and groans.

The following syllables will give an idea of his song. They were
repeated so many times that I shall hardly forget them:--

  “Que pur ma no yepe--_oh_--AH--OUGH.
  Ya, ke, pur, se, va, yah--_oh_--OH--AH--OUGH.”

Facundo continued groaning, either for his own pleasure or for my
discomfort, during the greater part of the time that I lay sick in the
cart.

At our first stopping-place, about two hours after breakfast, the
woman sent me, by little Juan, a tea that she had prepared from some
herbaceous plant of the pampas, to gather which she had walked all the
morning behind the carts.

I felt much better after drinking the tea, but did not entirely recover
from my sudden illness for several days. I subsequently learned that
it was not unusual for the Santia gueños to revenge a fancied insult,
or to annoy one whom they have a dislike for, by administering poison,
sometimes in sufficient quantities to destroy life, and at other times
in a quantity sufficient to produce only sickness. They had undoubtedly
taken advantage of the absence of the _patron_ to treat me as they did.

The first time I sallied forth from confinement I was received in a
characteristic manner by the drivers, who clapped their hands to their
stomachs, and questioned me with impudent gestures if I was not ill,
and what was the trouble. The good woman only said, compassionately,
“_Pobre cito_” (poor fellow).

During my sickness I continued to write daily, much to the annoyance of
Facundo, who looked threateningly at my notes, as if he suspected his
name was there. I even went so far as to ask him how he spelt his name,
which was a useless question enough; for had he been disposed to inform
me, he could not, since he knew not one letter from another.

My illness cost me but little time, and I was soon able to resume my
pedestrian journey, and by night of the same day I was nearly well.

Our journey had been through the day across a hilly country. As evening
drew near, we reached a watering-place, which afforded an abundance of
feed around it, and the caravan was halted, and camp prepared.

At supper I was cautious to eat only of the food that I saw the others
partake of, which they observing, I noticed that glances and meaning
smiles were exchanged among them.

Early the next morning we were again in motion.

The country was still broken, and we met several deep gullies, which
we crossed with great labor, it being necessary to attach extra yokes
of oxen to the carts to effect a passage. One of these gullies was so
dangerous, on account of the steepness of its sides, that a pair of
oxen were fastened behind the cart to prevent it from gaining too great
a velocity in its descent.

Near this latter pass was a five by six stone hut, roofed with
sticks and mud, which served as a post house, where the galloping
courier receives his fresh horse. Two women, with low foreheads and
heavy features, came out of the cabin, followed by an old man, the
postmaster, to stare at us, and inquire if the drivers had any sugar or
yerba to exchange with them. For what articles they proposed to barter
I could not conceive, as the open side of the hut showed an interior
destitute of everything like comfort; for it contained only an old hide
and bedding, and one cheese, that rested upon a swinging shelf made of
canes bound together with hide thongs.

Like many of the poor gauchos, the postman smoked bad Tucuman tobacco,
rolled up in a narrow piece of corn-leaf, a material that is preferred
by some to the coarse linen paper manufactured in Europe for the South
American market.

Among the hills that bounded our northern horizon, and which some
travellers would classify as mountains, the wind blows almost
constantly with great force from various quarters. The smallest of the
hills were well grassed over, and wherever the ruts entered the soil
near them it showed a sandy gravel. Upon the plains to the south was
the richer pasturage, with a soil better fitted for cultivation.

At night we encamped close by the hamlet of El Moro, situated, as I
believe, not far from the foot of Cerro Moro, a chain of low mountains.

At daylight the next morning the caravan wound down among the hills to
a level pampa, with barren mountains to the north.

The Mendoza diligence passed, drawn by six tired horses. Besides
drawing his share of the weight of the carriage, each animal carried
upon his back a postilion, who did not fail to use whip or spur as
necessity demanded.

The plain that we were upon was covered with immense piles of
decomposed granite, how placed in such positions it is difficult to
surmise. The thorn and algarroba tree grew abundantly. Our course for
the remainder of the day continued over the pampa, with hills growing
more distinct each hour in the distance: a strong wind blew steadily
from the Cerro until dark, when it died away, and a calm, lovely night
succeeded.

The following day we left the plains, and travelled through a hilly
country, which gradually became more and more irregular as we
approached the River Quinto, which stream we reached about noon, and
halted on its banks for dinner.

The country near the river was sandy, and covered with scattered
thorn-bushes. The banks of the Quinto, at the ford where we camped,
were high, and almost perpendicular. The bed of the river appeared to
be formed of quicksand in agitation, and the current was very strong. A
few mud huts were close to the river on each side, and their occupants
had a great quantity of beef cut in strips, drying for winter use,
together with sliced pumpkins, which two articles of diet form the
principal support of the people; the sterility of the soil will not
support a healthy crop of corn.

Large flocks of parrots, of a species that dig holes in the banks in
which to deposit their eggs, like our northern bank swallows (_Cotyle
riparia_), filled the air with loud cries, and gave some appearance
of life to the scene. The town of Rio Quinto was not far off; but as
the road lay in a different direction, I did not get a glimpse of
it, but, judging by the few lazy natives that I saw, who appeared
as if laboring under mental derangement, with two prominent traits
visible,--selfishness and idleness,--I did not feel that I was losing
much in not visiting the place.

Dinner over, we prepared to move. Crossing the river, we found the
ascent of the opposite bank the most difficult to surmount of any
obstacle we had met on the road; great exertions were made to get
the carts up the rise, and the oxen were most terribly goaded by the
drivers. One peon, with loud imprecations, thrust his goad into an
animal so far that it could not be withdrawn until the iron was pulled
out of the goad-stick, when the man caught it, and jerked so fiercely,
that when it came from the wound the blood followed it in a little
stream. This exhibition of brutality afforded satisfaction to the other
drivers, who laughed at the fellow as he cursed the ox for being the
cause of the breaking of his new picano. At last we were all across the
river and in motion.

The high plain upon the opposite side was covered with thorns and
algarroba, save here and there some spot more fertile than the rest,
which sustained a growth of coarse grass. In crossing this tract the
wheels of the carts sank into the deep ruts to the hubs, and raised
clouds of dust that were almost choking.

I covered myself with a woollen poncho, for I well knew that it was
doubtful if an opportunity to bathe would again present itself before
we reached San Luis, the great town of the interior. During the
afternoon a little boy passed us, driving to his house by the river a
flock of goats and sheep; the last-named animals looked very ragged,
from the custom of the people, who still adhere to the old practice of
_pulling out_ the wool from the skin instead of shearing, at such times
and in such quantities as they need it.

As the moon was a few days old, the caravan kept on until eight
o’clock, when it encamped on the travesia.

The cattle were driven a long distance from the road to feed, but no
pasturage was to be had, and at about one o’clock I was aroused by the
approach of the cattle, and the loud cries of the drivers, who shouted
“_Fuera! fuera!_” as they drove the teams to the carts.

The moon had set, and the night was very dark; but the necessity of
moving at once was obvious, for there was no water nor grass to be had
for many miles, and both must necessarily be obtained at the earliest
moment for the hungry and thirsty beasts.

We got under way at once, and travelled by landmarks with which the
drivers were acquainted. As we moved along the plain, the noise of the
caravan aroused hundreds of parrots from a roosting-place among the
branches of a clump of algarrobas. An Indian stampede could not have
created a more confused or louder noise than that of the frightened
parrots, as they hovered over us in a cloud.




                              CHAPTER XI.

                    SAN LUIS AND THE SALINE DESERT.


We travelled through the remainder of the night, and until near eleven
o’clock on the following day, when we encamped at a place in which
there was a fair pasturage and some water. Here we tarried until
the morning of the next day, when we filled our vessels with water,
harnessed up the teams, and started.

Our course lay through a country that was dreary in the extreme, and we
had no incidents or experiences that were worthy of a notice here.

My readers have found in these pages so many mentions of a certain
individual, the _capataz_, that they, perhaps, would like to know him
better.

As _capataz_, Don Manuel Montero commanded the troop when the _patron_,
or owner, was absent, and his services as _baqueano_, or guide, were
of the utmost importance to the welfare and success of the caravan.
Don Manuel had not the swarthy complexion of the Indian peons, but
could prove his superiority of birth and family in comparison to
theirs by a hue that would have been pronounced in the United States
decidedly yellow, that is, if his physiognomy could have been divested
of dirt so as to exhibit the true color; for the don loved not pure
water externally applied, and would have been but a poor patron of
hydropathy, even could he have been convinced of its wonderful virtues.
He was of middle stature, and sat with great dignity upon his pampa
steed, which he rarely left during the day; for, being a true gaucho,
he always kept the saddle except when he was eating or sleeping. These
two necessary duties he attended to while reclining on the ground--a
position that he always assumed when off duty. To sleep within a hut or
cart was beneath his gaucho dignity.

His hair hung in long black locks, excelled in jettiness only by those
of Facundo, my cook. His toilet was attended to at such times as the
same operations were necessary for the comfort of his dog Choco, when
master and animal shared the use of the same toilet articles. I might
write a treatise upon his comb, in which I could speak of its decayed
and broken parts; of its lusty and lively inhabitants that played
hide-and-seek between the teeth; of a brawny, lively creature from the
hair of Don Manuel struggling for mastery with another from the shaggy
coat of dog Choco.

As a guide the don’s skill was unrivalled. Like most _baqueanos_ he was
grave and reserved in manner, and conversed but little with the other
gauchos.

He was familiar with every mile of the road from the banks of the
Paraná to the rocky bases of the Andes. He could not, like the
geographer, tell the exact longitude, in numbers, of the principal
towns of the republic, but he knew where they were situated, and could
travel towards them without missing the true direction in the darkest
nights.

Don Manuel never offered his advice in a boisterous manner, as though
in authority, but quietly said to the _patron_, “Three leagues to the
right of the road are about thirty squares of good grass, and farther
on to the left is a small lagoon of water not yet dried up.” His word
was always respected, and the usual answer of the _patron_ was, “Do as
you please, Don Manuel; I have confidence in your judgment.”

A native author gives the following description of the _baqueano_,
which will correctly apply to Don Manuel:--

“If lost upon the plain, he dismounts, and by examining the soil
decides upon his latitude, and tells his companions the distance that
they are from habitations. If this is not enough, he pulls grass from
different localities and chews the roots, decides upon their proximity
to some pond or rivulet, fresh or salt, and departs in search of it, to
decide upon his position.

“General Rosas can tell by taste the grass of every farm south of
Buenos Ayres.

“The guide likewise announces the nearness of the enemy when within
ten miles of him, and the direction from which he is coming, by means
of the movements of birds, and by the deer and wild llamas that run
in certain directions. When the enemy is near at hand he observes the
dust, and by its thickness counts the force. He says they number two
thousand, five hundred, two hundred, as the case may be, and the chief
acts under this instruction, which is almost invariably correct.

“If the condors and vultures flutter in a circle in the air, he can
tell if there are any persons hid, or if there is an encampment
recently abandoned, or if the cause of their movements is merely a dead
animal.”

Such is the true _baqueano_, and such was Don Manuel. At noon we halted
near a couple of _cerros_, the commencement of the San Luis chain of
mountains, The peons killed an ox, but as there was no grass for the
cattle we did not remain long enough to cook an _asado_. This was the
more aggravating, since we had none of us eaten anything since the
morning of the previous day.

At two o’clock the caravan again halted--this time to water the animals
from a stream that flowed through a _quebrada_ (valley), along which
were scattered a few ranchos, whose inhabitants lived on pumpkins and
porridge, the latter being valued at one _real_ per quart. A troop
from Mendoza passed us at this encampment, and I took advantage of
the opportunity to get rid of some cut _reals_, that are current in
Rosario, for several bunches of grapes. This troop had also packed in
wicker baskets oranges and figs, a quantity of which I purchased to
divide with my friends, the old Indian and the squaw. I offered a bunch
of grapes to Facundo, but his sour disposition would not allow him to
accept.

From the river the road wound over a plain abounding in thorn trees and
cacti. Here also grew a low plant bearing red berries, and resembling
peppers in taste. The fruit was eagerly sought for by the peons, who,
throughout the remainder of the journey, seasoned their stews with it.

At the end of the plain the barren mountains of San Luis rose abruptly,
and seemed to form a barrier to farther progress. We entered a narrow
cleft in the chain, and wound through it for an eighth of a mile, the
voices of the drivers echoing among the rocks with fine effect. But
great was my surprise when we passed from the defile to an elevated
plain, to see stretched out below us the town of San Luis, with its
white plastered dwellings, half hidden, and shaded by tall rows of
poplars, and groves of green willows. It brought to mind the days of
the conquest, so finely described by Prescott, and I pictured the city
below me as another _Cuzco_, inhabited by the children of the Incas.

But this was not all. Another sight caught my eye, and filled me
with joy. Far in the distance a dim, blue line, pencilled upon the
heavens, told me that I had obtained my first view of the Andes--that
mighty range of mountains which traverses two continents and a dozen
countries, though known by different names.

What emotions were aroused within me as I gazed at that faint streak
that seemed floating in the air, for below it all was enveloped in
clouds! What visions it awoke of steep precipices, dark gorges, and
rushing streams of water falling in cascades from heights unattainable
by man! I pictured myself in the act of toiling up a narrow path, or
sliding down the sides of a _cerro_ on the snow. I longed to be there,
and wondered whether from the lofty summit of the Cordillera I should
be able yet to gaze upon the distant waters of the great Pacific.

Above the hazy line two points arose into the clearer heavens, and from
their sublime appearance particularly attracted my attention. The
highest of these peaks, which lies to the north of west of Mendoza, was
the famed Aconcagua, which, rising above the line of eternal snows,
attains an elevation of twenty-three thousand nine hundred feet: higher
by two thousand five hundred feet than that monarch of the Andes,
Chimborazo. The other peak lies to the south of Aconcagua, and runs up
sharply into the heavens. It has been measured by a recent traveller,
who gives it an elevation of twenty-two thousand four hundred and
fifty feet above the level of the sea, or not so high as Aconcagua by
fourteen hundred and fifty feet.

As I viewed the distant picture with enthusiasm, the caravan that came
lumbering behind was forgotten, until a rough shake, and the words,
“_Esta dormiendo?_” aroused my attention. Looking around I beheld the
grinning features of the _capataz_, who exclaimed, “_La Cordillera de
los Andes, que cosa tan rica!_” (The Cordillera of the Andes, what a
rich thing!)

As we descended to the town, a party of equestrians, male and female,
passed on the canter, and entered before us. The caravan encamped
alongside the mud wall that defended the property of the inhabitants,
and I remarked that the women who visited the troop did not come as
venders of produce, but as visitors. These females were gayly and
tastefully dressed, but their morals were questionable. As there were
no seats near the fire, our _capataz_ gallantly offered one of the fair
visitors his hat for a substitute; but she, with the others, preferred
their own mode of sitting, and squatted, _à la Turque_, upon the sand,
where they made themselves sociable, and when supper was ready joined
in the meal, eating their meat without knives or forks, but using their
fingers instead.

San Luis is the largest town upon the road from Rosario to Mendoza. It
is the capital of the province of the same name, and contains about two
thousand inhabitants. This place has varied greatly in its population
within the present century. In 1825 it had two churches, now it has but
one, and this, I afterwards learned, was not well supported--which fact
accounts for its being so immoral a place.

For many years San Luis had been governed by an old, ignorant fellow,
just such a man as Rosas was accustomed to place over the interior
provinces, in order that they might remain in a degraded state,
and thus be more submissive to his power. A new governor, a man of
education and energy, had taken the place of the old one just removed,
and under his influence it was hoped that the condition of the people
of the province might be improved. Formerly a tax of five dollars was
imposed upon every cart that passed through the province, but it has
been lowered to a more reasonable sum.

No town on the pampas has suffered from the depredations of Indians
as San Luis. While I was in San Juan, two or three months later, I
became acquainted with several Puntaños, as the people of this place
are called, and from them received much information regarding these
encroachments.

The Indians usually surprise the town about an hour before daybreak,
and not only seize what property they can remove, but also carry
off into captivity the wives and sisters of the male portion of the
inhabitants. While one party is engaged in sacking the town, another
party drives off all the mares they can find, as mare’s flesh is used
as food among them, and if they take horned cattle, it is only to sell
them to Chilenos, who cross the Andes by the most southern pass--the
Planchon. Great numbers of women and children have been carried off
during these frays.

There was living in San Luis, at the time our troop passed through the
place, an old woman who was stolen when a child from her friends. She
lived many years with her captors, serving them as a menial, or slave.
Twice she attempted to escape, but each time was retaken, and for both
attempts her feet were skinned by the brutal savages. She made a third
attempt, however, which was successful. Her captors were away, hunting
guanacos, a species of llama. Secreting about her person a quantity of
dried mare’s flesh, she set out for a little lake, telling the squaws
that she was going to draw water. As soon as the lake was reached she
struck out boldly into the pampas, shaping her course in the direction
of San Luis.

The Indians, fortunately, did not overtake or find her, and after many
days of wandering, she fell in with some gauchos, who took her to San
Luis, and restored her to her friends.

Another occurrence that was related to me will not be without interest
to the reader.

During the California excitement a great number of foreigners
accompanied caravans from Buenos Ayres to Mendoza, _en route_ for the
land of gold. Two or three of these caravans were troubled by the
Indians while on the passage to San Luis.

At last one troop of twenty carts, which was accompanied by a
large number of foreigners, mostly French and English, started
from Buenos Ayres, and as the men were armed with double-barrelled
guns and six-shooters, they were continually on the _qui vive_ for
an opportunity to test their weapons against the long spears and
boliadores of the Indians.

Scouts were always on the watch, but not an Indian was seen. At length,
just before they reached the mountains of San Luis, they were met by
flying horsemen and terrified women from the town, who informed them
that the savages were among the mines of La Carolina, some sixteen or
eighteen leagues to the north, and were plundering without mercy. As
the party were debating as to their proper action, the news was brought
that the Indians, harassed by a few troops sent by the governor, were
on the retreat. The caravan was at once drawn into a defile of the
mountains, and the white men prepared for action.

Soon the Indians were descried coming at a rapid rate, in one body.
Behind each savage were one or more female prisoners lashed to the
rider. “It was an awful sight,” said the narrator of the story to me,
“when we beheld the strangers point their long guns at the approaching
party, among which were our friends, bound to their relentless captors.”

Unaware of the proximity of strangers, on came the galloping party.
Suddenly they fell back in confusion, but too late for retreat, for the
discharge of nearly two hundred guns scattered death among them. In an
instant the horses were freed from their savage riders, who lay upon
the plain in the last agonies.

Great credit was given to the foreigners who had done such service to
the province; and, followed by hundreds of the natives, they marched
the carts into the plaza of San Luis, and there remained several
days, feasting daily upon eight oxen that were presented them by the
governor. My informant said that such was the skill of the strangers in
the use of fire-arms, that not a bird flew over the plaza but it was
shot while flying, much to the astonishment of the townsfolk, who will
never forget the visit of the strangers.

At San Luis de la Punta the pampas end. On the next morning, the 27th
of April, when we left the town, our course lay over a _travesia_
(desert), which was wooded, for the first few leagues, with the black
algarroba (_mata-gusano_), and many other species of low thorn trees
and bushes. The road was filled with deep ruts, and as the heavy wagons
passed along they raised clouds of dust, that made travelling an almost
insupportable task. At night the cattle had to be driven some miles
from the road to a place where a little pasture was found. We did
not eat meat during the day, but I found that many of the cacti bore
a fruit at the top, which, though nearly tasteless, was better than
nothing. Near where we encamped, three peons were loosening a patch of
land with the rough plough of the country. They were preparing to dig a
receptacle for the water that falls during the summer time, and just,
behind two or three ranchos were two of these old pools, out of which
our oxen and men drank, the _capataz_ paying six and one fourth cents
per head for each animal. The water could not have been a foot in
depth, and what kept it from soaking into the ground I could not tell,
as the soil was porous rather than clayey.

We resumed our march on the following morning without any breakfast,
and kept on until noon, when the cattle were driven to a distant
pasture, and the peons cooked an _asado_. We again watered the oxen at
another dirty pool, paying the same price per head. I was thirsty, but
before I could get at the water the cattle were crowded in the pool,
and I returned to the cart without any. Don Facundo furnished me with
a bottle to fill. I gave it to a dirty urchin, who seized a stick, and
wading into the muddy pool, drove the oxen right and left until he had
space enough left to fill the demijohn. This he succeeded in doing,
but the contents were such a mixture that, to avoid swallowing dirt,
sticks, &c., I was obliged to strain it through my teeth.

I noticed in this part of the country a species of cactus that had
previously escaped my observation. It grows about eighteen inches
high, spreads out in large, broad leaves, and is fed upon by cochineal
insects, which the natives gather, and sell at a low price. It bears
a fruit which resembles, in form and color, the pine-apple, and is
about twice the size of a hen’s egg. Inside the skin is a white pulpy
substance, filled with small black seeds, and pleasant to the taste.

The little pepperish berry became more abundant, and, taking advantage
of the opportunity, the peons put large quantities in their stews,
which rendered it so fiery to the taste that I was frequently obliged
to go supperless.

The _travesia_ which we were now upon was covered, in greater or less
quantity, with a peculiar saline mineral which was new to me. I saved
a small quantity of it, and when I returned to the United States,
presented it to a scientific, association, with the following account
of the locality in which it is found:--

“This peculiar mineral is found mixed with the soil, in greater or less
abundance, from San Luis de la Punta (a town on the western side of the
pampas of the Argentine Republic, where the grass plains properly end,
and the _travesia_, or desert, commences) to the foot of the Andes.

“San Luis lies in latitude 33° 16′ south, longitude 66° 27′ west,
and is the capital of the province of the same name. From this town
westward the soil is almost worthless, until the River Mendoza is
reached, where irrigation commences.

“The soil is very light and dry, and not in the least compact. This is
probably caused by the dryness of the atmosphere and absence of water;
for when I crossed that part of the country, no water was found save
that which had been caught and retained in holes in the ground by the
natives. Stones are rarely met with, and where they are found I did not
observe the salt.

“There are several spots on the _travesia_ between San Luis and Mendoza
furnishing a poor quality of grass, which is fed upon by the cattle
which are driven across the continent to the coast.

“With the exception of these spots the country between the above named
towns, and extending many leagues to the north and south, is a desert
waste, covered with a low growth of thorn bushes and a few species of
gnarled trees, some of which bear pods.

“The mineral penetrates the earth from a few inches to a couple of feet
in depth. It is particularly abundant at certain places east of the
town of San Juan, where the ground is covered with a thin incrustation.
It is here that the reflection of the sun’s rays is exceedingly
painful to the eyes, and the inhabitants are constantly affected with
inflammation of those organs.

“The soil for cultivation must first be prepared, and the mineral
removed. The native method of doing this is very simple. The water
is conducted from the Rivers Mendoza and San Juan (which take their
rise in the Cordillera) through an _acquia_, or canal, around squares
of level land, at irregular intervals of time, and, to use their own
expression, they wash off the _salitre_ (saltpetre). Then a plough,
constructed of two pieces of wood, is brought into service, and it
turns up from six to eight inches of the soil, which goes through the
same washing process as the first.

“After two or three repetitions of this operation, a shallow soil
is obtained, partially free from _salitre_, in which wheat, clover,
pumpkins, melons, &c., are raised. The remaining _salitre_, according
to the belief of the natives, is exhausted by successive crops, and
after several years of tillage the soil is suitable for the vine.
Oranges, peaches, quinces, olives, figs, &c., flourish. Within a few
years large tracts of land have been made exceedingly fertile by the
process above described, and could the New England plough be introduced
there, the process would be far more effective.”

The following analysis of the salt was made by Dr. A. A. Hayes, of
Boston, a gentleman well known in scientific circles for the care and
accuracy with which he conducts all analyses:--

“The specimen was a white, crystalline solid, formed by the union
of two layers of salt, as often results from the evaporation of a
saline solution, when the pellicle formed on the surface falls to the
bottom. Along the line of junction crystal facets are seen, but the
forms are indistinct. These crystals readily scratch calc spar, and
dissolve without residue in water, affording a solution, which, by
evaporation at 150° Fahr., leaves the salt with some of the original
physical characters. It readily parts with a portion of water by heat,
and when the temperature is raised to redness, it fuses quietly into
a transparent, colorless, anhydrous fluid. On cooling, an opaque,
white, crystalline solid remains. In this climate the specimen attracts
moisture, and therefore has not a fixed amount of water constituent.

“It consists of water, sulphuric acid, soda, magnesia, chlorine. Mixed
with it are traces of crenate of iron and lime, with sandy grains of
earth.

“One sample afforded--

  Water,           16.420
  Sulphuric acid,  49.658
  Soda,            23.758
  Magnesia,         9.904
  Chlorine,          .260
                  -------
                  100.000

“Three fragments from different masses were taken, and the following
substances found:--

  Water,                   16.42   18.84   19.60
  Sulphate of soda,        48.00   45.82   45.74
      ”     ”  magnesia,   34.20   33.19   33.31
  Chloride sodium,          1.21    1.79    1.16
  Crenates lime and iron}
    with silicic acid,  }   0.17    0.30    0.13
  Sand,                             0.06    0.06
                          ------  ------  ------
                          100.00  100.00  100.00


“The varying amounts of water given are illustrative of the absorptive
power of the salts in the atmosphere of this place. Dried at 90° Fahr.,
the amount of water was 15.20 in 100 parts, which exceeds by four
parts the proportion necessary to form proto-hydrates of the two salts
present.

“Analysis does not show the two sulphates to be in definite proportions
in the masses, but the crystals may be a double salt, composed of
one equivalent of sulphate of soda and one equivalent of sulphate
of magnesia, each retaining an equivalent of water. In the masses,
the closest approximation is 42 parts of sulphate of magnesia found,
instead of 46 parts required.”

The communication presented embraces interesting facts. These saline
deserts cover extended areas in different parts of South America,
and, so far as the author has been able to learn, the saline matter
differs in kind at the different points. The tendency of saline matter
contained in any soil is to rise through the aid of moisture to the
surface, where, the water escaping, the salt is deposited. This effect,
contrary to the gravitating influence, is the most common cause of
deserts, and may be exerted everywhere when the evaporation of water
from a given surface becomes much greater than that surface receives
in the form of rain and dew. The cultivation of saline deserts, by
washing down the saline matter, exhibits the opposite action of water
in restoring fertility, and it is by no means essential that the water
should contain organic, matter to insure the full effect, as the soil
of deserts generally contains all the organic matter of many years’
accumulation.

An interesting inquiry naturally presents itself to the traveller while
crossing this peculiar desert. By what means was the salt deposited?
Two theories have been advanced by gentlemen who have visited the
_travesia_, both to account for its presence.

Mr. Bland, the North American Commissioner, who visited the Argentine
Republic in 1818, thinks that these plains “may have been gently lifted
just above the level of the ocean, and left with a surface so unbroken
and flat as not yet to have been sufficiently purified of its salt and
acid matter, either by filtration or washing.”

Sir W. Parish’s idea of the origin of the salt is different. He
says, “But is it not more likely to have been washed down from the
secondary strata, which form the base of the Andes, in which we know
that enormous beds of salt abound, particularly in those parts of
the Cordillera where the greater number of the rivers rise which run
through the pampas, and which are almost all more or less impregnated
with it?”

While crossing the pampas I occasionally noticed that the water of some
of the streams was brackish, but as we approached the Andes the water
of the rivers was pure, and free from salt. The San Juan and Mendoza
Rivers, both of which may be called great torrents, bring down alluvial
mud in their currents; but I never was able to detect any saline
properties either in the mud or water. The natives, however, have
assured me that there are many salt mines in the Andes.




                             CHAPTER XII.

                           ON THE TRAVESIA.


On the 28th of April our caravan crossed the River Desaguadero, and
upon the western bank the peons killed an ox, and we ate for the first
time since the morning of the previous day. At noon we reached the
limits of artificial irrigation, which is carried on extensively in the
neighborhood of Mendoza. Along the road ran a shallow ditch, four feet
wide, and containing about two inches of water, which, when the canal
is full, fertilizes the soil in the vicinity.

Beyond the Desaguadero, forty leagues from Mendoza, lay the hamlet of
La Paz, upon the outskirts of which we encamped for the night. Very
different was this hamlet from the others we had passed, which looked
old and squalid, the houses seeming ready to crumble in pieces, and
little vegetation, save in San Luis, was to be seen. Here everything
looked neat, and a degree of comfort prevailed that was refreshing
to the eye of the traveller who had just crossed a dreary country.
This comfortable and fresh appearance was the result of irrigation,
for very little rain falls on this great travesia, which covers many
thousand miles of territory in the provinces of San Luis, Mendoza, and
San Juan; and wherever the water of rivers can be turned from their
natural course to fertilize the broad waste lands, there little spots
of verdure appear, and the labor of the farmer is crowned with success.

The whole township of La Paz was divided into square pastures, around
which ran a wide canal. Along the borders of these grew tall poplars,
that served to fence in and protect the herds of cattle that had been
brought from San Luis to fatten on _alfalfa_, a species of clover. Our
_patron_ was so parsimonious that he refused to purchase good pasturage
for the cattle, which were growing weaker each day on miserable fare,
but ordered the _capataz_ to drive them to a piece of waste land, upon
which grew a scanty supply of dry grass.

The next day we encamped a few leagues beyond the village, where
I bought, and shared with the peons, a couple of pumpkins, some
coarse bread, and a quantity of dried figs, that had been brought
from Mendoza. Our road the next day led through woods of thorns and
algarrobas, and occasionally over an open plain.

Just before dark we had a fine view of the distant Andes, which were
now distinctly visible. The most lofty peaks were covered with snow,
although in many places dark lines showed where the rocks remained yet
uncovered.

The wind blew direct from the west, and coming from the snowy
mountains, was very chilly. All night I turned and rolled upon my hide
in great discomfort from the cold that benumbed my limbs. On the next
day, May 1st, the peons stopped to kill an ox close to Las Casitis, a
village larger and better than the last one we passed three days before.

While the troop rested, a broad-faced, good-looking fellow beckoned
from over a fence of thorns and cornstalks for me to come and dine
with him. I accepted his kind invitation, and he showed me his hut and
grounds; the former was built of cornstalks, and was well thatched.

Upon the rafters, that projected, and formed a platform outside the
hut, were piles of dried pumpkins, melons, &c.

He informed me that he had commenced improving the land one year
before, and by hard labor, he, together with his wife and children, had
a home, and were more plentifully supplied with the comforts of life
than any other rancho on the road between Rosario and Mendoza.

The canal that ran past his hut watered beds of onions, beans, garlic,
and many other vegetables not often found on the road.

His wife, a dark-complexioned woman, with “_para servir à vd_,”
welcomed me to their cabin, and spread upon a trunk of an algarroba
a small piece of white cloth, and upon this placed a dish containing
a stew of beans, onions, corn, and meat, well-seasoned with garlic.
They would not receive anything for their kindness, but when I left
presented me with a fine pumpkin, which I in turn gave to the peons.

From this place we travelled very slowly until four o’clock, when we
halted to feed the oxen. The peons, though they had eaten heartily
three hours before, roasted large slices of meat, and ate a quantity
during the next half hour that would have astonished the followers of
Graham. These people can go without eating for an astonishing length of
time; but when an opportunity offers for gormandizing, they will rival
Claudius Albinus himself. I dare not mention how many steaks, each
averaging two pounds, Facundo could devour in a day; nor should I wish
to state that he thought nothing of eating three pumpkins at a single
meal.

At dusk the creaking of wheels and loud cries of men announced that
a troop from Mendoza was approaching, and a young man came galloping
in advance, and greeted our _patron_ as an old acquaintance. The oxen
of the troop, fresh from Mendoza, contrasted strangely with our lean
animals, some of which could scarcely walk.

The next morning we were on the road very early, for it now became
evident that unless our journey was soon terminated our cattle would
give out; and the carts thus situated would be in an unlucky situation.

The next town was Santa Rosa, once the headquarters of the Jesuits, who
held religious sway over all the pampa territories when the country was
under the control of Spain.

The place was nothing more than a collection of mud huts and corn
ranches. The inhabitants, however, supported a small store.

The only signs of life in the hamlet were from a party of women
weaving, and two or three half-Indian girls chasing a flock of goats
and sheep. The country around the place was covered with low bushes,
and, judging by appearances, I concluded that the place had seen its
best days. Many poor families were supported by a flock of twenty or
thirty goats and sheep, the latter providing sufficient wool, from
which their garments were made; and as the goats breed twice a year,
they had plenty of animal food to satisfy their wants. Beyond this
place our caravan entered a straight, broad road, shaded with tall
poplars, which were planted in regular rows on each side of the street,
and afforded a pleasant shade for the traveller.

Following the road for two or three miles, we encamped for the night
in Alto Verde, where were the best houses seen by us since leaving
Rosario. The frames were of poplar, and were well put together, the
roof projecting sufficiently to form a veranda. All articles of food
were cheaper here than at any of the towns passed by our troop. Three
or four large watermelons were given for a medio (6¹⁄₄ cents), and two
loaves of bread for the same amount of money.

During the day following we passed scattered houses, and large pastures
of _alfalfa_, separated from each other by fences of growing poplars.
Our _patron_, now felt compelled to purchase fodder for the oxen, and
he obtained the privilege of pasturing them for the night, and until
the day following, for three dollars; which, considering the number of
animals (over one hundred), was a very small sum.

As we encamped in the highway, we were disturbed in our slumbers all
the night by the numerous troops of mules and racing gauchos who were
continually passing and repassing, while flocks of wild fowl flew over
our carts, shaping their course to the south. The following morning
we reached Villa Nueva. The roads were very sandy, which gave great
trouble to the oxen. Before taking our last meal we halted for the
night.

On the next morning we started very early, following a lonely road,
without seeing a rancho. About noon we crossed the River Mendoza,
which, at the place of crossing, was narrow, with a current setting to
the northward. I had some difficulty in effecting a passage without
getting wet.

While the carts were forming a double line, and commencing other
preparations for halting, I disrobed, and, under cover of some stunted
bushes, bathed in the cold stream.

This was the third bath that I had enjoyed since leaving Rosario. The
peons laughed derisively at a gringo who could not travel eight hundred
miles without washing himself. These disgusting fellows, with one or
two exceptions, had not applied water to their skin for more than forty
days, and did not intend to cleanse themselves until the troop was
close upon Mendoza.

From a few mud houses beyond a rising ground, not far from the river,
came several men and women, bringing peaches and melons in their
ponchos, together with baskets of native manufacture, filled with
two kinds of grapes, one variety of which was the white Muscatel. At
different points near this river my attention had been attracted by a
disease very prevalent among the people, which exhibited itself in the
form of a large swelling upon the throat, and was called by the natives
the _coté_ (goitre).

One poor fellow, who had a very large _coté_, informed me that it was
caused by drinking the water of the stream, and that large swellings
had come out upon his thighs, from laboring several weeks in the water.

A young cow that had been purchased on the road was the only tender
meat that we had eaten since leaving Rosario. The peons gorged
themselves until they could eat no more, and ate, perhaps, more than
they would have done had not the _patron_ been absent; he had gone to
Mendoza in order to advertise in the only paper in the province that
his troop would make its _entrée_ into the Plaza Nueva on the following
day.

Owing to our proximity to the great town, several of the Santia
gueños changed their minds about ablutions, and busied themselves in
making preparations for the _entrée_. I watched their movements with
considerable interest, for in making their toilet the comb of Don
Manuel passed around the group, and received generous patronage, the
little dog that belonged to my friend and the woman coming in for their
share of its use.

The ball having once been set in motion, the excitement to appear
neat became so great that some of the peons actually shook the dust
out of their _chiropas_, and put on clean drawers, that had been long
kept for some great occasion. While the men beat their ponchos upon
the wagon-wheels, the woman entered a cart to make her toilet; and
so changed was her appearance an hour after, when she appeared clad
in a new calico dress, with her hair neatly plaited in two braids,
after the fashion, formerly, of young girls in our own country, that I
involuntarily raised my sombrero, which attention she very pleasantly
acknowledged. But, as is usually the case with mothers, she had
expended the principal part of her labor and finery upon her little
girl, whose appearance had been greatly improved.

            [Illustration: THE CARAVAN AT REST.--Page 182.]

An hour before she had run along the banks of the river barefooted, and
with hair streaming in the wind; but now, with hair smoothly combed,
and little body decked out in a gay tunic, her black eyes sparkling
with fun, she seemed to have been transformed from a wild Indian girl
into an interesting little lady.

After again eating, the troop moved on until sunset, passing several
dilapidated houses, and two or three dirty _pulperias_ (stores). Our
camping-ground proved to be a bad selection, as it was on a low plain,
part morass, and covered with tall weeds. The peons tried to compel
me to fill the jars with water at a pond, the direction of which they
pointed out to me in the dark; but I informed them, through a little
fellow that spoke Spanish, that, as I was aware of our proximity
to Mendoza, all further orders from them would be disregarded.
Furthermore, I stated that there were people in the town which we
were soon to enter who could converse equally well in English and in
Spanish, and if they, the peons, attempted any more insulting acts, the
matter would be exposed. This answer they evidently did not relish, for
they became very angry, and conversed among themselves in their own
language, evidently making threats of some kind against me.

Before retiring, I conversed with the old Indian, who was my friend,
and he promised to receive my little property, snugly packed in a
canvas bag, into his cart.

The night passed without any incident, and when daylight came we were
already on the march. As the troop was not to enter the town until
the following morning, I partook of an _asado_ for the last time,
and, discarding my pampa costume, and dressing after the fashion of
civilized men, I set out in advance of the company for Mendoza, which
was twelve miles distant. The whole plain, over which our road lay, was
covered with a curious bush, growing in clumps from three to six feet
in height, and bearing a yellow pod, resembling in shape a screw. The
houses that were scattered along the road were built in the old Spanish
style. When within three or four miles of the town, a continuous line
of buildings commenced, which was broken only by green pastures of
_alfalfa_, surrounded by mud walls and extensive vineyards, the vines
of which bent to the ground from the weight of the fruit they bore.

Upon the walls of the houses, suspended from canes, hung, drying in the
sun, bunches of the fruit just mentioned; and, seeing a great number
of casks and barrels in almost every yard, I judged that each farmer
manufactured his own wine.

Oranges, lemons, limes, peaches, and olives were everywhere abundant,
while occasionally the eye rested with pleasure upon a pomegranate, or
palm-tree.

Within the yards, surrounded by high enclosures, were piles of melons
and pumpkins; and ranges of jars, filled with olives just stripped from
the trees, stood beneath the verandas of the houses.

The people seemed very hospitable. Twice the proprietors of different
_quintas_ came out, and persuaded me to enter their residences and
partake of food, saying that everything they possessed was at my
disposal, and that the foreigners received their great respect.

“How knew you that I was a foreigner?” I asked.

“By your countenance and your walk,” was the reply.

An old man detained me a long time to inquire the prices of North
American goods.

“What is the value of this article in your country?” he asked, holding
up to my view a cheap earthen mug.

“About a medio,” I replied.

“What rogues!” he exclaimed. “In Mendoza they charged me three times
that sum. Tell me, friend, why did you neglect to bring some with you?
You would have been a rich man soon.”

The day was the Sabbath, which is regarded as a holiday in this
country. The _pulperias_ by the roadside were thronged by the gauchos,
some gambling, and others dancing to the sound of the guitar, while
a few lay drunk upon the ground. About two o’clock, after leaping
several streams of water that ran along the streets, I entered Mendoza,
and, after many unsuccessful inquiries, found myself in the _calle de
comercio_, where I luckily met with a Frenchman who spoke a little
English, and to him made known my wishes regarding my proposed journey
across the Andes to Chili.

The Frenchman informed me that an English physician, Dr. D., who had
resided several years in Mendoza, and had ingratiated himself into the
favor of the government, was just the person to apply to, as he could
give me any information relative to the Chili road. At the moment the
doctor himself came up, mounted upon a fine horse, and returning from a
visit to the country.

I handed him the letters given me by Mr. Graham, and inquired if
either of the two persons to whom they were directed were in Mendoza;
he returned them to me, rather brusquely saying that _he_ was not an
_American_ physician; and as for Mr. Allen Campbell, he had left
two months ago for Santa Fé. In as delicate a manner as possible, I
informed Dr. D. of my object in visiting his adopted country; that I
was a stranger, and unacquainted with the language, and hinted that if
some person conversant with the dialect would make inquiries regarding
troops of mules that might be leaving for Chili, he would be doing me a
favor that I could not too highly appreciate. To this the doctor drew
himself up stiffly, and replied, impatiently,--

“If you wish to cross to Chili, the only method of procuring necessary
information is to inquire of the native merchants, who often send
troops across the Cordillera. According to the last accounts the
mountains were passable, though the Chili mail has not yet arrived.”

I answered, “Doctor, I am unacquainted with the language, save the
little I have acquired upon the road; and if several days are lost by
me in fruitless inquiry, the mountains will be closed, and I shall be
obliged to remain here for the next six months.”

“Very well,” he answered, touching his horse at the same time with his
silver spurs. “It is only among the merchants that you will receive the
information.” And he was soon out of sight.

The Frenchman, who had been a listener to the conversation, exclaimed,
energetically, “Vat a tam fool! He might speak one word, and find
plentee mules going to Chili: he much puffed up with practeese. Come to
my home, and I will find you a troop of mules to-morrow. I loves the
Americans; they is tam goot fellows!”

On our way to his lodgings, my new acquaintance suddenly remembered
that there was a party of North Americans in town, and at my request he
led me to their house. They were professional gentlemen, my guide said,
but of what particular branch of science he could not tell. Never was
I more surprised than when the Frenchman introduced me to four young
men, whose flag, as it waved above their house, announced them as the
Circo Olimpico (Olympic Circus), from North America. The director of
the company, Mr. Daniel H., of Utica, New York, had left the States for
Mexico thirteen years before, and was with the American army through
the war between the two republics.

After peace had been established, he freighted a small vessel, and,
landing upon the northern coast of South America, had since travelled
over nearly all the countries of the continent.

Of the original number that left with him, he was the only survivor. As
soon as one performer had died, or retired from the profession, some
strolling _provistero_ was always found to fill the vacancy.

While the company travelled in the upper countries of Bolivia, Peru,
New Granada, and Ecuador, success followed them; for silver is more
plenty among the middle and poorer classes of those republics that
abound in rich mines than in the Argentine Republic. Here their good
fortune deserted them. They had crossed over the vast pampa country,
and, by giving here and there a _granfuncion_, had taken money enough
to enable them to reach Mendoza. Mr. H. informed me that he should
follow along the sierras of the Andes, and cross the great travesia
that covers several of the upper provinces, until he reached Potosi,
and from Bolivia the company would cross the Cordillera to Peru, where
better luck would surely meet them.

Being the latest arrival from North America, I had to answer many
questions, as they had not heard from that country since leaving the
Paraná, twelve months before. At dusk a negro band played an air that
was very popular in the United States nine years before. With all the
facilities of communication that exist between the two countries, the
song and accompanying music had just reached Mendoza, a town supposed
by its inhabitants to be first in the scale of civilization and
refinement.

The following morning I visited the Plaza Nueva, where the carts of
our caravan were discharging their cargoes, and received from the old
Indian my bag.

We parted pleasantly, and I only regretted that my present to him could
not have been as great, proportionately, as my regard for him. The
_patron_ and _capataz_ commended me to the care of my Maker, and wished
that many years might be added to my life, to which civil speech I made
an appropriate reply. As for the peons, they said nothing, nor even
comforted me with a single glance or nod of good feeling.




                             CHAPTER XIII.

                               MENDOZA.


Two or three days were passed in inquiring for a troop of mules
bound for Chili, but no information could be obtained of any, and I
afterwards learned that the last troop of the season had left Mendoza
on the day after my arrival, and had barely succeeded in reaching Chili
with their lives.

For twenty-one days the Andes were enveloped in clouds, the dark and
portentous appearance of which was terrible to behold. I passed hours
of each day in watching the fierce _temporales_, as the natives called
them, that came rolling along the summit of the sierras from the
regions of Cape Horn, covering, in their mad career, whole ranges of
mountains in a mantle of snow. To have attempted a passage at that time
would have been certain death; so with all the philosophy that could be
drawn from irremediable disappointment, I became resigned to my fate to
remain in the interior of the country until the genial sun of another
spring should melt the snow-drifts that blocked up the passes of the
Andes.

The old Spanish town of Mendoza is situated in latitude 32° 51′
south, longitude 67° 57′ west, at the foot of the eastern declivity
of the Andes. It was laid out in _cuadras_, or squares, the sides
of which were one hundred and fifty yards long. It contained, at the
time of my visit, nearly ten thousand inhabitants. Of the two plazas
the Independence was the most celebrated, because of the fountain
it contained. This fountain, however, was dry when I was there, the
aqueduct having become choked with leaves and stones; it had been
permitted to remain in this useless state for some time, and I was of
the opinion that it would still continue dry, as no attempt was made to
clear it out, and no plan was discussed by which it might in the future
be again in operation.

The _Alameda_, a much-talked-of public walk on the side of the town
nearest the mountains, was resorted to by all classes. An artificial
canal flowed beside the principal walk, watering a row of fine poplars,
beneath which were a few stone seats, where I often sat and watched the
different classes of the Mendozinos promenading after the _siesta_.

In a little mud hut, kept by a Chilino, I was surprised to find a
luxury not often met with in southern countries. Ice was brought from
the mountains on mules, and the inhabitants were enabled to enjoy their
creams at a trifling expense. It was in the _Alameda_ that I sometimes
had a glimpse of the governor of the province of Mendoza--Don Pedro
Pascual Segura. He was a man small in stature, and this characteristic
seemed to be general in the different traits of his character, for he
was of little energy, and had, consequently, little of the rascality
of his predecessors. He was literally small in everything, as the
following incident will show.

The Mendoza band belonged to the government, and Don Pedro had disposed
of their services by contract, for a certain sum of money, to the
theatrical company of Señor Rodenas, who had established himself in
the town a short time before my arrival. The North American Circus
Company came into the place soon after, and the director presented the
governor his compliments and a season ticket to the performances. As
the circus company wished to perform on the same evening as the company
of Señor Rodenas, and by so doing could not obtain the services of the
band, the governor, without further ceremony, broke the contract with
the theatre, and ordered half the musicians to the house of the North
Americans. This unjust act greatly injured the native performers, who
were poor, and had but just arrived from a distant part of the country.

The houses of Mendoza were one story high, and, unlike those of
Buenos Ayres, were built of _adobes_, which were covered with mud and
whitewashed. These, like the dwellings of that city, had a dreary,
prison-like appearance. The _patio_, or yard, was in the centre of
the building, and was accessible by a large, heavy door, called the
_puerto-calle_. A door from each room opened into the yard, where,
in the summer months, the household, including servants, usually
slept, for the climate near the mountains has not the heavy dews of
the pampas. The roofs were generally of mud, plastered upon canes,
bound together by strips of hide, which rested upon a rough frame of
willow, poplar, and a hard kind of wood resembling the _algarroba_. The
_adobes_ were made near the spot where the building was to be erected
when sufficient material could be procured. Mud, trodden fine by horses
and mixed with straw, was placed in moulds about twenty by eight
inches, and four or five deep, and, after being removed, the adobe was
allowed to dry in the sun’s heat for two or three weeks. Outside the
town a rough, square brick was made, which served to floor the houses
of the rich, and was covered by a carpet of European manufacture.

The town, at the time of my visit, was liberally supplied with
churches, and had a convent. The priests bore a much better character
than those of the northern countries of the continent, as in most
places where Catholicism exists they have a strong influence over
the lower classes, and fill the narrow streets of the town with
processions, much to the annoyance of every one who is obliged to
kneel uncovered as they pass along. One foreigner told me that when
he entered the place for the first time, he halted his horse in the
plaza, through which a crowd of people were hurrying with lighted
candles and crucifixes. The priest observing that he did not recognize,
by humiliating himself, the respect due them, sent a vigilante, who
threatened to run him through with the bayonet if he did not dismount
from his horse and kneel upon the ground. There being no protecting
power nearer than Buenos Ayres, or Santiago in Chili, a foreigner must
go through these debasing forms, do homage to man, or feel the point of
the bayonet or sword, “for there is no protection for _gringos_ in the
provinces north and west of Buenos Ayres.”

This I had told me more than once by officers of the government of
this republic that pretends to copy the principles that have been
expounded by Washington, Jefferson, Adams, and Lafayette. I always kept
a bright lookout when abroad, and the instant the shaven heads of the
good fathers appeared I turned the first corner, and stopped not until
two squares were between us.

At a certain season of the year a mock Christ was crucified by the
priests. The deluded people, believing it to be the true Savior, wept
as they beat their breasts, and cried out with compassion. At these and
other services of the church, as the mass and vesper prayer, the men
formed a very small portion of the congregation, but the women were
constant attendants, and were continually at the confessional.

One young lady with whom I was acquainted made it a rule to confess
three times a week. This she continued to do for the space of one
year, when good Father Maximo became so weary of her appearance or of
her sins, that he told her to come once in seven days, and he would
pardon the whole at once. Every morning the early riser met with little
parties of females returning from early mass, chatting pleasantly as
they proceeded to their homes. Each female who could afford it had a
servant, who followed behind with an _alfombra_ (mat), upon which the
lady sat while in church. The children always went on before, that they
might be under the eye of the matron who watched them, particularly if
they were young ladies, with a degree of vigilance equal to that of the
dueñazas of old Spain.

While speaking of churches and church-goers I will not omit mentioning
a few facts relative to one Padre A. and his family, whose fame is
wide-spread in the other provinces of the republic. This A. was a
priest in the church of San Domingo, and, breaking his vow, acquainted
Rosas with the thoughts and actions of those who had unbosomed
themselves to him.

His villanous character began to show itself, and throwing aside the
padre’s cloak, he took the sword, and became one of the bloodiest
generals that Mendoza had ever supported. His deeds of cruelty made him
known throughout the country. His family, which had, during his career,
enjoyed a notoriety, sank into obscurity after his death.

Several years since, a daughter of the padre, who had distinguished
herself for her licentious conduct, performed a journey, in company
with her sister and another young lady,--all wild girls,--that proved
no less disastrous than it was foolish in design.

The three girls, attired in gaucho costume, set out on horseback, and
_not_ with side-saddles, to cross the Cordillera of the Andes. The trip
was successful. They entered Chili without meeting any obstacle to mar
their happiness, and after having passed a few weeks with friends,
started to return to the Argentine Republic. The guides warned them
of coming _temporales_, but they had tarried from home too long to
protract their stay; perhaps to be obliged to remain in Chili until the
winter’s snows were gone. They entered the mountains, and somewhere
near the Cumbre pass, a storm broke upon them, and only two of the
females escaped with their lives.

Each church in Mendoza had several bells, which were far from
melodious, having a tinkling sound, and the manner in which they
were rung reminded me of our national air. But the people were well
satisfied with these discordant sounds, and one of the priests, who
had returned from a visit to England, on being asked how he liked that
country, replied,--

“England is a fine country, superior to ours in everything save
one--the English do not know how to chime their bells.”

A theatre of two stories in height had been built under the supervision
and at the expense of a certain “scientific gentleman,” and though the
building was but a whitewashed structure, it raised the gentleman to
enviable fame. He was pointed out to me as a profound man, a geologist
and astronomer, and furthermore the government would not raise a wall
or dig an _acquia_ without first consulting Don Carlos’s opinion.
Though a native of the country, he assumed to be an Italian, but
did not succeed in convincing the people to that effect when I left
Mendoza. I was told that the don had acquired his principal knowledge
of engineering, &c., while assisting Lieutenant Archibald Macrae, of
the United States Naval Astronomical Expedition, two or three years
before, in taking the altitudes of certain places in the Andes. Don
Carlos occasionally turned aside from his researches in science, and
amused himself, or became the amuser of the more talented portion of
the Mendozinos. Once he collected an eager crowd of people by mounting
the roof of a house, and pretending, by means of the needle of the
compass, to determine the course and distance of a comet, which,
with fiery tail, looked so ominously as to cause many of the gaucho
population to believe that the town was about to be destroyed.

I was convinced that the Mendozinos were the most peaceable and
hospitable people of the republic, and showed more respect to
foreigners than was customary where the old dogmas and customs of the
Spanish prevailed. I could not perceive any difference between the
higher classes of this town and those of Buenos Ayres in the matter of
complexion.

They had as light skins as any Spaniard that I had met in the last
named city, and generally retained the purity of blood. The lower
classes differed, however. They were of every type that exists in the
republic west of Paraná and south of latitude 28°, being composed of
peons of the different provinces, while the blood of the Indian and
negro courses through the veins of many. They were very immoral and
exceedingly ignorant, but were kind-hearted and courteous to strangers.
Much time was wasted in dancing and other frivolous amusements. The
females of all grades embroidered with skill, and showed great taste in
the selection of their patterns. The bonnet was not worn, but a shawl,
covering the head and falling gracefully about the form, supplied its
place, the temperature being so mild and uniform that no warmer head
covering was needed.

I noticed that the ladies painted their cheeks in an extravagant
manner; a custom that we should not suppose would have gained entrance
to such an isolated place. In San Juan, one hundred and fifty miles
to the north, I saw nothing of this, and was told that it was of rare
occurrence.

Mendoza was a very healthy place at the time I was there. I learned
that many persons, troubled with complaints that usually end in
consumption, after residing there a few years were restored to health.

But there was one form of disease which was said by the physicians to
be incurable, and which in our own country would lead to a desertion of
the site.

This was the goitre of the medical fraternity, and, as I have before
mentioned, is known among the people as the _coté_. The disease
appeared in the form of a large swelling on the throat, which was
caused by the mineral qualities of the River Mendoza.[3] The canals
that supplied the citizens of the town ran through nearly every street,
and each family procured their water from them.

The richer portion of the inhabitants had filters, or drip-stones,
through which the water was allowed to pass, and become free from all
vegetable matter. Now the question presented itself to me, Did the
water, in passing through the fine drip-stone, rid itself of any of
its mineral properties? and I was led to the opinion that it did, from
noticing the fact that the richer classes, having their water thus
filtrated, were rarely troubled with the goitre, while the poor people,
who drank from the canal itself, presented the disease in all its forms
upon them. In fact, the goitre seemed to be a part of their person,
for every sixth or seventh female, and now and then a man, that I met
during a morning walk, exhibited the disagreeable symptoms.

At San Vicente, a small village, four miles from the town, the goitre
could be examined in all its forms; “for,” said an individual to me
while in Mendoza, “I fully believe that every fourth woman in the place
is affected by it.” It was not a rare thing to see a large swelling
on both sides of the throat, so large as to be absolutely disgusting.
There was in the neighborhood of Mendoza a spring of fine water, but
only a few of the citizens took advantage of its existence.

Mendoza had, when I was there, a good school for the instruction of
the young, who, like most creoles, acquired knowledge very quickly.
A young Englishman was at the head of the establishment, and in all
respects the school seemed prospering. Besides the school there was a
public library containing three or four thousand volumes, which, if
consulted, could not fail to be of benefit to the inhabitants, who were
extremely ignorant of things unconnected with their immediate vicinity.
The people had recently started a newspaper, “El Constitucional,”
and, judging by the pompous leaders of the gentleman who occupied the
editorial chair, a stranger would have been led to believe that Mendoza
was the greatest and most important city on the globe.

For their press, types, etc., they were indebted to Mr. Vansice,
formerly of Utica, N. Y., who came to this country several years
before, and by his energy became of great assistance to the government
of the province. He remodelled many old forms, and liberalized the
ideas of the people to such an extent that they encouraged him to
revisit North America, and obtain many articles, the introduction
of which have facilitated the different kinds of labor in which the
people were engaged; and following out this plan to a greater
extent, a company was forming, the object of which was to send to the
United States for machines, tools, &c. Mr. Vansice furnished two other
provinces, also, with printing materials, and used all possible effort
to establish a public press on a substantial basis.

     [Illustration: PATAGONIANS. (From a Photograph.)--Page 207.]

After filling offices of dignity and honor, he retired to the miserable
little village of San José del Moro, where he resided with his native
wife, carrying on a profitable business in English goods, which were
brought from Valparaiso.

While I was in Mendoza, the celebration and festivities of the 25th
of May, the independence day of the republic, took place, and were
celebrated with unusual enthusiasm. For several days previous the
people were engaged in preparing for the festivities, though not half
of the lower classes knew for what reason the celebration was made, so
ignorant were they of their country’s history. The government, for one
hundred dollars, secured the services of the North American performers,
and under their direction a ring of adobes was constructed in the
centre of the plaza, and close beside it a rostrum for the governor,
his suite, and the musicians. The news of the _granfuncion_ that was
to take place spread far into the country, and three days prior to
the 25th the gauchos came galloping into town from all parts of the
province. At sunrise, on the great day, I visited the plaza in which
the populace was pouring, the whole forming a most picturesque scene.

Gauchos, gayly attired, were mounted upon horses decked out with silver
ornaments, and tails braided with ribbons, and galloping about in
little parties. Some farmers came into town, accompanied by their wives
and daughters, and it was no uncommon thing to see two women, each
with a child in her arms, riding on the same horse with a man. At such
galas one sees a degree of life and animation not to be met with at
other times; for, as soon as the festival is over, the people sink into
a most indolent state, and remain so until the next _dia de fiesta_
arouses them to life and action.

The school-boys sang the national hymn, and the governor swore to
support the constitution, after which a military review took place. The
several companies, as they marched around the plaza, were preceded by a
trumpeter, who blew terrific blasts as the occasion required. All the
foot soldiers carried old English muskets, the cavalry being armed with
short carbines or lances.

Two cannon, the only pieces of artillery in the province, were drawn
by foot-soldiers, dressed, like the others, in white pantaloons
and jackets, and from beneath the former hung the frill of the
gaucho drawers. While the review was taking place, the bells of all
the churches were pealing in their usual manner, and rockets were
constantly sent off though the sun shone brightly, which, of course,
did not heighten the pyrotechnic display. Nearly every house showed a
flag, and among them I observed the English colors floating from the
house of the courteous (?) English physician.

During the day many of the gauchos attempted to climb a greased pole
erected in the plaza, upon the top of which money had been placed; but
not one succeeded in gaining the coveted prize. The only decoration in
the plaza was a hexagonal figure, resembling a Chinese lantern, and
covered with white cloth. Upon each side was painted a figure, one of
Liberty, one of Justice, and another, a portrait of General Urquiza and
our own Washington, side by side.

The stand was decorated with the flags of the South American republics,
and the only foreign one was that of the United States, which floated
over the figure of Washington, beside which was a quotation from one of
his speeches delivered to the American people.

The circus performance passed off to the delight of all, and the
equestrians who could so skilfully perform upon a galloping horse were
declared by the gauchos to have been trained for the occasion by his
satanic majesty.

Just after the 25th, the Mendozinos were thrown into a great excitement
by the announcement that a cacique, attended by fifty of his men, had
left his native plains of Patagonia, and was rapidly approaching the
town.

Upon the receipt of the news, the governor called together all the
musicians, and sent them to escort the savages into Mendoza. The chief
encamped outside the town, and, having obtained an interview with the
governor, presented, in the most barefaced manner, a petition from his
tribe which any other government would have recognized as an insult,
and treated it as such. He wished to be told how much per month his
tribe would be allowed if they would not steal any more.

Instead of sending them off about their business, or seizing them,
the governor treated them like spoiled children, promising them an
allowance if they behaved well, and distributing presents among them,
after which they were escorted to their own country, fourteen days’
travel from Mendoza, by a party of soldiers commanded by an officer.

A day or two before the departure of these Indians, while I was
transacting some business in a store, the chief entered, followed by
two of his tribe. This beardless savage was dressed in a full English
suit, that he had undoubtedly stolen somewhere, as his tribe were
notorious robbers.

He addressed me, through an interpreter, in broken Spanish.

Probably suspecting that I was a foreigner, he asked if “Ropa” (Europe)
was not my home. He had no knowledge of any other country, but supposed
that all foreigners came from the same land on the other side of a
great water. I told him concerning my native land, and in the course of
the conversation remarked that we had a great many Indians, but that
they generally used fire-arms; at which he probably set me down as
being as great a liar as himself.

According to his own story, he was a good man, a rich man, and a
friend to humanity, and to foreigners in particular, he had the same
hypocritical way of talking as the natives of Mendoza, and I came to
the conclusion that they had mutually assisted each other in their
education.

After scrutinizing the various objects about him, he at length asked
me, with a grunt, to lend him four reals. Of course I refused him; but
I was curious to learn more of him, and my refusal was not made in the
most decided tone possible. He smiled grimly, and commenced telling a
long story of his beautiful house (?) far away in Patagonia, where I
should always be a welcome visitor. He had vast numbers of ostriches
and guanacos running about his grounds, all of which should be at my
disposal if I would but accompany him back to the pampas. He liked
foreigners, because they were braver than the gauchos. Pausing in the
midst of his harangue, he gave me a punch in the ribs, and asked to be
accommodated with three reals. I again refused. Taking up the thread
of his story, he continued at great length, finally promising to bring
me a tame guanaco when he returned to Mendoza. Here followed another
poke, and a request for two reals, then one, and finally promising to
be content with a medio. I gave it to him, and he left me.

The circus performers intended leaving Mendoza for San Juan, a town
lying one hundred and fifty miles to the north, and earnestly wished
me to accompany them. To me it mattered little whether I remained
four months in Mendoza or any other place; but before accepting their
invitation I called upon the _correo_, or Chilian courier, to see if I
could possibly cross the Cordillera with him. The _correo_ was away on
the passage, and the postmaster-general believed that he was detained
by the _temporales_ that had been raging, and would not return for
several weeks.

In crossing the mountains during the winter season, four men form the
_correo_. One carries the mail, another wood, another provisions,
&c. They do not leave either side oftener than once a month, and
are sometimes a whole month in performing the journey, as they are
frequently shut up in the snow-huts that are scattered along the road
for many days at a time.

The _casuchas_, or snow-huts, are scattered along the trail at
irregular distances. These huts are built of brick with an entrance
so constructed as to be above the drifting snow. The post party left
Mendoza on mules, or horses, and proceeded into the mountains as far
as the depth of snow would permit. Peons then took back the animals,
leaving the _correo_ to continue the journey on foot. This was the
custom at the time of my visit. Upon reaching the main chain of the
Andes, the state of the atmosphere was carefully studied, and if the
result proved favorable they ascended the Cordillera.

When upon the western side of the chain, the party sometimes adopted
an ingenious method for facilitating their progress. Each man carried
with him a square piece of hide, upon which he sat, and descended the
inclined surfaces with much ease and great rapidity. After reaching
Santa Rosa, the first town upon the western side, the _correo_ mounts a
horse, and gallops to Santiago, the capital of the republic, which is
about twenty leagues from the village.

Upon the 5th of June the _correo_ had not returned; and as there was
no possibility of my crossing into Chili, I consented to go to San
Juan, and set out about dusk with the circus manager and one of his
men for a _quinta_ outside the town, from which we were to start the
next morning. The owner of the _quinta_ had agreed to take charge
of the company’s mules and baggage, and act as guide to our party
while crossing the dreary _travesia_. We passed, by moonlight, the
burial-ground on the outskirts of the town, and reached the muleteer’s
house, where we found the family sleeping in the yard,--men, women, and
dogs, promiscuously.

As I probably shall not in this volume again have occasion to refer to
the town of Mendoza, I will here speak of its destruction, which, as
my readers doubtless are aware, occurred in 1861, from an earthquake.
This most terrible catastrophe, in which thousands of human beings lost
their lives, has rarely found a parallel in the history of the western
hemisphere.

A recent traveller, who visited the place after the calamity, says, in
describing the ruins,--

“I arose at an early hour, and sallied forth to see and contemplate the
ruins of the doomed city.

“I walked along the fine avenue of poplars (the Alameda) for about a
hundred yards, and turned into the right; a few paces brought me into
the nearest street, where I was absolutely struck dumb and immovable
with horror at the scene which presented itself.

“As I gazed along the whole length of that street, not a single house
was there to be seen standing; all was a confused mass of ‘adobes,’
beams, and bricks.

“The street was filled upon a level with what remained of the walls of
the houses on either side, which at a glance accounted for the fearful
number of victims--upwards of twelve thousand--entombed beneath the
ruins of that fatal 20th of March, 1861.

“From the plaza I turned towards the north, and there saw the only
edifice, or rather portion of one, that had remained entire: it was the
theatre, which, having had a considerable quantity of timber in its
construction, remained partially uninjured. I ascended to the roof,
and got a fine view of the entire city. For a mile around on every
side nothing but a chaotic mass of ruins was visible,--the _débris_ of
a large city razed to the ground in an instant! On the left were the
ruins of what had been once a fine church, ‘Santo Domingo,’ the altar
and a portion of the arch being the only remaining traces of its former
sacred character.

“Looking away towards the south might be seen the still partially-erect
walls of ‘San Francisco,’ another fine church, which boasted of the
largest bell in the city. This bell was pitched from its position to a
considerable distance by the shock, and stuck between two towers on the
north side of the building, where it may be still seen, wedged in so
firmly that all attempts at removing it simply by lifting have failed.
On approaching ‘Santo Domingo,’ in order to examine it more closely, I
saw lying about its ‘precinct’ several human skeletons, and portions
of the human form protruding from beneath the masses of masonry. I was
almost sickened by the sight, and moved quickly away. In many parts of
the city I saw the same horrible exhibition,--skulls, arms, legs, &c.,
lying about, some still undecayed, especially near a convent on the
south side of the city.”

A gentleman who was buried under the ruins, and afterwards extricated,
in describing his experiences, says,--

“I stood at a table (about half-past eight, P. M.) in the centre of the
room, and was in the act of lighting a cigar, when the shock, preceded
by a low, rumbling noise, was first felt. It was slow for a moment in
the beginning; but from the noise, I concluded it was going to be
something more than ordinary; so I rushed into the street, and ran down
the middle, intending, if possible, to reach the Alameda. I had run
only some twenty paces when I felt as if I had been struck a heavy blow
on the back of the head, and was borne down to the earth in a moment. I
knew that the town was infested with rats and vermin of all kinds, and
that, sooner or later, they would not fail to find me out amongst the
thousands of victims entombed, like myself, beneath at least six feet
depth of ‘adobes.’”

Mr. Hinchliff, who visited Buenos Ayres, in writing of the earthquake,
says,--

“M. Bravart, a French _savant_ of some eminence, who had foretold
the destruction of the city by an earthquake, was himself among the
victims. The principal watchmaker in Buenos Ayres, which is about
eight hundred miles distant from the scene of this awful calamity,
told me a curious fact in connection with it. One day he observed with
astonishment that his clocks suddenly differed twelve seconds from his
chronometers; and when the news arrived, about a fortnight later, he
found that the pendulums of the former had been arrested at the moment
of the destruction of Mendoza.”

Since my return to the United States I received a letter from Don
Guillermo Buenaparte, of San Juan, in which he spoke at considerable
length of the earthquake. He wrote me that when he approached Mendoza,
three or four days after the catastrophe, the stench rising from the
dead bodies beneath the ruins was perceived at a distance of several
miles from the town. He found gauchos from the plains robbing the
wounded, and searching among the rubbish for plunder. When he reached
the public square of the city he found more than a hundred women, all
mentally affected, many entirely bereft of their reason; all were
praying on their knees, asking the Holy Mary to intercede for the lost
souls of their countrymen who had, prior to the fall of the doomed
city, united with others from San Luis, and had attacked and butchered
many of their political enemies (some four hundred) of San Juan. The
unfortunate lunatics seemed to think that God had overthrown their city
to avenge the murder of San Juaninos. A political conspiracy was being
planned in the city at the time it was destroyed.

Such a spectacle as the above needs no comment.

At four o’clock of the next morning after our departure from Mendoza,
the muleteer aroused us, and bade us prepare for the journey; and an
hour later we were journeying along the base of the lofty Andes, that
towered above our heads.

Two hours’ ride brought us to the _travesia_, over which we journeyed,
passing close to a great lake that is supplied by two streams that flow
from the Cordillera.

Much of the water is absorbed by the soil about the lake; and as but
very little escapes through one or two outlets, it has been called by
the natives “El Guana Cache,” or the Consuming Lake.

I afterwards saw specimens of fishes that had been taken from its
waters, which were offered for sale in San Juan by the half-starved
peons during the winter season, when provisions were very dear. If the
specimens did not belong to the genus Nematogenys of Girard, they were
closely allied to it.

At night our party stopped beside a rude hut, inhabited by a poor
gaucho. The hut contained a curious family of men, women, children,
dogs, goats, and fowls. The poor owner begged for a little sugar as a
_remedio_.

Throughout the following day our course was over the same dreary
desert, and at night we were glad to arrive at a post-house within a
few leagues of San Juan.

By noon of the next day our party entered the town, which is still more
isolated than Mendoza, being one hundred and fifty miles north of the
principal road to Chili.


FOOTNOTES:

[3] Undoubtedly the miserable food upon which the poor people subsisted
helped in encouraging the growth of this excrescence.




                             CHAPTER XIV.

                         A WINTER IN SAN JUAN.


As soon as I arrived at San Juan, I made inquiries for parties who were
about crossing the mountains; but owing to a most severe snow storm
that set in, the clouds of which were plainly visible from the town, I
was forced to the disagreeable necessity of remaining until the snows
melted. The people told me that the winter had proved to be the most
severe of any season within the last thirty years. They said that after
ten dry or mild winters there always succeeded a similar number of
wet or severe seasons, and that the present was the first of the hard
series. The apparently settled weather that greeted me was but the
precursor of most severe storms in the mountains. They said I could not
cross; to attempt it would be madness.

While the time hung heavily on my hands, I heard much about a strange
person, yclept Don Guillermo Buenaparte, a North American by birth,
and a second father to the poorer classes of his immediate vicinity.
So many were the charitable deeds of this man, and so frequent were
the eulogies pronounced upon his character by the natives, that I felt
a desire to visit him in his own castle, which he had constructed of
mud and sticks, some eight or nine miles distant, in a small _villa_
called Causete.

Before I could find an opportunity of going, I was favored with a call
from the gentleman himself, who rode into the _patio_ of my dwelling
one evening, mounted upon a powerful white horse, and covered with
a long _poncho_, which, with a broad _sombrero_, gave him a truly
patriarchal appearance.

Don Guillermo, having heard of my arrival in San Juan, had come to
invite me to his estate in Causete, where he carried on a little flour
mill, and followed a number of other occupations. A day was appointed
for the visit, and when it came around I set out with a peon for a
guide for the _villa_. We soon, on leaving the town, came upon a plain
which gave support to a few stunted trees, peculiar to the _travesia_.
With the soil was mingled the peculiar saline mineral described in
a former chapter, which, with the dryness of the atmosphere (for
it seldom rains in this part of the republic), made our journey a
disagreeable one.

In crossing this tract the reflections of the sun’s rays upon the white
surface affected my sight, and obliged me to follow the practice of my
guide, and, like him, cover the face with a large cotton handkerchief,
_à la gaucho_. The first human habitation that I saw was a rancho built
of cornstalks; and here reposed a peon with his wife, children, and
dogs, while a huge buck goat, with a formidable pair of horns, stood at
the entrance as if to receive us.

I soon came to a place where a liberty pole was standing; and knowing
that such a thing could not be the work of the natives, I concluded
that I must be near the residence of my new acquaintance. I was not
mistaken, for he soon appeared over a little rising ground. After
greeting me cordially, he led me across the canal, that furnished his
mill with water, to his house, where he introduced me to his wife and
four children, the youngest of whom could not yet lisp its father’s
name.

I remained through the day with them, and when night came on, so
interesting had been Don Guillermo’s recital of nine years’ residence
in the Argentine Republic, that I was easily prevailed upon to remain
until morning. The next day came and passed, but still I was an inmate
of my countryman’s house, and finally was persuaded to promise that I
would not leave it until the snows began to melt upon the Cordilleras,
when I must hasten to Chili, and from its principal port, Valparaiso,
sail for home.

I accepted the offer of Don Guillermo’s hospitality only upon the
condition that I should be of service to him by taking charge of his
mill; for the natives were so dishonest that he dared not employ one
in any office of trust, and I felt that it would be but a pleasure for
me to aid him. I was accordingly installed, after fifteen minutes’
teaching, as _molinero_, or chief miller.

I felt proud of my office, though it was but a humble one. My mind was
fully occupied, and I became contented. When opportunities offered, I
took an old condemned English musket, which I charged with powder and
a few pebbles, and made explorations in the surrounding country for
the purpose of making collections in its _fauna_. I often captured
many a rare specimen, and laid the foundation of an ornithological
collection; but although I had no difficulty in getting specimens and
preparing them,--for taxidermy was familiar to me,--I found one great
obstacle to their preservation that I could not surmount. As my readers
doubtless know, arsenic is very essential for preserving the skins of
birds and mammals, and I found I could do but little without it. So one
day I mounted my horse,--a present from Don Guillermo,--and galloped
into town in quest of the mineral; but not one of the druggists would
sell me an ounce of poison; it was a crime to vend the article. I
applied to the physicians, but to no avail. I next tried some of the
officers of the government, but failed again. I even offered _three
dollars_ for one pound. The doctors and officers exclaimed, “What does
the boy want? He’s mad! Where did he come from?” &c.

Despondingly I returned to the mill, and my fine collection, intended
for a scientific society at home, was destroyed in a short time by a
minute species of red ants, which ate the skins almost entirely.

A pair of burrowing owls, a dove, a stilt, and a few eggs were all that
I succeeded in bringing home with me.

At the mill the season proved to be a busy one. Merchants from other
provinces visited San Juan, and after disposing of their goods,
generally invested their returns in wheat, which was sent to the mill
to be ground. There were no water privileges in the interior, and
the merchants and farmers of Cordova and San Luis frequently sent
wheat three or four hundred miles by troops of mules. My office,
therefore, proved an advantageous one, as I was enabled to have direct
intercourse with people from several of the northern and eastern
provinces. Among the numbers that I became acquainted with were the
old-fashioned Riojano, who came from his distant home to the north of
the desert, clothed in a heavy _frasada_, manufactured from wool of
his own shearing by the industry of his wife or daughter. Sometimes
the Indian-looking Santiaguenian, or Catamarean, and the crafty yet
polite Cordovese, traded at the mill; and many were the little gifts
that the most respectable portion of my customers brought me from
their estates far back in the irrigated _travesia_, or along the bases
of the Andes. The press of business demanded that the mill should be
run night and day. This compelled the poorer classes that came from a
distance to sleep in the mill. And at night, when all was quiet, save
the restless hum of the revolving stone, it was a curious sight to
peep in at the door, and behold the ground covered with sleeping forms
of men, women, and children of many types and complexions--here the
offspring of the negro and Indian; there the child of a Spanish father
and Indian mother. It was a study worthy the attention of a profound
ethnologist to separate and classify the various crosses and mixtures
of the different races of the genus _homo_ that came to the mill of Don
Guillermo Buenaparte.

Leaving the dusty atmosphere of the mill, I frequently wandered out
into the night air to gaze upon nature by moonlight. The canal that
watered the district of Causete branched off in a different direction
from the main _acquia_, and could be traced, as it wound along the
_travesia_, by the willows and clumps of reeds that grew upon its
banks. The Andes towered above the plains a few miles to the west,
while on the east the solid range of the mountains of Cordova,
stretching far to the north, gave an additional grandeur to the scene.
The nights were bland and lovely, excepting when the wind called the
_zonda_ (a sort of sirocco) came from the Andes, when the natives
suffered from its parching heat, and those affected with diseases of
the heart trembled in expectation of sudden death.

While I strolled along the banks of the canal the mill hummed on as
usual, for Don Guillermo had constructed an ingenious method of alarm,
by means of which the absent or sleepy miller was warned of the state
of affairs within the building.

Such was the delight that I took in these rambles upon the _travesia_,
that duty was in one or two instances neglected, and I found, on
returning to the mill, that some villanous male or degraded female was
stealing the “millings” from the miller’s box, or purloining flour from
the hide sack of some countryman who was fast in the embrace of the
drowsy god. Once or twice, on such occasions, I became so vexed as to
attempt clearing the room of the thievish fellows; but to accomplish
this required a stronger arm than mine, and one attempt almost resulted
in a general _mélée_; but as the female customers always took sides
with the gringo, I came off in good condition, and attained my object:
thus the good name of the mill was not forfeited.

The gauchos love to gamble, and while waiting for the mill to do its
work, they generally spent the time in playing their favorite games,
always staking small sums of money upon the chances in order to make
the time pass more profitably. But whatever might have been the rules
of the other mills, Don Guillermo soon put a stop to what he called
a degenerating practice, and by various small skirmishes with the
gaucho peons, he fully demonstrated that _his_ was a North American
institution, and that, therefore, gambling could not be permitted
upon his premises. The peons remonstrated, but the don was firm. They
threatened to ruin his business by patronizing the other mills in
preference to his own; but as their masters respected the policy of my
friend, they were restrained from carrying out their designs. Thus law
and order were firmly established, and North American principles were
triumphant. It requires no small degree of firmness and knowledge of
human nature to carry on the flour and grain business in the Argentine
Republic.

Peace and quiet did not last long before a second innovation was
attempted, although upon a new plan. A band of thieves and loafers
erected a hut of cornstalks and briers upon the opposite side of
the canal, in the district of Anjuaco, and the place was once more
disturbed by midnight revels, and by frequent raids upon the grounds of
neighboring farmers. Sheep, calves, and, even horses, disappeared in
a mysterious manner. At length Don Guillermo became exasperated, and
watching an opportunity when the rascals were absent, he attacked the
shanty, levelled it to the ground, and, collecting the ruins into one
pile, set fire to it, and burned it to ashes.

The party returned, and, on seeing the condition of their house, would,
in their rage, have demolished the buildings of the don, had not fear
prevented them; for they well knew that the law-and-order man possessed
fire-arms, dogs, and a stout heart.

During my stay at the mill I occasionally visited the town of San
Juan, and passed a few hours with some acquaintances. I found, to my
surprise, among the wealthier citizens, a class of society, which,
for dignity of deportment, strictness in etiquette, and generous
hospitality, would favorably compare with any class that I have met in
the United States or in Europe. The young men were intelligent and full
of generous ardor, and the maidens--how shall I describe them? Since
returning to North America, my friends have sometimes asked if they
resembled our Indian women!

“Most certainly not,” I have almost indignantly answered. The higher
classes of San Juan boast of a pure descent from the old Spaniards
or Portuguese. The fine, clear atmosphere of the Andes provinces has
affected favorably the complexion, and most of these people have a skin
as light as that of the inhabitants of the southern states of the Union.

Many of the females, particularly the younger ones, have complexions
that, in clearness and beauty, would rival the blondes of the north.
In addition to personal beauty, the ladies of San Juan can boast of
varied attractions. The guitar is used with a grace and skill that give
evidence of careful study and long practice. Many play upon the piano,
using instruments that have been carted a thousand miles over the
pampas, from the port of Buenos Ayres.

All can embroider with skill and elegance. Poetry appears to be
assiduously cultivated among them, and many specimens of true
inspiration came to my notice that would be considered worthy of the
name of Tennyson or Longfellow.

Altogether I know of no situation more pleasant, or containing more
elements of interest and romance, than San Juan. It combines every
description of scenery, from the arid plain of the _travesia_ to the
sublime alpine ranges; and it has a climate, during many months of the
year, of surpassing loveliness.

The San Juaninos are a most hospitable people; and when the remembrance
of their unaffected and genial kindness comes to my mind, I feel the
keenest regret that we are so widely separated.

The town is said to contain about nine thousand inhabitants; but I
think the estimate high, although many persons have given a larger
population. It certainly, in numbers, falls below Mendoza. The town
is laid out in the same manner as was Mendoza, and is watered by
the canals that run from the River San Juan, a stream rising in the
Cordillera.

No goitre exists in this vicinity. I saw only one case of it during my
stay, and the subject had lived many years in Mendoza.

About the town are large pastures of clover, which serve to fatten
the numerous herds of cattle that pass through the town on the way to
Copiapo or Coquimbo, in Chili. Soap, raisins, and cattle are among the
exports to the latter named state. Flour is forwarded to the pampa
towns, and to the villages on the _travesia_. Wine is made in large
quantities, but does not now pay a sufficient profit if sent to any
considerable distance, although it was exported largely in by-gone
years. All the fruits that grow in Mendoza thrive better in this
province. The oranges of Mendoza seemed to possess an acrid taste, but
I did not detect this in any of the fruits of San Juan. The vineyards
surpass anything that I have ever seen,--not in the culture of the
grape, as but little is done to the vines, but in the quality of the
fruit. I distinguished eleven kinds of grapes in the _quintas_ around
San Juan.

The iron plough and other improved implements of agriculture were
unknown, and when I described to the _quinteros_ the facility with
which the celebrated Prouty and Mears centre draught plough is handled,
they fairly overwhelmed me with questions, which had, at least, the
merit of artlessness.

There is at San Juan a Board of Water Commissioners, who have charge
of the irrigating department. These officials are seven in number.
They have labored hard to extend the main canals beyond the _villas_
of Causete and Anjaco, even to the very base of the _Pié de palo_, or
wooden foot--a sierra some fourteen miles east of San Juan. By these
means the sterile saline _travesia_ is gradually becoming clothed
with verdure, and spreading pastures of clover, surrounded by poplars
and willows, cover spots that three years since were occupied only by
scattered thorn-bushes.

As I have already mentioned, the situation of miller, that I filled,
was the means of giving me many opportunities for meeting and studying
different phases of character.

One of my customers, whom I have set down in my journal as Don José,
the penitent, was indeed a study. He was a large-limbed, long-winded,
courageous old fellow, of the pure Spanish stock, and descended from
the original conquerors of the Argentine Republic. I had frequently
heard his name mentioned by the gauchos, one or two of whom delighted
in telling of his prowess during the last revolution. The town of San
Juan had been taken by an armed band while the illustrious Benavides
was outside the place, and Don José, who was then an _arriero_, or
muleteer, felt it his duty to rescue it from what he considered the
wrong political party. The _cuartel_ had been taken, and no soldiers
could be enlisted for the purpose; but Don José’s energy did not fail.
He scoured the country about San Juan, and collected twenty-five
gauchos, who followed him to the town. The precipitate entry made
by the gallant little party struck fear and consternation into the
revolutionists, and Don José was hailed as deliverer for many weeks.

The rich people, who had never before noticed him, now touched their
_sombreros_, and honored him with their praise and approbation. But,
as Don José said, this did not give him money, and he therefore was
no better in station than before the revolution. He was still a peon.
After the excitement had died away, and rich dons no longer doffed
their hats as he passed, he sat soberly down and meditated upon how he
could raise money enough to rent him a farm, for he well knew that his
industry would soon make him independent, provided he could hire a spot
of land fit for cultivation. Nobody would loan him a _peso_.

Our hero, nevertheless, did not despond. He sought relief in religion,
but in a different manner from that which is usually practised. The
don knew that several of the churches of the town had large endowments.
People dying, and wishing to enter a better world, there to enjoy a
life of bliss, had left sums of money to the church, surely not to
be applied to charitable purposes, for the priests generally require
nine dollars for saying mass over the body of the poorest child of
the church. The priests will sometimes lend these moneys upon good
security, and to pious people, at the low rate of five per cent.; and
we may well call this a low rate, when, in business transactions, the
people of the interior towns rarely charge less than eighteen per cent.

The don, knowing that he had not attended mass regularly, did not feel
satisfied that his application for money to the priests would meet
with success, and he therefore commenced a plan that, if carried out,
would insure him all the money that his wants required. He resolved to
become a penitent. He looked back over his past life with sorrow. “I
have sinned--have sinned more than all others,” he said to the other
penitents. “I am resolved to change my mode of life, and now I will
live for some good purpose.”

Each day his phiz lengthened. “How solemn he looks!” said the friends
of his family; “poor Don José!” He lost flesh rapidly, and the brave
deliverer of the town became feeble as a woman. He attended church
regularly, was always at the masses, and never absent from the
confessional. He was, in short, a model church member. The priests
were his friends,--not the jolly, fat, laughing padres, but the
frizzle-headed, stern old fellows, that rarely smiled, and then only
at the follies of the world. Don José fasted a great deal, and then,
after advising with his confessor, determined to scourge himself,
and to pass three days in solitary confinement. He bade adieu to his
friends, and locked himself into a little domicile that belonged to
the church. Here, in communion with himself, he passed three long days
and nights without food. With a short piece of raw hide he chastised
his body,--vicariously, probably, after the example of his illustrious
Manchegan countryman,--and spots of blood (from the arteries of an ox)
were observed upon the floor and walls of the chamber when good Father
R. entered, and who declared that his son had done his duty nobly.

Don José had accomplished his object. He could be trusted by the clergy
now, and it was with pleasure that the treasurer-padre gave the sum
required by our hero. With the borrowed money he rented a farm, and I
can so far attest to the success of his operations, that as I passed
his residence I often filled my saddlebag with the fruits of his
penitence, which I took to the mill to make happy the little cherubs of
Don Guillermo.




                              CHAPTER XV.

                   A WINTER IN SAN JUAN--CONTINUED.


With the approach of spring, the desert around the mill became a
constant source of study to me. The lagoon near the house was filled
with seven or eight species of ducks and teals, and occasionally a pair
of white swans might be seen upon the water, where they frequently
staid for several days in succession. The ducks remained throughout the
whole year; and before I left Causete, the _China_ or half-breed girls
were frequently seen swimming into the lagoon, where they captured
great numbers of the young fowl.

The green-winged teal, pin-tailed duck, and other species of the
northern continent, were far from uncommon.

One day, while standing in the doorway of the mill, attempting to get
a glimpse of a dim line of the point of the _Pié de palo_, where I had
been told that a beautiful region, called the “Fertile Valley,” lay
embosomed in trees, my attention was attracted to a dark spot in the
sierra, which seemed to be a hole in the rock. On the following day,
at sunset, I again distinguished the same dark spot: each day it grew
larger; and one morning an old miner came into the mill, and informed
me that a company of Chilenos were opening a vein; the situation of
the _sierra_, the peculiarities of the rock, &c., led him to doubt
of the practicability of the undertaking. How the party succeeded in
their search for gold I have not yet learned; but the antecedents of
the mountain are bad, for when the _sierra_ was discovered by the
early adventurers, in expectation of finding gold, they named it
_Pié de Oro_, or “Foot of Gold,” and afterwards, when they had been
disappointed in searching for the ore, they dropped the first name, and
called it that by which it is known at the present day--_Pié de Palo_,
or “Wooden Foot.”

The llama and other animals are found in the _sierra_ of this section,
which are also known--for what reason I never could learn--as the
mountains of Cordova. I had not time to visit the range when in
Causete, though I much desired to do so, as the old guides and miners
told many strange stories regarding it.

One evening, as I was in the mill at work, a servant came from the
house, saying that Don Guillermo wished to see me, and give me an
introduction to a guest who had just arrived. I repaired to the house,
where I made the acquaintance of the celebrated gaucho, _Diablo_
McGill. As he has quite a local notoriety, I will speak of him more
fully here than I otherwise would.

McGill was celebrated above most gauchos for his skill in using the
lasso, knife, and _boliadores_, and in the management of wild colts.
He was the handsomest herdsman that I ever saw, and was so polite and
easy in his intercourse with strangers that I at first doubted if he
was really the wild gaucho of whom I had heard so much. McGill was
the owner of a troop of mules, he left his native province to follow
the wandering life of a pampa merchant, because he despised his own
countrymen, and declared that they were all peons (laborers), and not
gauchos; for the province in which he was born, being situated upon
the desert, at the base of the Andes, contained very few cattle-farms,
and consequently the inhabitants were mostly traders, laborers, and
“loafers.”

He visited the province annually, and while in his native town
invariably played some mad prank to astonish the natives, and keep his
reputation as a _diablo_.

On feast days he dressed himself in the full habiliments of a herdsman,
a showy _chiropá_, finely-wrought drawers, heavy silver spurs, &c. His
horse was selected with care from his corral, and bedecked with silver
ornaments from the head to the tail, and a costly _recado_, or country
saddle, placed upon its back. Thus equipped, he would sally forth to
visit the various _pulperias_, or drinking-shops, where the gauchos
crowded to listen to his songs, and tales of mighty deeds transacted
while accompanying his troop of mules across the lonely pampas.

All the señoritas felt happy when McGill asked them to accompany him
through _la samba cueca_, _el gato_, or _la mariquita_, as the three
principal dances are styled, and she who could keep the wild gaucho by
her side for one half hour felt more gratified than if she had made a
dozen ordinary conquests. But the wild gaucho could not love a fair
señorita, though she might be the belle of the province. Horses, wild
colts, wild bulls, and wild gauchos were his chosen companions, and the
fair sex tried, but in vain, to find some uncovered spot upon which to
make an impression: he was impenetrable to the shafts of Cupid.

The story is told that, during one of his last visits Don Antonio
Moreno, who had always envied the success of McGill, challenged him to
prove his skill in the use of the lasso. McGill accepted the challenge,
and entered, lasso in hand, the corral of the jealous Don Antonio.

“I will do more than you challenge me to attempt,” said our hero,
coolly. “Here are five hundred mules in this circular yard, and as you
drive around the circle they run eight or ten abreast. Now, I will
stand in the middle, and as they pass around me you are to call out
which mule you wish lassoed, and upon what leg or part of the body the
animal is to be noosed. This you must do when the particular beast is
in front of me, so that I can throw the lasso _when she is behind me_.
As fast as one is caught, you are to remove her from the corral. Thus
will I catch each of the five hundred mules, without missing a single
throw, and catch them while they pass BEHIND MY BACK. Will that satisfy
you, Don Antonio Moreno?”

The other party looked incredulous. Don Antonio was himself a
first-rate gaucho and _rastreador_; he had seen good lassoing, but this
offer seemed preposterous.

“Go on, McGill,” he said, with a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders.
“When you have caught five hundred mules behind your back, I will pay
you well for your trouble.”

The gaucho took his place in the centre of the yard, and, as the mules
were driven around the circle, threw his lasso with unerring skill;
first one, then another, then a third, rolled over upon the ground,
always falling upon the head in a particular manner.

Don Antonio suspected the gaucho, and perceiving his object in throwing
the mules upon their heads, protested against it.

“You will break the necks of half of them!” he exclaimed to the gaucho,
who at the same moment, with a dexterous jerk on the lasso, sent
another mule, stunned, upon the ground.

“Stop!” he shouted. “McGill, what mean you by throwing the mules in
that manner?”

“What do I mean?” replied the herdsman, as another mule shared the same
fate of the last one. “What do I mean? Why, man, I mean to break the
necks of all your mules, that I may give you a certain proof that I
_can_ throw the lasso equal to, and better than, any San Juanino.”

“Enough! enough!” replied the excited don. “You have proved it; there
is no necessity of further effort. Besides, these mules are to be
driven across the Cordillera into Chili, and if you break their necks
it’s money out of my pocket. Had we not better enter the house? I
believe Doña Trinidad is ready to serve _maté_.”

When McGill rode forth upon a feast day as Gaucho Porteño, or Buenos
Ayrean herdsman, the peons of San Juan gazed with astonishment upon
his rich trappings. I have the list of articles that he and his
animal wore. Upon his favorite black horse were first placed three
_bageras_, or skins, to preserve the animal’s back from the chafing
of saddle-gear. Upon these were laid a heavy, fine-wrought _jergon_,
or blanket, to absorb the perspiration; over these were laid, first,
a _corona de vaca_, or cow’s hide covering, to give firmness to the
saddle; secondly, a _corona_ of fine leather, to hide the rougher
pieces beneath.

The latter article, which was richly embossed, was very ornamental, and
drew from the gauchos many admiring remarks. Upon this platform, or
foundation the _recardo_ was placed, and kept firmly in position by a
wide _cincha_, or girth, cut from softened, untanned hide. A _pellon_,
or sheepskin, was laid upon the saddle, and kept in its place by a
smaller girth. The _pellon_ was then covered with a small piece of
embroidered cloth, worked by the hands of some fair damsel. The lasso
lay upon the animal’s croup, behind the rider, and was attached to an
iron ring in the broad _cincha_. A pair of _alforjas_, or saddle-bags,
were thrown across the peak of the saddle, and around the animal’s neck
hung a leather rope, the _fiador_, used to tie him when feeding, though
the lasso is generally employed for that purpose.

Upon the peak of the saddle were swung the _chifles,_ two cows’ horns,
in which was carried wine or water,--fluids absolutely indispensable
upon the _travesia_ of San Luis.

From beneath the left side of the _coronas_, close by the peak of the
saddle, peeped the three balls, the well-known _boliadores_ (called in
most works of travel _bolas_), with which the gaucho secures game while
upon the road.

Hanging from the _fiador_ was a pair of _manes_, or shackles, for
the horse’s fore feet, which serve the same purpose as a pair of
handcuffs. If the rider wishes to leave his horse in the street, where
many travellers are passing, he places the _manes_ upon the animal’s
fore legs, and it is only with great difficulty that the beast can
slowly move about. Lastly, the bridle, a magnificent article, formed
of leather, and thickly studded with silver plates, and the horse was
equipped. McGill was dressed in the gala costume of a Buenos Ayrean
gaucho, with drawers of the finest needlework, and the _chiropá_, that
covered his loins, of costly silk. From this description the reader can
gain some idea of a fast man among the gauchos, for such was the guest
of Don Guillermo.

In this connection I may devote a few lines to a character well known
throughout the Provinces of La Plata--the _rastreador_, or trailer.

While the mill was in operation one afternoon, I had occasion to leave
the building, in order to let on more water from the _acquia_. While
attending to the flood-gate, I saw an old man slowly approaching the
mill, with his eyes bent upon the ground. He frequently stopped to
inspect the soil; then, continuing his course, he passed the mill, and
crossed the rude bridge that spanned the canal. Continuing along the
_travesia_ in the district of Anjuco, he was soon lost among the thorn
trees and thickets of _mata-gusano_. I thought no more of the old man,
supposing that he had probably lost some article, and was searching for
it. An hour later he returned to the mill, and said a few words to Don
Guillermo and several gauchos, who were waiting for their respective
turns at the hopper. In an instant the loom was vacated; the party
dispersed along the road, and as they occasionally came together near
the mill, I could see the old man giving some advice, upon which the
gauchos again dispersed. The party returned about eight o’clock, and
from the peons I learned that the old man was a trailer. He had been
walking along the road, and had noticed a footprint that struck him
as “deceitful.” He said that a man had passed the mill about three
o’clock, and that the man was a robber. “For he was dressed,” said the
trailer, “in woman’s clothes. There are places along his trail that
prove he held the dress up with his hands; in others it trailed along
the ground. He wore a woman’s shoe, which did not fit him; his foot
was broad, the shoe long and narrow. He walked in some places, and ran
through the thickets. No man dresses in woman’s garb without some bad
intent.”

“He is somewhere among the ranches of Anjuco.”

Wonderful to state, news came from town the next day that several
men had dressed themselves in female attire, and in that disguise
had visited the stores in the Calle Ancho, or Broadway, where they
had purloined many articles, which the rogues had hidden beneath
their dresses. It was the trail of one of these dresses that the old
_rastreador_ had struck.

The patriot Sarmiento, a San Juanino by birth, says of the
characteristics of these men, the trailers,--

“Once, as I was crossing a path that led into the Buenos Ayres road,
the muleteer that conducted me cast his eyes upon the ground, as was
his custom, and said a very good black mule passed here yesterday; she
had an easy gait, and was saddled; she belongs to the troop of Don
----. This man was coming from the _sierra_ of San Luis; the troop was
returning from Buenos Ayres.

“A year had passed since he had seen the black mule, the track of
which was confused with those of a whole troop, in a path not more
than two feet wide. But this keenness of perception, so apparently
incredible, is a faculty common to every gaucho; this man was a mere
muleteer, and not a professional trailer.”

He also describes another trailer in _La Vida de Juan_, Facundo
Quiroga, as follows:--

“I knew a trailer by the name of Calibar, who had practised his
profession in one province during forty successive years. He is now
nearly eighty years old, and though bowed with age, still retains a
venerable and dignified appearance.

“When they speak to him of his fabulous reputation, he answers, ‘I am
now useless; these are my children.’ It is said of him that during a
trip that he made to Buenos Ayres a saddle was stolen from his house.

“His wife covered the robber’s track with a wooden bowl. Two months
later Calibar returned home, and saw the almost obliterated footprint,
that to other eyes was imperceptible, and nothing more was said of the
occurrence. A year and a half afterwards Calibar was walking along a
street in the suburbs of the town, with his head inclined towards the
ground. He entered a house, and found a saddle, blackened, and almost
worthless from use; he had found the trail of the robber after a lapse
of two years.

“During the year 1830 a criminal had escaped from jail, and Calibar was
charged to find him. The unhappy man, knowing that he would be tracked,
had taken all the precautions which the fear of the scaffold could
invent.

“Useless precautions! Perhaps they only served to insnare him, for
Calibar felt that his reputation might be compromised, and self-pride
caused him to acquit himself well.

“The runaway took every advantage of the unevenness of the ground so as
to baffle his pursuer; but his efforts only proved the marvellous sight
of the _rastreador_.

“He walked the whole length of streets on tiptoe, then climbed low
walls, crossed a pasture, and returned in his own track.

“Calibar followed without losing the trail. If he momentarily missed
it, it was soon recovered. At last he arrived at a canal of water in
the suburbs, where the fugitive had followed the current, to foil the
trailer. But in vain! Calibar followed along the shore without any
uneasiness, and at last stopped to examine some grass, with the words,
‘At this place he came out; there is no track, but these drops of water
in the pasture indicate it.’

“The fugitive had entered a vineyard. Calibar surveyed with his eye
the walls that surrounded it, and said, ‘He is within.’ The party of
soldiers that attended him sought in the vineyard without success.
At length they became tired of hunting, and returned to report the
uselessness of their search. ‘He has not come out,’ was the brief
answer which the trailer gave, without moving himself, or proceeding
to a new examination. He had not come out, indeed; another search
discovered him, and on the following day he was executed.”




                             CHAPTER XVI.

                           VIENTE DE ZONDA.


In a preceding chapter I made reference to the _viente de zonda_,
or zonda wind; and as the history of it is imperfectly known in the
northern continent, I will here speak of it to some extent.

The _viente de zonda_ may be called a local wind, as it blows only in
the vicinity of the province of San Juan, the town where the following
observations were made.

San Juan, the capital of the province, lies at the eastern base of
the Andes, three or four leagues distant from the outer sierra, south
latitude 31° 4′ (Molina), longitude 68° 57′ west (Arrowsmith). Behind
the first range in a valley are four or five farms, which constitute
the hamlet of Zonda, from which the wind is named. It blows at all
seasons, though during July and August (midwinter) it is most frequent.
This wind is hot and parching to the skin, and brings with it clouds of
dust and fine sand.

All persons leave their work, and seek refuge in their houses, while
frequently the huts of the gauchos are blown down by the force of
the wind. Most persons are troubled with severe headaches. Those who
have been suffering from diseases of the heart find their complaints
greatly aggravated, and frequently there are cases of sudden death.
Three or four years since, five persons fell dead during the _zondas_
in the month of August. The wind lasts sometimes two or three hours;
at other times, forty-eight hours, though this long duration is rare.
While the _zondas_ is at its height, a few puffs of cold air from the
south announce a change, and immediately the weather-cock veers from
east and west to north and south, and a cold wind, equally as strong as
the hot _zonda_, then prevails from the south. All nature is refreshed
by the change, and men resume their abandoned labors.

In searching through the works of the very few authors who have
visited the interior of the Argentine states (all but one or two of
whom were Europeans), I find that only one mentions the existence of
this phenomenon; and he did not, probably, visit the town where my
observations were made, which locality is considered by the natives as
the northern limit of the _zondas_.

John Miers, the author of an interesting work on the Provinces of La
Plata and Chili, remained a short time in Mendoza. He states that this
southern locality is annoyed by winds that blow during the summer
months from the valley of Zonda, and notes the fact that two dark
clouds came from the north-west, and hovered over the town during the
greater part of the night, and in the morning everything that had been
exposed to the air was covered with fine sand, which was of a light
gray color, and slightly magnetic. It was Miers’s opinion that “a
_souffrière_, or active volcano,” existed to the northward of San Juan,
from which the hurricanes and showers of sand originated. Had Mr.
Miers visited San Juan, his view of the position of the volcano would,
undoubtedly, have been changed; for though the _zondas_ reach Mendoza
to the south, the direction of the wind when it strikes that place
differs from the line it follows when it rushes with violence upon the
northern town. At San Juan it comes due west from the Andes. Hence the
starting-point of the _zonda_ cannot be to the north of the town, as
Miers conjectured. According to the account of the natives, the _zonda_
of San Juan does not cover a broader space than ten or fifteen miles
after it leaves the sierra of Zonda.

Taking this into consideration, in connection with Miers’s statement
that the Mendoza _zonda_ comes from the north-west, differing, as it
will be seen, four points from the northern town, we may infer that the
Mendoza and San Juan _zondas_ do not blow at the same time. If this is
true, it is an interesting fact, showing that this peculiar wind does
not always follow the same track.

Miers further states that these are summer winds in Mendoza. From
personal observation, and by reliable accounts of educated San
Juaninos, I found that they were more particularly the winter winds;
at least they are more frequent during that season. Invalids suffering
from pneumonical diseases and complaints affecting the heart and liver,
anticipate the month of August (midwinter) with consternation, and
their anxiety is not quieted until they have passed through the dreaded
ordeal.

While passing the winter in San Juan, I noted the courses of upwards
of twenty _zondas_. Some were of short duration; others lasted eighteen
or twenty hours.

During the latter part of August, as I was standing upon the saline
desert, a few miles east of San Juan, my attention was attracted by a
cloud of dust that appeared to roll through the air as it approached
me. I started for a shelter, and had hardly reached it when the _zonda_
swept past, filling the air with fine yellow sand. The temperature of
the previously sultry atmosphere suddenly rose many degrees, and the
occupants of the neighboring huts were affected with severe headaches.
I noted, with a compass, the course of the wind, which was west. All
night and through the following day and night, the wind continued
blowing with undiminished force. Each hour the vane beside the hut
was consulted, and the same course as at first was always observed.
A few hours before the wind ceased the sand showers were exhausted.
The greatest heat was during the first few hours; and this is always
the case if the _zonda_ commences during the day. After continuing
for thirty-six hours the change came. It was instantaneous. The hot
wind seemed cut off at right angles by a cold wind from the south. The
change could not have occupied more than forty seconds. The south wind
lasted twenty hours, and was as violent as the hot _zonda_. In speaking
of the Mendoza _zondas_, Miers does not mention the succession of the
south wind. It is easy to comprehend that, after so large an area has
become filled with heated air, the effect will be felt in the cooler
regions of the south, and a strong current from that direction will
rush in to restore the atmospheric equilibrium. Hence the cause of the
south wind succeeding the _zonda_.

Miers believed that the origin of the _zondas_ was volcanic, and a
corroboration of his views is found in the work of Sir Woodbine Parish,
in which he states that the volcano Penguenes, which is situated about
one hundred miles south-west from Mendoza, and reaches an altitude of
nearly fifteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, emits clouds
of ashes and pumice-dust. This dust is carried by the winds as far as
Mendoza, but these clouds do not strike the town with the force of
the San Juan _zonda_. The pumice-dust is _borne_ along by variable
winds. From this fact we may infer that the fine sand of the _zondas_
comes from a similar source. The most important question is, _Where
originates the hot and parching wind that always accompanies, and is
peculiar to, the zondas?_ The old guides, who are familiar with the
valleys of the Andes, informed me that these winds blow from off the
main snow-clad ridge of that great chain of mountains, and expressed
their surprise at the fact “that from a cold region comes a burning
wind.”

Strong and steady winds generally follow a direct line. This fact
is characteristic of the _zondas_. If Miers’s conjecture be true
regarding the origin of these winds, the position of the volcano, or
_souffrière_, might be found by observing the following suggestion,
bearing in mind that the Mendoza wind comes from the _north-west_, and
the San Juan _zonda_ from the _west_. That point where two lines--one
running west from the northern town, the other _north-west_ from the
southern town--will intersect, is the starting-point of the sand
clouds, if not of the accompanying hot wind.

Looking upon the map of South America, we find in the Cordillera of
the Andes, between the latitudes of San Juan and Mendoza, four peaks
marked as doubtful volcanoes: Limari, directly west of San Juan;
Chuapu, thirty miles farther south; and near the half-way point of the
two towns, Ligua. To the north of west of Mendoza stands prominent the
lofty Aconcagua, that has been estimated by two English captains to
have an elevation of twenty-three thousand nine hundred feet. The point
of intersection of the west and north-west _zonda_ lines is in the
vicinity of Limari and Chuapu, and, if not either of these, the _zonda_
volcano is a near neighbor to them.




                             CHAPTER XVII.

                ADVENTURES OF DON GUILLERMO BUENAPARTE.


During the months that I remained with Don Guillermo, I studied well
the character of mine host; and so generous were his sentiments,
and kind his heart, that each day my attachment for him increased.
His life had been a curious one; and as we sat by the table, one
morning, imbibing a _maté_, I urged him to give me some account of his
peregrinations since leaving his native land. Grasping my hand, with
tears visible in his eyes, he said, “My friend, if you will promise to
search out my relatives, when you return to North America, and give
them my history, I will willingly answer your request.” A _brasero_ of
coals having been placed beneath the table, around which the members of
the household were seated, Don Guillermo commenced his recital.

“At eighteen years of age, certain family troubles occurred, and
being a proud-spirited youth, I changed my quiet life on shore for an
adventurous one upon the ocean. From my own village I proceeded to
the great metropolis, New York, and was directed, after some inquiry,
to a shipping office, the proprietor of which informed me that he was
procuring a large crew for a vessel, owned, and then lying, at New
Bedford. The first question asked by this gentleman was, ‘Have you been
round the Horn?’ As this was to be my first trip upon salt water, I
informed him to that effect. ‘Well,’ continued he, ‘that’s bad enough.
Now, you see, I have already shipped all the green hands that are
wanted, and the old man sent word down from Bedford forbidding me to
take any others than such as have made one or two voyages. But don’t
get discouraged at trifles; we will settle that matter: follow me.’

“In the centre of the room was a post or pillar, upon which was a cow’s
horn; and round this he walked twice, I following close upon his heels.
‘Now,’ said the shipping master, ‘if any man, sailor or monkey, says
that you haven’t been round the Horn, just give him the lie. You can
sign these articles, and go up to Bedford to-morrow morning, with a
dozen likely young men, who are going to sea for their health, and they
will enjoy themselves, I don’t doubt, as there are several gentlemen’s
sons among the crew.’ I was amused at this comical way of weathering
the Horn, and asked him if it would not be advisable to inform our
captain of the quick passage I had made; but the old fellow silenced me
by stating that he had shipped hundreds of sailors (?) in the same way,
and they had all given satisfaction.

“I left New Bedford, a few days later, in the Golconda, and, after a
good run round the Horn, we touched at several places on the coast
of Chili, at one of which I left the vessel, and secretly joined a
pearl and whale ship that was bound to the Galápagos Islands, with the
intention of procuring supplies of wood and tortoises, the latter
being a good remedy for scurvy. The first land made after leaving the
coast of Chili was the _rock_ of Dunda, which rises some hundreds of
feet above the level of the sea. Here the boats were lowered to catch
a species of fish that weighed about six pounds, and found in large
schools close in to the rock. With pieces of pork and white rags
greased, we caught in a few hours several barrels full, which were
taken on board the ship and salted down. While fishing, the mate caught
on his hook a large serpent, eight or nine feet in length, covered with
scales, and nearly as large as a man’s leg. It came into the boat with
severe struggles, during which it knocked the mate senseless, and two
Dutchmen, from fright, jumped into the sea. This rock is supposed to
have once belonged to the Galápagos, being in the same range, and, with
a fair wind, is but a few hours’ sail from the principal members of
that group.

“The ship, which had been lying off and on, was now put before the
wind, and we steered for an uninhabited island of the Galápagos, called
Terrapin Island, and, when near it, a party of picked men were lowered
in the boats, with orders to collect all the wood and tortoise that
could be procured. The three boats’ crews, upon landing, found the
island to be composed of pumice-stone, probably thrown from a volcano
in its centre. Next the beach was a narrow strip of land, covered with
a light growth of wood, which did not extend forty rods inland; and
though immediate search was made for water, not a drop could be found.
One of the crew asserted that inland grew a stunted prickly pear,
and dwarf camphor tree. We were full of fun, and each boasted that
he know where to hunt for the largest tortoise; and a party of four,
including myself set out together, each promising to return with a
gigantic one. As we journeyed inland, the surface of the island became
more irregular, and was filled with deep cracks or chasms, the bottoms
of which, in many instances, could not be discerned. These fissures
descended far below the level of the sea; and, hoping to discover
fresh water, we descended into several, but they were all dry and warm
as ovens. The rocks around us were porous, and therefore must have
absorbed the water that fell when it rained, which, in these parts of
the world, is a rare occurrence. Among the rocks abounded a sort of
lizards, with long tails, called iguanas.

“After wandering several miles and not meeting with tortoises, a
portion of the party concluded to ‘’bout ship’ and return, when a
dispute arose regarding the true direction to the bay where the ship
lay, and we parted, I following the course that appeared to be the
true one, while my three companions set out upon an entirely different
one. I continued on until the shades of evening enveloped the island,
and made the volcano look like a grim giant. Here I should have rested
until morning, as much suffering would have been prevented; but,
feeling confident that my course was right, I travelled on in the dark,
and, as I afterwards learned, passed the bay without being aware of its
proximity. At last, exhausted with walking, I lay down to sleep upon
the pumice-stone; but the heat was so great, that I was obliged to turn
from side to side with the torture it inflicted; for the sun’s heat
had been absorbed during the day by these rocks, and it was now given
off with an intensity that was truly astonishing. I lighted my pipe
and tried to forget my troubles; but, almost dying with thirst, and
scorched with the slow fire beneath me, the night wore heavily away.
When morning came, I examined my stock of matches, and found that three
remained, besides a little tobacco, and, carefully putting these in a
safe pocket, I directed my steps to the tall mountain, which appeared
to be but a few miles distant. By so doing, chance might favor me, as
the men had said, the previous day, that the prickly pear grew in the
interior; but my great object was to find water.

“When the sun had reached the meridian, a pair of new double-soled
shoes, which I had on, were worn or burned through; I had found no
water, and the mountain appeared farther off than it did when I saw it
the previous morning.

“Thanks to a good Providence, this misery was soon to be ended, at
least for a time; for while journeying along late in the afternoon,
with feet bleeding at every step, I espied a little green hill that
peeped above the rocks, and with renewed energy I pushed forward, and
sank fainting at its base.

“I soon recovered from the exhaustion caused by my sufferings, and as
darkness came on, sleep overpowered and wrapped me in its embrace. It
was after midnight (so I judged by the height of the Southern Cross)
when I woke with a curious feeling caused by suffocation. Recalling
my scattered senses, I beheld a huge pair of jaws and two horrid eyes
close to my face, while a clawed foot rested upon each shoulder. I
trembled in every limb, but did not lose my self-possession; and now
I laugh to think that the cause of my trepidation was nothing more
than a harmless iguana--a large species of lizard. A single movement
of my body caused him to slide from his place and drag his ugly form
away; but he did not choose to end his antics here; several hours
he continued the annoyance, and determined to make the best of his
affectionate ways. I threw a piece of pumice-stone at him, and Mr.
Iguana lay senseless among the rocks. Cutting the reptile’s throat and
catching the blood in the heel of my dilapidated shoe, I drank it as if
it had been a beverage of cool milk. With refreshed vigor I ascended
the hill. It was covered with grass, and little trees resembling the
American beech grew upon it. Flocks of birds were flying about, and
their songs revived my spirits.

“Commencing a search for water, I discovered a deep fissure, at the
bottom of which some shining substance attracted my attention, and
feeling certain that it was water, I descended into the chasm. Again
was I doomed to disappointment. A soft, damp mud covered the bottom, in
which hundreds of tiny tracks told me that birds had visited the spot,
and that the water which had fallen from the clouds had been drank
or absorbed by the soil. Had I been a student of natural history, an
hour could have been whiled away in the study of ornithichnites; but,
dropping all thoughts of science, I made balls of the mud and sucked
the moisture they contained, then climbed into the open air. The birds
were exceedingly tame, and suffered me to approach and knock them down
with a stick. In this I beheld the beneficence of Providence, for here
was food for many days. After killing several, I attempted to light a
fire with the three matches before mentioned. All three failed. I ate
two birds in a raw state, and went in search of an iguana to procure
more blood to quench my thirst. The sides of the hill were perforated
with the burrows of this animal, into which it crept, leaving the tail
outside. I caught hold of one lusty fellow’s appendage, but was too
weak to pull him out; he beat me from side to side, and I sat down upon
a rock in despair.

“The next day, when about to leave the hill, a singular fact attracted
my attention. The birds left in flocks, and winging their way towards
the big mountain, returned in twenty or thirty minutes.

“Following them for some time with my eyes, I concluded that it was
for water that they left the green hill; and carefully marking their
flight, I followed them; but, weak and exhausted, after travelling
nearly a mile across ridges that became more and more difficult to
surmount, it seemed advisable to return. An attempt to capture a young
iguana was successful, and this quenched my thirst, while a few birds’
legs kept starvation at a distance. Another night’s rest revived my
courage, and I determined, come what might, to make one more effort
to reach the sea-coast. Another day’s travel being over, I slept upon
the pumice-stone a few miles from the hill. One more day of suffering,
and when Night spread her mantle over the island, I knew too well that
mental derangement was coming; but still one idea had possession of my
mind--Onward, onward!

“I crossed a little ridge, and saw something white at its base; for
the moon had risen, and shed its light over the burning island of
pumice-stone. I lowered myself into a chasm, and examined it. My brain
became settled and attention fixed; and with horror I laid my hand upon
the skeleton of a man lying upon his face, with a large tortoise bound
to his back by a piece of ratlin. Poor fellow! he had, undoubtedly,
while making his way to his ship, missed his footing, and fallen in
such a way that he was wedged in and kept down by the great weight
upon his back: perhaps the fall itself killed him.” “But,” said I,
“why did not his captain send men to search for him?” “By asking such
a question, my friend,” begun Don Guillermo, “you show your ignorance
of the character of a captain of a whaler. Do you think, if the captain
wished to make sail, he would wait even _one_ day to seek for one of
his crew? If you wish to satisfy yourself on this point, try a voyage
in a New Bedford whaleship, and you will soon be assured that my
opinion is true.”

Don Guillermo continued his narrative.

“This affecting sight filled my mind with thoughts both joyful and
dismal--joyful, because I knew that the coast was at hand, for the
experience of the few days past had taught me that the tortoise does
not wander far inland--dismal, because it might be premonitive of
my own fate. With a giddy head I continued on my way. Of the events
which occurred from that time I have but a dim recollection. I faintly
remember wandering on for many hours, and sleeping upon the heated
rocks--the light of day coming again, when my journey was continued;
the sound of rushing waters--and then my vision became clearer. I
remember the white sandy beach that seemed covered with eggs, and the
ringing noise in my ears--the screaming of the sea-birds. All this
passed through my brain with the rapidity of lightning; then, rushing
frantically to the sea, I swallowed greedily large draughts of water.
The cove was filled with other swimmers, that gnashed and gritted
their teeth, as if mocking my suffering. They were, in reality, seals;
but, almost a maniac, I jumped about among them (so others afterwards
informed me), cutting all kinds of pranks; at which the whole school
retreated with fear. All then became a blank to me.

“I was next aroused by the voices of people engaged in conversation,
together with the strong smell of liquors, and, opening my eyes, I
found myself in a comfortable berth in the cabin of a vessel, which,
by a perceptible motion, I knew to be under way. ‘He has come to,’
said a rough voice; ‘there’s nothing like an internal as well as
external application of brandy.’ Two or three persons came to the
berth, and questioned me regarding my ‘island excursion.’ Their various
applications had restored my system to a comparative degree of vigor;
and, assisted by the second officer, I went on deck to behold the
shores of Terrapin Island sinking below the horizon.

“The name of this vessel was Henry Astor; she was a Nantucket whaler,
and her captain, my deliverer from a melancholy fate, was Pinkham. I
would give his name in full, every letter of it, had not nearly sixteen
years of wandering obliterated it from my memory.

“A few days’ sail brought us to the Marquesas Islands, and by that
time the sea air and good living had perfectly restored me to health,
and I was eager for new adventures. Our captain proposed remaining
here a few days, in order to procure fresh provisions, and trade was
commenced with the natives by bartering hoop-iron, knives, beads, &c.,
in exchange for pigs, yams, cocoanuts, and other fruits. A small,
uninhabited island near by was resorted to by the islanders for
fishing, and our captain sent our boats to secure a supply for the men.
We met a party of natives with canoes on one side of the island, and we
became very friendly in our intercourse with them.

“The boat returned to the ship without me, but conveyed a message
to the effect that I should not return. The reason for so doing was
satisfactory to the sailors. Our second officer was a Portuguese, and
a vile fellow. He so exasperated his watch while on the passage from
Terrapin Island, that they were now ripe for mutiny; and having no
interest in their affairs, I did not wish to be one of their number
longer. The Henry Astor would not return to North America for two or
three years, and homeward-bound vessels (whalers) sometimes touched at
the Marquesas. Thus, if I remained with the natives, there was a chance
of my being taken off by a better-omened ship than the one I had just
left. The next day a _pearler_ hove in sight, and ran close in to land.
I raised a signal, and was soon taken on board. The vessel steered
for Hiva-oa,[4] sometimes called Dominica, and commenced business
in good earnest. The natives were employed to dive for us in four or
five fathoms of water. In this they were very expert, and some of them
could remain four minutes under water. They swam off to our boats every
morning, and worked all day, receiving in payment for their labor
pieces of red flannel and bright-colored calico.

“Strict orders were repeated to us every morning regarding our duties
for the day. We were forbidden to go within a certain distance of the
shore, as the natives were very treacherous, having captured and eaten
an English boat’s crew a short time before (1840 or ’41). Three days
passed very pleasantly, when, upon the fourth, word was given to be
diligent, as the vessel would sail for the coast of Japan with the
first fair wind. ‘What!’ exclaimed one of the boat’s crew to which I
belonged, ‘are we to leave without setting foot on Hiva-oa? Shiver my
timbers if I don’t go ashore to-morrow night, after work is done! and
the old man may send the whole ship’s company after me, if he likes.’
To this expression the other two agreed, and, not wishing to be behind
my comrades, I consented also; and before retiring to sleep we had made
arrangements for a visit to the dreaded cannibal islands.

“The next morning the boats’ crews commenced work as usual, and at
four bells in the afternoon returned to the ship. This was the time
agreed upon for carrying out our design. The natives, who were with us
during the day, had swam ashore, and disappeared among the cocoa-nut
groves, and the only living objects in sight were a party of women,
and two or three old men, the former engaged in various diversions,
and the latter sitting like statues near them. It was the custom of
these females to collect in groups near the sea-shore during the day,
and watch their husbands and lovers, who were hard at work diving
for the pearl-oyster; and taking advantage of this circumstance,
we came prepared for the party. Upon landing, we distributed from
our well-filled pockets various little presents, and were at once
treated with the greatest kindness. The looking-glass that we brought
filled them with astonishment, and Cram, a young Pennsylvanian,
was endeavoring to teach them the philosophy of it by all sorts of
gestures, when a low murmur caused us to look seaward; and lo! a long
line of men, the fathers, brothers, and lovers of the female party,
were advancing towards us, and as we hastily rose to depart, they
pointed towards the interior, and made signs for us to go inland.

“Too late we perceived our boyish error; the boat had been secured,
and there was no chance for retreat, and sullenly we marched on in
advance of the islanders. All the way Cram grumbled at the fate that
might be ours. He blessed his top-lights, then cursed them, the women,
who followed, laughing all the while at his curious physiognomy. As we
drew near the end of a beautiful valley, in which the natives dwelt,
Cram felt quite at home, and remarked that it was not ‘much of any
consequence where a person lived. These fellows,’ said he, ‘have plenty
to eat, and don’t have to turn to every morning while in port, or every
watch when at sea. If the king here will give me his daughter, I will
settle down on a farm after swallowing my sheet anchor;’ and putting
a quid of tobacco in his mouth, he squirted the juice right and left
among the crowd, who became wild with mirth.

“Thanks to our previous kind treatment to the islanders, upon arriving
at their village they gave us to understand that we should receive no
harm. We did not go through any trial, or appear before any council;
but by gestures they made known to us that each of our number could
choose a place of residence from among the two or three hundred
habitations in the valley. I fancied that of an old man, who must have
been, in his younger days, a great warrior, as his body was covered
with scars, and one longitudinal one, that, commencing upon his
forehead, and ending with the chin, excited my amazement, for the skull
had evidently been split by some weapon, from the effects of which he
sometimes labored under temporary insanity. At Cram’s suggestion, we
christened him ‘Old Split Head.’ The three other sailors were quartered
in habitations near my own, and for a few days we lived contentedly
enough, every wish being anticipated and satisfied by these kind people.

“One morning, about a week after our capture, while talking together,
the conversation was suddenly interrupted by the booming of cannon, and
we arose to go down to the beach, but were prevented by our captors.
Report after report followed, and echoed among the hills that divided
the island into separate parts. I was convinced by these sounds that
our ship had got under way, and was exercising her two or three rusty
guns for our benefit. But what seemed stranger than all was, that
these reports came from the opposite side of the island, and from an
entirely different direction from her former anchorage. Cram laughed
at my opinions, and harangued the other two after this fashion: ‘He
says that it’s our craft that’s making all that noise. I’ll sell myself
for a sea-cook if it isn’t one of those parlez-vous French men-o’-war
that’s come along, and heard that we are among this confounded set.
Now, shipmates, what say you? Here we have been loafing about like a
set of lobster marines, doing nothing, nor serving mankind, and it’s
a certain fact that we have got to be laid up here until we get away.
Now, I, for one, am heartily tired of this wasting of energies; and
as for living here listening to these cocoa-nut eaters, who expect to
tattoo us into Davy Jones’s locker, I won’t; so come along. We can make
a straight course across those big hills yonder, and then hurrah for
Johnny Crapo’s boats. If you will all start, I’ll agree to steer my
trick to-night, if it _is_ aboard a French man-o’-war. The two sailors
were overpowered by Cram’s eloquence, and swore roundly that they would
follow him, if he set out instantly.

“Now, all the while the natives had been watching us, and when
the orator, during his speech, pointed to the hills, they at once
comprehended their prisoners’ intentions, and, coming forward, an old
man, better dressed than the others, gave us to understand, through
signs, that upon the other side of the mountain dwelt other savages,
who were their enemies. Nothing daunted, Cram and his associates set
out for the mountain, followed by a party of islanders, who continued
expostulating with them until they reached its base.

“The old man, whom I now took to be the chief, in an authoritative
manner, despatched a second party but Cram and the other two showed
fight, and, rolling down large stones upon the chiefs men, prevented
them from advancing. As the three reckless fellows neared the summit
of the mountain, they were watched with intense interest by the people
below. A few minutes more, and they had disappeared on the other side,
where they met the savages of whom they had been warned, who drove them
back, fighting with great fury. The men in our village ran for their
arms, and a loud shout resounded throughout the valley. Twice I started
to join in the affray; but those near me prevented my departure. The
fight lasted about fifteen minutes, and was ended by the death of the
white men, my companions. The captors retired to their own territory,
while I wept for the first time since leaving my native land. I was
but just nineteen years of age, and was, perhaps, a prisoner for life,
destined to live apart from my countrymen. I had been nurtured in
refinement, and trained under the holy influence of a mother’s prayers;
and now a most miserable life was before me, indolence and barbarity.

“The fate of my friends was a cruel one. The natives around the base
of the mountain saw them fight bravely until overpowered by superior
numbers, when one by one the three sailors were felled to the earth.
Cram was seen struggling with an islander until another native, with
his spear, broke the poor fellow’s jaw, and he was obliged to surrender.

“About noon the next day came a deputation from the people of the
territory behind the mountains to make peace with our ‘Tehoke’
(principal chief), which caused a great palaver among our natives. To
appease our chief, a gift was presented him by the committee. It was
rolled up in cocoa-nut leaves, the first layer of which was green,
as if just gathered from the trees. While they slowly unrolled the
present, the natives clustered around it, and as wrapper after wrapper
fell to the ground, a sight was disclosed that caused me to shudder.
It was a fitting present from cannibals, the leg of poor Cram, browned
from the effects of fire. I identified the limb by means of a tattooed
ring upon the calf, that still retained the original color. But this
gift, instead of soothing the ire of the haughty ‘Tehoke,’ produced
an entirely different effect; for he called a council, and, after
a palaver, the cannibal committee were dismissed, and war formally
declared. The islanders were wild with excitement, and I was made to
sing, in the midst of the rabble, a grand _hoolo-hoolo_, and to dance,
which I did to the music of a drum, made by stretching human skin
across the ends of a short, hollow log.

“At dawn on the following day, an army of nearly three hundred men
ascended the mountain, and disappeared over the summit.

“The day of battle was one of nature’s loveliest. The rays of the sun,
with trembling light, pierced the dense foliage of the groves around
the absent warriors’ homes, and sparkled upon the cool streams of water
meandering along the valley, and falling in little cascades among the
rocks. It would seem a time and place for quiet thoughts and pious
meditation. But my mind was not in a fit state to appreciate the beauty
that reposed around me. I wandered through the valley, thinking of my
curious situation, of the strange beings who were my companions, and
my isolation from civilization. I thought of the happy American home
that I had left, and my memory went back to a beautiful Sabbath morning
(the day prior to my departure from home), when, taking the hand of my
sister, I led her to a little wood behind the house, and there she sang
to me a song, the words of which have since rung in my ears, through
all my wanderings, over sea and land, and have kept me from the errors
that have caused the downfall of thousands.

“Perched upon the top of a coca-nut tree, Old Split Head kept on
the lookout for news. Beyond him another dark head peeped above the
foliage, and still nearer the mountain another and another native could
be seen. This was a telegraphic line of communication.

“Soon after the natives had disappeared over the mountain, the reports
of a few muskets, obtained from the English boat’s crew that was
captured some months before, together with distant shouts, told me that
the game was up. After this, a long silence caused me to doubt as to
who were the victors, for I believed that if our party were successful,
they would return quickly with what booty could be obtained.

“About four o’clock in the afternoon, a courier appeared on the brow
of the mountain, and a telegraphic message came quickly to Old Split
Head, who was beside me at the door. Now, as my guardian attempted to
communicate the intelligence to me, he became so excited that he could
do nothing more than jump high in the air, roll over and over upon the
ground and shake his long spear at a tree. He then caught me by the
arm, and led me to the beach, where the army arrived, an hour after, in
six large war-canoes, each holding about fifty rowers. These canoes,
together with three men, and many pigs and weapons, had been captured
during the engagement. The three captive warriors lay bound in the
bottom of the boat, and were unable to move hand or foot.

“Now commenced a great hoolo-hoolo, during which I was embraced by the
Tehoke in presence of the multitude. The three prisoners were removed
to a little square formed by a wall of stones, and left under a guard
for the night, and I was informed that upon the next day I should
receive a high _taboo_. This is a mark of distinction and privilege,
differing according to the grade or class of the taboo--some causing
the person tabooed to stand above those who have a low mark upon them.
This favor is only given to men; the women do not receive it, and are,
therefore, in one sense, slaves to their husbands. The next morning
the Tehoke performed the process of tabooing, by passing over my head
a piece of _tappa_ (native cloth), and pronouncing several words not
comprehended by me. After this the Tehoke presented me with two wives,
one of whom was his own daughter, and Split Head, with two ingenious
fellows, built in the course of the day a new habitation, in which I
was to dwell.

“Now came the hour in which the prisoners taken during the battle were
to meet their doom. They were seized by a party of natives, and each
one placed erect, with his back against a cocoa-nut tree. Around the
neck of the victim, and trunk of the tree, was wound a short piece of
native rope, and a stick being placed in the bight, it was turned
around several times, until the tongue protruded from the mouth, and
the prisoner was dead. Deep holes were dug and lined with stones, upon
which a large fire was kindled, and allowed to continue burning until
the stones were very hot. The ashes and sticks were raked out, and the
bodies of the prisoners, which had been previously wrapped in many
layers of cocoa-nut leaves, were laid in the cavities, and hot stones
placed upon them. There was no chance of straying from the spot, as I
sat close by the Tehoke; but I sickened and my head grew dizzy at the
horrid sight. The horrors of a cannibal feast I will not describe.
Suffice it to say that the natives became in my eyes as wild animals
devouring prey.

“I now led a more agreeable life than I had formerly enjoyed, that
is to say, if enjoyment consists in having a mind free from care or
trouble. Before the taboo had been placed upon me, there were times
when some of the natives attempted great freedom with my person, and
were a source of trouble to me. Now I lived as the chief’s son-in-law,
and as a person of distinction, as I possessed a high taboo. I was
ingenious, and by repairing the old flint-lock muskets of the chief,
took a new stand as a man of superior endowment. As month after month
passed away, I became more accustomed to my situation, and felt, at
times, almost contented with my lot. I began to acquire the language,
and took part in the councils of the chiefs, where my word was valued.
During all this time I passed but one ordeal, that of _tattooing_. I
was taken by force from my dwelling, and, being laid upon my back,
underwent an operation, the effects of which I shall carry with me to
the grave.”

So saying, Don Guillermo divested himself of his shirt, and there were
visible upon his breast two curious specimens of Marquesian tattooing.
“This figure, on my left side,” said he, “is intended to represent the
moon, while the one on the right is the sun.” Upon his thighs and arms
were other figures equally curious as those upon his breast. He then
continued: “Once I was dragged out to be ornamented upon the face; but
I struggled and begged so hard to escape from the hands of the artists,
that Old Split Head, whose influence was considerable, interceded
with the islanders, and I was permitted to go free. Having acquired
the dialect, the natives placed more confidence in me than they had
previously done, and I walked along the sea-coast two or three times a
week with the hope of seeing a vessel. Once or twice I descried ships
in the distance, but was doomed again and again to disappointment, as
they did not approach the island; and for eleven long, weary months,
did I remain a prisoner among the cannibals of Hiva-oa.

“In conversing with the islanders, they had often spoken of a
foreigner, who, by some accident, had been a resident among them. They
called him Oorie, and though I questioned them regarding his escape,
they would not give me any clew by means of which I could ascertain the
method he used to obtain his freedom. I afterwards comforted myself by
believing that as _one_ person had been taken off the island, another
might meet with the same good fortune; and from the time I received the
above information, my eyes were always gazing over the surface of the
ocean for a glimpse of a distant sail.

“As the eleventh month of my life among the cannibals drew to its
close, a whaler from North America dropped anchor in the little bay,
and almost in the same spot where, nearly a year before, I had gazed
with admiration upon the tropical scenery of my new island home, the
prison-ground that debarred me from civilization. The rare event of
a ship visiting Hiva-oa threw its inhabitants into a state of great
excitement, some of whom were for having me closely guarded, while
others, too much occupied in getting ready their fruits for a market,
only laughed and shouted to increase the confusion that everywhere
prevailed. During the hubbub and clamor of voices, I conversed with
some of the females, whose ideas of a ship and the uses to which one is
applied, were of the most primitive kind. ‘Where does the great monster
live, and from what country does it travel?’ they asked, gazing at the
same time eagerly into my face, as if expecting to receive an incorrect
reply. ‘It comes from my own country, which is a long way off’, I
answered. To this one young girl gravely responded, ‘Then your home is
in the clouds, for this thing (the ship) rains down; we have seen the
same before two or three times.’

“The men swam off to the vessel, and, while absent, I endeavored to
persuade some of the chiefs to allow me to go upon the same errand the
next day; but in this I was unsuccessful. They sternly objected to my
appeals, and, urged to desperation, I projected an escape, but was
twice foiled in the attempt.

“The second night after the whaler arrived, I left the hut before the
islanders arose from their slumbers, and, though my movements had been
watched, I reached a branch of the valley stream, and, wading along
its course up to my chin in water, soon entered the sea, and boldly
struck out for the vessel that lay at her anchorage.

“The man who had the anchor watch saw the gleam of light in my wake,
caused by the displacement of the water, for the moon was high in
the heavens, and the smallest object could be easily distinguished.
Thinking I was a savage on a predatory excursion, he called the mate,
who in turn aroused the captain. A rope was thrown to me, and half
an hour after leaving my hut of canes and cocoa-nut boughs, I was
surrounded by a half-naked group of down-east greenhorns, who kindly
presented me with a suit of clothes, in place of my island one of tappa.

“The next morning, the master of the whaler, Captain Brown, thinking
that my escape might exasperate the natives, mast-headed the topsail
yards, and heaved short our cable, to be in readiness to leave in the
afternoon, at the moment the heavens gave indications of a breeze.
While these preparations were under way, Old Split Head came down the
beach, and loudly shouted my name. To prove his affection for me, I did
not answer his call; whereupon he danced about for some time, clutching
his hair, and then rolling upon the sand, appearing to be in hysterics.

“Towards three o’clock came the wished-for breeze, and with it the
order to ‘fill away the topsails.’ Springing to the sheets, a party
of us hauled them home, while others heaved up the anchor, and as we
slowly stretched away from Hiva-oa, I breathed a prayer of thanks for
my safe deliverance. The long line of natives upon the beach, at sight
of our departure, could restrain themselves no longer, for above forty
threw themselves into the sea, and followed after us like a school of
porpoises. I threw out a rope for Old Split Head, and the rapidity with
which he ascended the ship’s side drew many remarks of admiration from
the sailors, who declared that ‘no salt could have done it better.’
The instant he touched the deck he embraced me, and, refusing to be
comforted, pointed over the ship’s side at one of my wives, who was
_treading water_, and softly uttered her name many times--‘Cuahoo!
Cuahoo!’ Captain Brown gave the old fellow several pieces of red
flannel, and a few pounds of tobacco, and, rolling the latter in the
cloth, he lashed the bundle to his head, and with a long, tearful
embrace, we parted.

“This was the last time I saw Old Split Head, who was the truest and
best friend I ever had; and many times since we parted, when amid
trials and sufferings, my thoughts have turned to our little hut
beneath the cocoa-nut grove, where so many hours had been passed in
his company, savage though he was; and I have regretted leaving that
romantic island. Then reason and the voice of duty have said, ‘You
were born among civilized people, and it is your duty to act manfully
against vicissitudes; but to live a life of ease and pleasure,
surrounded by things that injure rather than strengthen the noble
faculties of the soul, is sinful, and is not in accordance with the
principles of truth and of the Bible.’

“From Hiva-oa a breeze wafted us into Talcahuano, the port of
Concepcion, Chili, where I remained for some months, working at
different trades, in nearly all of which I was able to compete with
the native workmen. I could relate to you many interesting stories
of the Araucanian Indians, who occupy the south of Chili, and often
come to Concepcion to barter their ponchos, mantas, &c., for English
articles; but having occupied much of your time, I shall draw my
narrative to a close as soon as possible.

“While residing in Chili, I made the acquaintance of two young men,
who, having visited Juan Fernandez, spoke encouragingly of the chances
that existed for making money upon that island. And they proposed that
we should purchase a boat and repair to the island, where thousands of
goats run wild, and there pass a few months in securing the skins of
these animals, after which we were to sail to Masafuero, an adjacent
island, where there were a large number of seals.

“I had earned by this time a sufficient sum of money to accept of
their offer, and they being supplied with like amounts, we purchased a
large whale boat, a stock of provisions, and three dogs, besides guns,
ammunition, and all the accessories necessary to insure success to our
enterprise. We bargained with the captain of a vessel that was about
leaving Talcahuano for a sperm whale cruise, to leave us to ourselves
when the ship hove in sight of Juan Fernandez, near which his course
lay. One thing more was yet to be done; we had no person to do the
drudgery of preparing and cooking our food. Our choice, therefore,
fell upon a stout negro, called Pedro, who was fluent in the use of
the English and Spanish languages, and for a low sum we secured his
services.

“The ship put to sea with a gentle breeze one fine morning, and early
on the fourth day the rough peaks of the island were seen above the
horizon.

“Preparations commenced immediately for disembarkation. Our little
craft was launched, the masts stepped, her cargo carefully adjusted,
and quickly tumbling in our dogs and Pedro, we bade adieu to the whaler.

“Though the breeze blew fresh at the time we left the ship, and our
party spread every stitch of canvas, it was not until night set in
that our boat grounded amid the surf upon the white sandy beach of the
romantic Robinson Crusoe island, and we all crawled on shore drenched
with spray to the skin.

“A few days after, a hut was completed, and our party commenced
business in good earnest; and while the three whites were occupied
in capturing the goats, the black, Pedro, officiated as cook and
housekeeper in our little dwelling. Among the cliffs the goats
scampered about singly and in little parties. It was our object to
concentrate all stragglers, and driving them into some little nook or
valley, from which there was no escape, we shot them down, or, when
practicable, captured them with the lasso. In collecting the stray
goats into parties, we were greatly assisted by our dogs, which had
been trained for the purpose.

“When the animals abounded in places where the valleys were large
and did not afford opportunities for capturing them, we built stone
enclosures, and in them intrapped large numbers. To capture and skin
thirty goats was considered no more than a good day’s labor for each
man. Thus our pile of skins towered higher each day, and promised us a
little fortune when we should dispose of them on the continent.

“While enjoying this success, a distant sail was distinguished one
afternoon by Pedro, who ran out of his domicile to inform us of the
welcome fact. The following day our hut was honored by the presence of
one of South America’s best and greatest children, the patriotic and
learned Don Domingo F. Sarmiento, who, having been sent abroad, by the
government of Chili, to visit different portions of the world, to gain
information of superior customs, with the intention of introducing such
as were practicable to that republic on his return, had first called at
this island, which belongs to that government.

“Though sent upon such a commission, Sarmiento was not a Chileno by
birth, but had resided in Chili some years, having been exiled from his
native country, the Argentine Republic, by the tyrannical Rosas, who
was ever uneasy when a philanthropist or scholar was within the land
over which he stretched his arm of iron and bathed his hands in the
blood of her people. It is unnecessary for me to give you an account
of the stay of this great man upon the island; suffice it to say, we
became very intimate, he sleeping nine successive nights upon my bed
of goat-skins; and when I visited him in Chili, after his return from
Europe and North America, he presented me with a copy of his travels,
‘_Viages de Sarmiento_,’ in which you will find the particulars of
the visit. Before General Rosas was driven out of office and country,
Sarmiento himself had crossed the Cordillera and Pampas, and was
fighting against the army of the tyrant; and while on a visit to him,
he said, handing me a trusty sword, ‘Don Guillermo, your ingenuity is
remarkable. I have not been able to clean this instrument. Will you
oblige me by removing from it all traces of rust?’ He then reached his
hand above an _escritorio_, and as he held out another weapon, a smile
playing upon his noble features, he said, ‘My friend, this sword you
need not clean; I shall keep it as a memorial; for upon its surface
are blood-stains from the heart of a tyrant, who would have been like
Rosas, had not I, while in the engagement, sought him out and thrust
my trusty steel through his heart. Now I can go back to the Argentine
Republic and to freedom, for the tyrant and his _Masorca_[5] have been
driven from their stronghold, and their dread influence is at an end.’

“After remaining some few months on Juan Fernandez and the neighboring
Masafuero, a whaler arrived and took off our company with their
property. Before the ship left the island, according to a promise I had
made to Sarmiento, I cut his name deep in a ledge of rock, where it can
be seen at the present day.

“Welcome was the first sight of the main land after months spent upon
a small island. When we reached Valparaiso, to our dismay the price of
goat-skins and furs had fallen, and in place of receiving the expected
several thousand dollars in return for my goods, I quietly pocketed
six hundred dollars, and swallowed my disappointment. The goat-skins
brought one real (12¹⁄₂ cents), and in some cases two reals each, while
the seals commanded from three to six reals.

“Not caring to follow a roving life any longer, I proceeded to the
capital of Chili, the beautiful Santiago, and for a time found
entertainment in pursuing various trades. About this time I made the
acquaintance of a young artist from North America. Troubles had driven
him, like myself, from a good home, and, being often together, our
attachment became such that it was spoken of by every one. One evening,
as we walked arm in arm along the Tauamar, and near Fort Santa Lucia,
he pointed in the direction of a nunnery, and said, ‘Within those walls
is a young lady that I would have married long ago, but her parents,
despising one they were pleased to call a _gringo_, placed her in that
building, fearing that she might elope with her lover to some other
part of the country. Once or twice I have received letters from her,
and, like myself, she does not care to live longer, and unless we can
be united soon, nothing but the death of the suicide is left to me.’
I was greatly affected at this disclosure, which only served to bind
our friendship still stronger. I was not the only friend from whom the
young artist could draw sympathy. A daring North American, armed with
a Colt’s revolver and a fine key-hole saw, repaired one dark night to
the nunnery, scaled its walls, and tearing off the tiles, cut a hole
through the porous wood-roof, and took from the praying-room the young
betrothed, who had made a vow to her conjuror to resort to that place
each night to pray until her prayers were answered, but in a very
different manner than the priest would have wished, had he known the
blessing asked for.

“The next day the lovers were united, and bade me farewell forever.
Before the _vigilantes_ were summoned to retake the couple or arrest
the perpetrator of the deed, against whom injured Catholicism raised a
loud cry, the bride and bridegroom, mounted on fleet horses, were on
their way to Bolivia, where they are now probably residing.

“It was proved that, at the time of the rescue, our countryman, the
artist, was in some other place; and being his friend, and known to be
ingenious, I was pointed out as the culprit. People became excited,
and while the _vigilantes_ were about, a trusty friend brought me two
horses, and volunteering to become my travelling companion, we set out
for the Argentine Republic, that lay on the eastern side of the Andes.
The Uspallata and Portillo passes were watched, and nothing remained
but to follow down the valley of Tupungato to the Planchon Pass.
Without sustenance for our animals, and but a small supply of food,
we commenced a journey that the old _arrieros_ themselves would have
turned back from. The lofty sides of the mountains hemmed us in, and we
followed on, day after day, until our horses died, and we were on the
point of starvation. At last we reached the Planchon, which is close
upon Patagonia, and crossing this flat mountain, which is composed
of light gravel, resembling snuff in color and fineness of grain, we
came upon a little fort, from which a few soldiers ran on seeing us,
shouting, ‘The Indians! the Indians!’ We left them after quieting their
fears and receiving a little food.

“The next day two Indians approached, and uttered repeatedly the word
‘_amite_’ (friend). They kindly undertook to guide us to Mendoza, a
town that lay one hundred and eighty leagues to the north. These two
savages captured with their _boliadores_ several ostriches and one
or two guanacos, upon the flesh of which we feasted. When within two
days of the town, our guides pointed out the true direction for us to
follow, and, shaking hands with them, we parted.

“Upon arriving in Mendoza I found employment for a while, but, not
liking the place, went north to San Juan, while my friend returned to
Chili. And here I have lived for nine years, having been married for
the last six or seven to the daughter of Don ----, an old soldier, who
has fought in the battles of the revolutions which spring up every few
years in this province.”

Alter returning to North America, I wrote many letters of inquiry for
the benefit of Don Guillermo. Several of these letters were answered.
Others, probably, never reached the destinations for which they were
intended.

I found that a portion of my friend’s family were still living, and
their heartfelt letters to me amply repaid the exertions I had made to
discover their residences. The history of Don Guillermo has a touch of
romance about it. One person wrote as follows: “F. D----g (the father
of Don G.) was a younger son of the high chamberlain to the King of
Saxony, and as his elder brother took the office and title of his
father, he, F., took to the army, as is usual in that country, and,
just before the close of our revolutionary war, came to New York as
major of a regiment of Hessians. After peace was declared, he remained,
and married a wealthy lady,” &c., &c.

Thus much regarding his parentage. The cause that drove him from the
land that he even now adores, remains a secret with the few in whose
breasts it will be sure of a safe keeping.

From another quarter I received the following lines, which were
written by the cooper of the Henry Astor, who took charge of the ship
on her homeward passage: “In looking over my journal of notes of that
voyage, I have not mentioned the coming on board of the young man (Don
Guillermo) at Galápagos Islands; but on the 7th of October, 1842, I
have merely mentioned that we lost, by desertion, while at Dominica
(one of the Marquesas Islands), a boy. The particulars of which I
recorded in the ship’s log book.

“The particulars of his coming on board, or of his leaving, have passed
from me, and I could wish that many other occurrences of that eventful
voyage might. H. C.”

Letters from Nantucket inform me that the log-book of the Henry
Astor was lost in the great fire of 1846. The captain’s private
journal, brought home by Mr. C., the cooper of the ship, contains
the information desired. “A Scotch boy, by the name of James Walker
(assumed name), deserted the ship at the Isle of Dominica, one of the
Marquesas, on the 8th day of October, 1842; and they had good reason to
believe that he was enticed away from the ship.”

Not having seen the captain’s journal, I cannot learn anything
relative to the men who accompanied Don Guillermo when he left the
vessel. I have added these few facts, thinking that they might be
interesting to the relatives of Don Guillermo, who are now able to
carry on a correspondence with him.


FOOTNOTES:

[4] Hiva-oa is about seventy miles south-west of Nukuheva, the island
upon which Mr. Herman Melville, the author of “Typee,” passed four
months among the islanders.

[5] The Masorca was a club of three hundred men, organized by Rosas to
cut the throats of his political foes and defenseless citizens, who
would not succumb to his tyrannical sway.




                            CHAPTER XVIII.

                          CROSSING THE ANDES.


While the fig, the olive, and the orange trees were clothed in green,
and vast herds of cattle from the great pampas were arriving, to be
fattened in the clover-fields, the mountains still remained covered
with snow, and impassable, save to the trained courier. Still I had
seen all that rendered San Juan attractive, and a longing to return to
my own country came so strongly upon me, that I determined to risk a
passage to Chili at the earliest possible moment.

It was only when my intentions became known that I was made aware of
the numbers and kindly feelings of my San Juan friends; for so many
were interested in my welfare, and warned me so earnestly of the danger
of the journey, and attempted to receive from me the promise that I
would remain with them, at least until the snow had disappeared, that
I could not but feel I had indeed fallen in with some of the truly
hospitable and generous peoples that here and there are scattered
over the world, making it, as do the oases in the desert, not all a
dreariness.

I learned from these friends that the northern passes that led to
Copiapo and Coquimbo were buried in the snow, and that, on the
first-named road, a party of eight _arrieros_, while lately attempting
to cross into Chili, had been frozen to death. The Coquimbo road was
said to be equally as bad, for there eleven experienced guides had just
fallen victims to a fierce snow storm in the valleys of the Andes. The
two southern passes of Uspallata and Portillo were more elevated than
the two northern ones, but were much shorter. The Portillo could not be
passed by man. The mail road of Uspallata was the one fixed upon by me
as the most practicable; and though the courier reported the loss of
two young Chilenos, who probably had been swept away by the mountain
torrent, I believed that, having been reared in a New England climate,
whose winters are rigorous, I could bear the hardships of the cold
better than the native guides themselves.

While I was contemplating an early start, an old man called, and
requested permission to give an account of his sufferings, he having
attempted the passage of the Cordilleras a few days before.

“We started,” he said, “with every prospect of success. The weather had
been settled for several days, and with our mules we left the outer
sierra, and penetrated far into the mountains. But good fortune did
not remain the same, for suddenly a great _temporal_ came flying from
the south, and enveloped us for many hours in its terrible folds. The
snow fell in _clouds_, and I, of all my party, escaped; my companions
are frozen in the drifts, and there they will remain until the melting
of the snow. Look at my hands; all of the fingers were frozen, and
also my cheeks and nose. _No, señor. Norte Americano, no pasa vd. la
Cordillera!_”

The poor old guide was in a pitiful condition; but, undoubtedly, had
he been twenty years younger, he would have fared better. I confess
that this news, with the entreaties of my friends, forced me to
postpone crossing the mountains until a later date. I consented to
remain, and for several weeks tried to content myself; but when four
weeks had passed, I became resolved, and packing my notes, and a few
specimens of natural history, in my canvas bag, I announced to my
friends my firm determination of leaving the country.

Don Guillermo, on seeing that I was in earnest, ordered his peon to
lasso my horse, and bring him to the corral, and made every preparation
for my comfort in the journey that his inventive skill could suggest.

On Saturday, November 10 (the last spring month of that latitude), I
bade adieu to the family, and started on the road to the city. Don
Guillermo accompanied me to the river, that was swollen by the floods
from the valleys of the Andes, and went roaring along its course
with a fearful rapidity. At the banks of the torrent my friend bade
me farewell, charging me to be faithful to the promise I had made
him, namely, that I would endeavor to find out the residence of his
surviving relations, whom he had left sixteen years before in North
America, during which time he had not heard one word of their welfare
or whereabouts. I promised again, and said farewell, and left him;
it was necessary for me to cross the river, and I at once spurred my
horse into the torrent, and began to ford; fortunately, the animal was
sure-footed and strong, and we landed safely on the opposite shore.

I passed most of the next day at a friend’s house, within the limits
of the town, and at dusk rode out to the post-house, and presented a
letter of introduction to the proprietor, a garrulous old don, whose
good entertainment for man and beast had made his house a favorite
resort for travellers. The don read my letter, and declared that I
should remain with him for some time, as it was impossible to cross
to Chili. The next day, Don Carlos Leon Rodriquez, minister to the
province of San Luis, attended by a priest, both of whom were on
their way to the town, stopped at the _posta_, and corroborated the
statement of the _guardo_. The former gentleman offered to present me
with letters to his friends in Mendoza, if I preferred going to that
town, and remaining until the passage across the mountains was sure and
free from all difficulties. Considering that we had never met before,
the kind proposal proved still further to me the hospitable feelings
that the educated people of the Argentine Republic bear towards North
Americans.

I had intended to continue my journey as a pedestrian across the
Andes, but it seemed necessary to take with me some beast to serve as
pack-animal, to carry my small collection of specimens, blankets, &c.,
to the port of Valparaiso, As it might become necessary to abandon
the animal along the road, I selected a specimen of horse-flesh which
would have afforded a student of anatomy easy facilities for osseous
examinations, without removing the hide.

During the forenoon I bade _adios_ to my new acquaintances, and with
one end of my lasso in my hand, and the other fastened to the bridle of
my horse, I led the way, on foot, happy in feeling that I had fairly
commenced the last stage of my journey towards the Pacific.

Taking a south-westerly course across the desert, I travelled until
three o’clock over the same dreary waste, when a deep fissure was
observed in the sierra, which I entered, and soon found myself within
the Flecha. Before passing this peculiar gap, a word or two regarding
it may prove interesting. For many leagues along its course the sierra
presents an impassable barrier to man or beast. The Flecha is a narrow
passage from the desert on the east to the valley on the western side.
The sides of the Flecha are of solid rock, rising perpendicularly to a
great height.

The pass exhibits the action of water upon its sides, for the rock has
been worn smooth in past ages, and the bed of the passage is covered
with pebbles. Undoubtedly, a long time since, a strong body of water
found its way through this place, and may have submerged the plain
below; but whether this gap was the bed of a natural stream, or mere
vent, through which the melting snow escaped during the spring months,
cannot now be well determined. The effect that the lofty sides of the
Flecha have upon independent objects is very curious. My horse seemed
to dwindle to the size of a Shetland pony when I removed a few yards
from him, and two muleteers, who passed through at the same time,
looked like pygmies.

Half way up the precipice were holes, said to have been cut by the
ancient discoverers of the country, to assist in searching for precious
metals, but, proving unprofitable, had been abandoned. I continued
along the valley until dusk, when the barking of dogs, and occasional
glimpses of a light, guided me to one side of the valley, where a few
huts constitute the hamlet of El Durazno. These huts were inhabited by
muleteers, who suffered greatly from poverty. Here and there the rough
soil had been levelled, so as to be susceptible of irrigation, and a
few patches of clover gave a cheering aspect, when contrasted with the
barren mountains behind the hamlet. An old woman invited me to enter
her house, and pass the night, as it was damp outside, and the heavy
clouds that hovered about us looked as if about to descend.

The hut was built of sticks and mud, and adjoining it was the kitchen.

Having turned my horse adrift, I entered, and, as I reclined upon a
skin couch, commenced inquiring of the hostess relative to the snow on
the main Cordillera. I was unable, however, to obtain any information
from that source. Our party was soon increased by the entry of several
rude-looking fellows, armed with long knives. The place was so small
that we reclined, packed one against the other, men, women, and
children, promiscuously. The old woman commenced cooking an _asado_
upon the fire; it had hardly begun to splutter and crackle, when the
dog that had sat beside the fire caught up the meat in his mouth, and
commenced masticating it with great _gusto_. The woman, screaming out,
“_O, sus Ave Maria!_” made a clutch at the dog, but was unsuccessful in
recovering the prize. One of the men caught the animal by the throat,
and choked him until the meat was drawn from his mouth, when, with
a hasty “_Ha, perro!_” it was returned to the fire, and cooked for
the lookers-on. More men and dogs came in, and, thinking it best to
retreat while it remained in my power to do so, I requested my hostess
to allow me to retire. Taking a saucer of fat, in which a bit of rag
was burning, she led the way into the other shanty, and assisted in
spreading my saddle cloths upon a rough sofa, built of boards, which
had been placed in the middle of the floor to prevent the approach of
the _binchucas_ that were secreted in the crevices in the walls.

These uncomfortable disturbers of night dreams are as large as the
common May beetle, and are armed with a bill resembling that of a
mosquito, which is used with great effect upon the victim. Before
fixing upon a person, the body of the _binchuca_ is thin and flat; but
after his feast is over, he is bloated and disgusting to look upon.
As this tormentor is many times larger than the mosquito, so does the
irritability caused by its leeching process exceed in like proportion
that of the other pest.

When about to withdraw from the room, the woman bade me sleep with the
utmost confidence, and not fear any harm. But as the conversation of
the men in the kitchen had been about the _plata_ that might be in my
possession, I was very particular to impress her with the idea that
North Americans feared nothing; and at the same time I drew a long
knife from under my _poncho_, and placed it beneath the sheep skin that
was to serve for my bed. When she withdrew, I lay down; but as I had
a thought of the _binchucas_ before I prepared for sleep, I carefully
rolled myself in my blankets, Indian fashion, and defied them to do
their worst.

Hardly had I begun to doze, when a sensation of something disagreeable,
touching me, aroused me to the fact that the vile pests were coming
from every quarter of the hovel. I could hear them crawling up the
sides of the room and across the ceiling, when with their usual degree
of impudence, one after another dropped plump upon my body. But my
swathing clothes served as an armor, and they could not enter in to
the feast. All the while they clung with considerable tenacity to the
coarse blankets, trying to effect an entrance, but they had met their
conqueror; for, after waiting until the swarming was over, and the
army had fairly camped upon me, I suddenly and carefully rolled over
and over upon the sofa, until the life was forced out of nearly all of
them, when, being satisfied that a great victory had been achieved, I
dropped into a deep slumber.

When morning came, and I passed out of the hut, I found that the valley
was filled with mist, and I deferred setting out until the thick
clouds had scattered. About nine o’clock a breeze sprang up, which
soon cleared the valley of mists, and I resumed my journey. Soon after
my leaving El Durazno, the valley expanded into a plain of a desert
character. The country between the mountains again became undulating
and broken; at three leagues from the last hamlet, El Sequion, a
collection of two or three mud houses and several ranchos, appeared.

From one of these ranchos a _China_ (half Indian) woman came out, and
questioned me as to my motives for travelling alone, on foot, in the
desolate valley. When I spoke of crossing the Cordillera, the good
creature lifted both her hands, and exclaimed in colloquial Spanish,
“_Por Dios_, don’t go any farther. A man from Chili stopped here the
other day--his mouth and cheeks were like a soft peach with the frost!”
Another woman joined us, and declared that I was too young to be so far
from home, and questioned me to the effect “if my mother knew that I
was out.” In their inquiries, however, they exhibited a kindness that
to me was very gratifying, and I felt that in case of accident upon the
road, I had at least two friends near at hand.

Beyond the Sequion, the valley grew narrower, and in places was so
filled with stones and detritus as to lame the old horse. The road now
became a mere defile, the steep sides of the sierras towering above it
to a great height, their bareness being sometimes relieved by dwarf
cacti, that grew in crevices where soil had lodged; these plants were
in flower, some white, others of a yellow hue.

The clouds again enveloped the mountains, and while I was groping
along over the broken rock, the tinkling of a mule’s bell broke the
stillness, and a moment later I came upon a circle of pack-saddles
and mules’ cargoes, lying upon the ground. A deep voice called out,
“Come here, friend;” and I was soon acquainted with the capataz and
muleteers of Don Fernando de Oro, a rich San Juan merchant, who had
sent his troop to Uspallata to await an opportunity to cross to Chili,
in advance of the troops of the other merchants. The don was daily
expected by the capataz, who had been three or four days on the road
already. The capataz urged me to remain with the troop until the
next morning, which invitation I accepted, and tying my horse to some
resinous bushes, I sat down to a sumptuous meal of boiled corn, dried
beef, and pepper, while my jaded animal satisfied himself in cropping
the tops of the bushes, and a kind of stunted weed that grew among the
rocks. Towards dusk it rained, but my heavy blanket kept me dry. The
guides huddled around the dying embers, vainly endeavoring to warm
their benumbed limbs; around us the hills seemed to be shaken by the
heavy thunders that reverberated along the mountain tops.

Fearing that my horse would give out, as he had lived mostly upon
bushes and coarse herbage since leaving San Juan, I arose early, and,
guided by the bright starlight, caught my animal, and led him up the
valley. A spur of the sierra blocked up the valley, and this steep
ascent had to be climbed by the poor animal, he halting every few steps
to draw breath. Having reached the summit, he heaved a deep sigh, as if
conscious of having finished a hard task.

A magnificent view rewarded me for the exertion of making the ascent.
The rocky grandeur filled me with awe, for I was surrounded by a
sublime chaos--broken hills, valleys, and barren cliffs of the sierra.

A white cloud passed over the valley, shutting me out from sight of
the world below; it was no easy task to follow the rocky path beyond;
sometimes it led down abrupt descents into dismal valleys, then again
almost to the level of the summit of the mountain range. Along this
crooked path but one mule can pass at a time, and there are places
where it requires but a single unsteady movement to send the loaded
animal into the abyss below. For nearly a mile the sierra on the left
side was formed of red freestone, and was, in many places, as regular
as a castle wall. In this lonely place the least sound would catch my
ear.

The sierra that I had crossed is called the Paramilla, or “bleak
place;” in the warmest day a cold wind from the snow peaks of the
Andes blows drearily across it. Leaving the broken mass of rock,
the path descended abruptly into a little valley, which contained a
stone hut, and a corral for goats. This desolate spot was enlivened
by the presence of one of the prettiest señoras that I ever met. She
informed me that her husband, who was then hunting guanacos, supported
himself principally by keeping goats that browsed upon the sides of
the mountains. When he wished to butcher any of the guanacos, he, with
the assistance of a pack of trained curs, drove them into natural
rock-walled corrals among the mountains, where, hemmed in, the animals
were easily despatched with the _boliadores_ and knife.

Leaving the valley, I ascended to a high plain that seemed to be on a
level with the summits of the neighboring range of the Cordilleras, and
as the sun was about sinking below the western horizon, I perceived
that this was to be my camping-place for the night. Laying the saddle
upon the ground for a pillow, and carefully spreading the blankets, I
lay down to rest, having first tied my horse to a stunted bush, which
he vainly tried to eat.

I dropped into a restless slumber; but an hour later, a wild, desolate
cry caused me to spring from my blankets, and prepare for defence. I
had been told many stories of the cruelty of the puma, or American
lion, and at this moment feared that one of these animals was on the
plain. It was along this part of the road that guides had seen their
tracks, and hunters had run them down with dogs a few miles from the
plain upon which I had encamped.

Another wild cry, and the animal passed along the plain without heeding
either my horse or me, and, glad to be left in peace, I sank into a
sound sleep, that continued unbroken until the rising sun gilded the
snowy crests of the lofty Cordillera.

It was a beautiful scene that lay before me. Across the plain floated
white clouds of mist, like airy spirits, while before me lay a narrow
valley, through which the road led to Uspallata. Upon one side of the
plain rose several low hills, green with coarse herbage, upon which a
small herd of llamas were feeding, as if unconscious of the presence of
man.

I soon was ready to start; but my old horse seemed incapable of moving.
I rubbed his stiff limbs until I had worked myself into a perspiration;
he was so far recovered as to be able to move slowly. I seized the
lasso, and led him on as before.

The road descended to the ravine just referred to, and for an hour or
so my journey led through the surrounding cliffs; but at length we
again emerged upon a flat plain, covered with low bushes, and over this
I led the way until afternoon, when a green spot at the foot of a high
range of mountains, and the hut of a farmer, caught my eye, and soon
after I drew up before the last house in the Argentine Republic--the
Guarde of Uspallata.

Before I could fairly disencumber my horse of his burden, he bolted for
the clover-field behind the house, and commenced devouring the fodder
with an avidity that told too well of his famished condition.

The person in charge of the house informed me that the passing was
very difficult, and advised me to remain a few days; but, knowing too
well that delays are dangerous, I made preparations for leaving on the
next day. I was to leave the horse in the clover-pasture, and strap
my blankets and other articles to my back, and in this way cross the
main range of the Andes. From this I had no alternative; and so, after
arranging everything for an early start, I lay down under the porch to
take a _siesta_.

I was soon awakened by the tinkling of a mule-bell, and upon rising
saw three persons before the guarde, accompanied by several mules. Two
of these men were dressed in the gaucho fashion, but the other had
the garb and manners of a merchant, which he proved to be; for, as
I approached him, he offered me his hand, and, with a polite _“para
servir vd.,”_ introduced himself as Don Fernando de Oro, a merchant of
San Juan. He informed me that the postmaster near San Juan, with whom I
passed a day and two nights, had requested him to keep a sharp lookout
for a young _gringo_ that was on the road, and to take him safely under
his protecting arm to the American consul in Valparaiso. I felt much
flattered by this acknowledgment, and at once accepted Don Fernando as
my guardian and protector.

The don remarked that his troop of mules, which I had passed two days
before, would arrive on that night, and remain in the clover-field
until a passage could be effected. The troop came in at a late hour.

The next day was a lovely one; and as the weather gave promise of
being settled for a few days, preparations for setting out on the
following morning were commenced. The mules for Don Fernando, and two
guides, were selected from the troop of ninety, and two extra ones were
carefully shod, to answer in case of any emergency. My friend declared
that it would be unfair not to allow my horse to accompany us across
the Andes, after he had been through so much privation; therefore a
heavy pair of shoes were selected from the store mules’ pack, and
nailed firmly to his feet. “Now,” said the don, as he viewed the lank
form of the animal with no little merriment, “Art has exhausted herself
upon you, and Nature alone must support you on the road to-morrow.”

Early on the following morning, Don Fernando, his two guides, and
myself, with our animals, crossed the little river that ran past the
guard-house, and at sunrise entered a narrow cleft in the sierra, and
followed a stony path, until we came in sight of the River Mendoza,
which rushed along the bed of the valley, roaring like thunder. The
path grew narrower as we progressed, sometimes following the margin of
the river, then ascending midway to the tops of the high sierra. It was
a scene of great sublimity. The river, which was a deep mud-color, from
the alluvial matter brought down from the mountain, was hemmed in by
the two parallel sierras, that towered majestically to the height of
several thousand feet.

In some places the path wound like a thread along the bold front of
a precipice; then it descended to the water, and followed its course,
until it again ascended. As we gazed above, the huge pieces of detached
rock seemed ready to fall and crush us.

The melting snow had undermined the soil in some places, and slides of
earth and stones had fallen, and covered up the track.

After crossing a little bridge that had been thrown over a stream which
flowed into the river of the valley, we came upon several ruined huts,
which the don told me once belonged to an ancient tribe of Indians that
inhabited the valleys of the Andes, and subsisted principally upon the
flesh of the wild llamas.

This was before the country had become independent of Spain; and though
many years had passed since their construction by the Indian builders,
it was interesting to note that the plaster that held the stones
together, and which was nothing but a kind of clay, still remained
unbroken, as if the structures had been but recently deserted. These
remains of the walls of the Indian dwellings were four feet in height,
and were partitioned off into small rooms.

In the corner of one of the dilapidated dwellings was a heap of stones,
surmounted by a tiny cross, made of rough twigs. The guides looked
serious as we passed it, and in answer to my questioning look, the don
told the following story:--

“When a Chileno loves, he loves with a passion so deep and strong that
honor, friends, and fortune are secondary in his estimation to her who
has thrown around him the network of her affections. A youth not long
since came from Chili to visit a relative on the Argentine side of the
Cordillera. His stay was protracted, for he had met with a beautiful
maiden, far lovelier than those of his native country; and when he
left, it was only to receive the permission of his friends to return
again, and claim her as his own.

“He crossed these mountains to Chili; but the fierce _temporales_ from
the south had commenced before he reached the main range on his return,
where the risk is greater in effecting a passage at such a season than
on any other part of the road.

“He had with him experienced guides, and a favorite mule carried his
wedding garments and the presents that he intended to offer his future
bride. On the Cumbre pass, at an elevation of twelve thousand feet, a
_temporal_ struck the party, and one by one the mules became buried in
the snow.

“The boy worked like a hero (I was with the company), and during the
storm his orders were obeyed by the muleteers with alacrity, for they
loved him well.

“But all exertions proved unsuccessful; not an animal escaped; and the
weary party descended the Cumbre into the valley, worn out with their
tremendous labors. The boy never lived to leave the valley; there he
lies,”--pointing to the cross,--“buried in his chosen spot. The guides
piled stones upon his body, to keep the condors from devouring it. See!
there is one now watching the grave.”

I looked to the place designated, and saw upon the opposite cliff a
huge dark-colored bird, that stood sentinel-like, a solemn watcher
above the unfortunate Chileno’s grave.

Not far beyond, the path again troubled us by its extreme narrowness,
and a dizziness came over me as I gazed far below into the mountain
torrent.

Along this part of the road were piles of the bones of animals that had
died upon the road during the past years. Some perished from hunger,
and many fell over the precipices, lodging among the rocks, where,
after long and painful struggles, they died. It seemed, truly, like
going through the Valley of Death, so numerous were the carcasses and
bones of cattle in this part of the valley.

Condors were occasionally seen upon the cliffs, sometimes circling
high in the heavens. I had often observed these birds with interest
when they came in numbers from the Andes, to feed upon carrion around
Causete.

The condor is, I believe, the largest of the carrion-feeders; it has
a fleshy crest upon the head, with wattle-like appendages beneath the
beak; the nostrils extend through the cere, the head and neck are bare
of feathers, and the skin of the neck lies in folds; around its base,
a little above the shoulders, is a frill of white, downy feathers
encircling it. Its flight is graceful, and at times very lofty. The
breeding-places of the condors are in hollows of the cliffs, hundreds
of feet from their bases; the eggs are laid upon the bare rock.

I have seen these birds in pairs; but in winter months they generally
congregate in greater numbers.

While in the air, the condor soars in graceful circles, moving its
wings but little: they feed upon carrion, but will kill weak and
wounded animals, somewhat resembling the caracara in this respect.

The range of the condor extends along the Andes, from the Straits of
Magellan to 8° north latitude. I have seen specimens kept as pets in
the gardens of native gentlemen.

At the Cueste de la Catedral a grand sight awaited us. From the brink
of the river there arose a precipice of dark-colored stone, that
frowned upon the narrow path which passed along its front. A stream of
water fell over the brink of the ledge, and wherever the water struck
the rough projections, it was converted into spray, which fell in
turn upon other points of the rock, giving to the scene a fairy-like
appearance.

Just at dusk we arrived at a point where the valley turned in a
new direction, and was particularly distinguished for the desolate
appearance of the surrounding rocks, which is, however, somewhat
relieved by a bridge of English model, built by the Mendoza government.
Across this we hurried, and stood upon La Punta de las Vacas, or Cow
Point, where a desolate stone hut had been occupied years before
by cow-herds, smugglers, and now sometimes served to shelter the
benighted traveller. On the opposite bank of the torrent stood the
first _casucha_, or post hut, built of bricks and plaster. It was
very small, and was modelled upon a cheap plan, being without doors,
sashes, windows,--a large square hole answering for the first and last
conveniences.

During the Spanish reign, those snow huts were liberally supplied
with provisions, wines, wood, and bedding; but republican rulers are
satisfied to let the four men who compose the mail party carry their
own blankets, fuel, and food upon their backs--a miserable rule, that
causes much suffering among the post-men, who are often shut up for
many days at a time in a cheerless hut, while the snow storms are
raging around them.

A league beyond the _casucha_, the guides led the way into a narrow
valley, where the animals were turned loose, to graze upon whatever
they might find. The don spread a raw hide upon the ground, upon which
we laid our blankets, and consigned ourselves to the embraces of the
drowsy god.

The long walk had thoroughly jaded me, and it needed no narcotic to
insure a sound sleep for the following seven hours.




                             CHAPTER XIX.

                    CROSSING THE ANDES--CONTINUED.


When the sun’s rays of the next morning had penetrated the valley,
we were more than a league from our camping-ground, and had passed
the second _casucha_, or snow hut, of the winter courier. This little
domicile was built after the model of its distant neighbor at La Punta
de las Vacas, and was two leagues farther up the valley. While we were
trudging along, the metallic-sounding whinny of llamas sounded from
the sierra, and, looking up, we counted no less than thirty of these
graceful creatures gazing curiously upon us. The herd consisted of
males, females, and young, the latter of the size of the common goat.
As travellers rarely cross the mountains at this season of the year,
the llamas instinctively inhabit the valley, where they are free from
danger, and find a better living than the rocky cliffs afford.

Again the valley was blocked up by a spur of the sierra, called the
Paramilla, the second one crossed since leaving the hamlet of El
Durazno. The sides were steep, and Don Fernando cautioned me against
walking, observing that riding kept the _puna_ (a peculiar effect
produced by inhaling rarefied air) at a distance. The summit of the
Paramilla was buried in a deep drift of snow, through which we forced
our animals at considerable risk; for their exertions to keep a footing
almost overtasked their strength. Sometimes falling into concealed
holes, they floundered in the great drift until our own services were
necessary to rescue them from injury. Finally, a passage was effected,
and we wound down the west side to the banks of the torrent in the
vicinity of the third snow hut. The color of the water had changed from
a muddy hue to dark red, and it seemed to rush along more impetuously
than at the entrance of the valley. The many little streams that fell
over the precipices along the road were colorless; therefore I judged
that either the bed of the torrent, or its source, gave to the water
its peculiar color; and it may be of interest to state in this place,
that, as far as I could learn, all the rivers that descend into the
Argentine Republic, on the east side of the Andes, are of a deep mud
color, holding in suspension alluvial mud; while upon the Chili, or
west side of the Andes, the waters are clear and colorless.

The coolness of the morning soon gave way to the heat of the sun, and
it grew warmer as its rays were, reflected upon the snowy sides of the
mountains. The sound of a human voice fell upon our ears strangely
in this desolate place, as a party of men came into view far up the
valley. We soon met, and many were the inquiries made by the members
of both parties. The Cordillera had actually been passed, but an hour
or two before, by the courier and several persons who had placed
themselves under his orders. The courier was a short, square-built man,
of very dark complexion; and from the fact of his having performed many
daring passages during the past years, we looked upon him with no
ordinary interest. He rode on a small mule, the mail bag being slung to
his neck by a leather strap, and I did not exceed in size a school-boy’s
satchel. He informed us that the snow was thawing upon the summit of
the main ridge, and would not be passable until the cold night air had
crusted it over, when we might pass in comparative safety. But Don
Fernando was not to be stopped even by the opinion of so experienced a
personage as the courier, but ordered us to hurry on with all possible
speed.

Soon the main range of the Andes rose before us, blocking up the valley
more effectually than either of the previous Paramillas, its rounded
top glistening from the reflected light of the sun. The don ordered
a halt beside the river, in order to prepare for future action. The
animals were allowed to drink a little water, while the don gave us all
a dose of starch water and sugar, which we drank. This was a remedy for
the _puna_, or at least to cause our stomachs to give off any gases
therein contained, to cool the blood and invigorate the system. Don
Fernando then bound his face in cotton handkerchiefs, and the guides
and myself followed his example. This was to protect our faces from the
reflected rays of the sun upon the white, shining drifts that covered
the summits of the Cordillera and the neighboring sierras.

The river branched off to the northward, and was lost to view among
the mountains. At the base of the Cordillera was the last snow hut of
the Argentine Republic: passing it and the river, we commenced our
weary ascent. Water had been flowing from the summit for several days
previous to our arrival, and there was no appearance of the old path
which had been washed away. As the side of this part of the range was
composed of gravel and loose stones, it was difficult to obtain a firm
footing, and the animals were continually slipping, which obliged us to
exercise no little care and labor. The guides dismounted, but the don
declared that he had no wish to court the _puna_ by exerting himself
unnecessarily; therefore he managed to keep upon his mule; but more
than once the inclination of the animal’s back was such that the rider
was only saved by a slide off by the attentions of one of the guides. A
direct ascent could not be attempted; our only method was to wind back
and forth from side to side, on the face of the Cordillera, thus making
the ascent very gradual.

When we were about two thirds of the way up, our anticipated trouble
commenced. The baggage mule lost her footing, and rolled over and
over down the side of the mountain. Don Fernando shrieked out a hasty
_caramba_, the guides a naughty _c--o_, while I stood aghast. But our
fears were soon quieted; for the animal struck upon a projecting piece
of rock, which stayed her course, without apparently injuring her.

Being the smallest of the party, I was intrusted with the lasso, with
which I crawled down to the mule, and fastened it about her neck, when
she was pulled upon her feet by the party above. Having been relieved
of her cargo, the animal readily commenced ascending, as if nothing had
troubled her, and soon she was in the path again with her load upon her
back.

After many fallings and backslidings, our party stood upon the Cumbre,
or summit of the Cordillera, at an elevation of twelve thousand feet
above the level of the sea. When viewed from the valley below, I was
disappointed as to its seeming altitude; but when standing upon the
Cumbre, I fully realized the great height upon which our party had
halted. The view was confined by the irregular peaks of the surrounding
sierras; but a fine scene lay below us on the Chili side, of a peculiar
Alpine character. We stood upon the dividing line of the Argentine
Republic and Chili, and I inwardly bade farewell to the country that
had been my first teacher of travellers’ hardships, and had for much
suffering given me lessons of usefulness--had impressed upon my heart a
truer patriotism, and a more dignified respect for our republic of the
north.

As we gazed into the depth below us, a wild scene met our view. The
deep valley was filled with snow to a depth of nearly one hundred feet;
for as the snow tempests blow along the range of mountains, the fleecy
material drifts into the narrow defiles, filling them completely, in
some places, to the very tops. This is the case, particularly, farther
to the south, where a winter passage is rarely, if ever, attempted.
Upon the left side of the descent the first Chilian _casucha_ rose out
of the snow, differing somewhat in model from those upon the Argentine
side, the roof being rounded or oven-shaped, while those on the east
side are two inclined planes, like the roof of a New England cottage in
the earlier times.

Until now the powerful reflected light had not affected my vision;
but I at last began to feel it seriously. I had neglected to bring
“goggles,” and though a thick cotton handkerchief covered my head, my
skin was parched, and tears continually rolled down my face, adding to
my torture, from which there was no escape. “Thank Providence that the
day is so very clear,” ejaculated the don; “for if a _temporal_ should
pass over, where would we be by nightfall? Either blocked up in that
cold snow hut yonder, or buried in the valley below.”

The snow had commenced thawing, and the real difficulties of crossing
now commenced. The mules floundered in the drifts, often requiring our
combined exertions to keep them on a sure footing. Near the _casucha_
we came upon hard snow; but the original path lay many feet below,
buried in the drift. While the party were pausing to consider the
proper course to pursue, I noticed that one of the mules had been
caught by Don Fernando, who waded towards the firm snow, leading
the little animal by means of a lasso, which had been thrown about
her neck. She was the smallest of the animals, and was called the
_baqueana_, or guide mule, from the fact that she could follow the
hidden path with great accuracy.

Curious to see her operations, I watched her closely as she walked
carefully over the drift, with her nose almost touching the snow; and
she really seemed to be guided by the sense of smell. The other animals
followed, driven by the guides, while the don and myself harnessed
ourselves with the lassos, and drew after us the hide upon which had
been laid the baggage, saddles, &c.

Beyond the snow hut of the Cumbre, the descent was abrupt, and the line
of the narrow path having been lost, we slid down the drifts in a most
exhilarating manner. The mules came after, requiring to be well whipped
by one of the guides before they would move an inch. Though the guide
mule lost the narrow path, after following for some distance correctly,
she became valuable to us on this part of the trail. We came to another
descent, down which the other mules could not be driven; but when the
little _baqueana_ sat upon the snow, and gracefully descended without
injury, the laggards followed, as one sheep follows another; all but
one descended safely; she stuck fast in the drift, and it required our
whole number to ascend and rescue her. We found her suffering from
the _puna_, and in dubious spirits. Her exertions to free herself in
a place where the atmosphere was so rare had almost ruined the poor
beast. Blood trickled from her nose, and her breast was swollen like a
bladder distended with wind.

At four o’clock Don Fernando ordered a halt upon a pile of loose rocks
that protruded from the snow. Here we remained patiently waiting for
the snow to crust over, as it had become too soft to allow of safe
travelling. Twilight fell upon us in this wild retreat, and found the
guides and the don rolled up in their _ponchos_, suffering from the
stinging cold. As for myself, I jumped about upon our little territory
until the increased circulation of the blood kept me in a warm glow.
The guides fortified themselves against the cold air by drinking
_aguardiente_; but experience had proved to me that the cold snow water
in my flask would give me a firmer step, an easier respiration, and a
clearer head than any brandy or _aguardiente_ of the San Juaninos.

The moon shone as beautiful as we could have wished, lighting up the
valley and its towering walls in a sublime manner. The little cascades
of melting snow no longer fell over the cliffs, but froze, coating the
dark fronts of the precipices with a shield of sparkling ice, and the
sharp “ticking” of the frost sounded strangely, seeming to add to the
weirdness of the place.

After remaining for three hours, the guides pronounced the snow
sufficiently crusted over to bear us; and, pointing to a sharp angle
of the valley, the oldest one desired me to lead my horse in that
direction, while the rest of the party attended to the animals.

The River Aconcagua roared along the mountain’s sides, and in most
places was hidden by the frozen snow. Our course lay along its borders,
where many gullies crossed our trail, hidden beneath the frozen crust.

While feeling our way along, old Yellow-skin, my horse, fell through
the crust into a torrent that flowed into the river, leaving me
standing upon the broken edges of the hole. The guides pulled me from
the chasm, and beat the old horse until he became excited to such a
degree as to crawl out of his bath with a vigor that satisfied us he
would live to reach the open country.

We next crossed a high spur of the mountains, and, descending a
precipitous path, came upon the second snow hut of the Chilian
government; and after following many windings, and experiencing much
danger in crossing the river, the dry, brown earth was reached, and we
looked up to the lofty mountains, that shone in the moonlight, with
great satisfaction, for our labors were ended. The guides gathered
a few sticks together, and succeeded in lighting a fire, by the heat
of which a scrap of jerked beef was cooked; but before this had been
accomplished, the don and myself, overtasked by the fatigues of our
long journey, had rolled ourselves up in the hide, and were sleeping
too soundly to be awakened by the peons, who undoubtedly were pleased
at the result, for they had all the beef to themselves. When the reader
reflects that the preceding stage of the journey had been very long and
arduous, we having travelled, with the exception of three hours, from
four o’clock of the morning of one day until two o’clock of the next
morning, he will acknowledge that our rest was well earned.




                              CHAPTER XX.

                    FROM THE ANDES TO THE PACIFIC.


At daylight we breakfasted on dried beef and _maté_ tea, and soon
started on our journey, which was now rapidly drawing to a close. The
sun was high in the heavens, although we could not for a long time see
his face, for the mountains shut us in completely. We continued down
the valley, passing near some fine springs of water, which, from the
peculiar manner in which they burst forth from the ground, are called
“_Los ojos de Agua_,” or Eyes of Water.

The first signs of civilization that we reached on the Chili territory
was at a place called “_El Guarde Viejo_,” the old custom-house of the
Chilian government.

This was occupied by a farmer, a new government building having been
erected farther down, at the mouth of the valley. Beyond the _Guarde_,
at intervals, little huts were seen, the inhabitants of which were
garrulous and hospitable.

As we emerged from the valley, and encountered troops of mules and
parties of country people, I observed the peculiar characteristics
which distinguish the Chilians from the people of the country behind
us. The muleteers on the eastern side of the Andes were grave in
deportment, and slow in speech and movement.

The Chilians were more energetic and intelligent,--perhaps from more
extended intercourse with foreigners. Yet they have the discredit of
being less honest than their brethren of the pampa provinces. The
men of Chili wore a short poncho, mainly covering the wearer’s hips.
The Argentinos’ poncho is of the longest kind--longer than those of
the people of any other South American republic. The Chilian’s lasso
_hangs_ in coils from the saddle behind the rider; the gaucho’s is
carefully coiled up, and rests on the horse’s croup.

The farms now became more frequent as we travelled along; the buildings
were neatly roofed with red tiles, and furnished a striking contrast,
to those of Mendoza and San Juan, which were generally of canes and mud.

As night came on, we reached an irrigating canal, which conveyed water
to the town of San Rosa; thrifty little farms were fed by its waters
all along the road, and neatness and good order and management were
everywhere discernible. The little houses were shaded by groves of fig
and orange trees, and the reader can imagine our thoughts and happiness
to be travelling through a country bright with blossoming fruit trees,
when but a few hours before we had slept near snow-drifts.

Groups of young people were often seen seated beneath the trees, or
under the verandas, singing, or playing on the guitar. Before one of
the farm-houses we drew up, and, after being welcomed by one of these
happy groups, we led our animals from the road, and prepared to remain
for the night. An abundant supper was furnished us, and I do not
remember a pleasanter night’s rest that I ever had, than that.

The next morning I went out to the pasture to bid my old horse _adios_.
I found him cropping the rich _alfalfa_ on the irrigated field; and as
I approached him he seemed rather disinclined to any familiarity, for
he had associated me with all the hardships of the journey; and now to
leave a land of plenty with me was evidently not to his taste. I lost
no time in assuring him that my intentions were pacific, and when I
left him he gave a pleasant whisk of his tail and shake of the ears,
apparently thanking me for leaving him so literally “in clover.”

My pedestrian journey was ended. I would have liked to continue on foot
to the sea, which I could easily have reached in a couple of days; but
my kind friend Don Fernando would not permit me to leave his troop. I
must keep him company.

“You must come with me, my son,” he said. “I wish to introduce you to
some very nice people. I am a Chilian by birth, and I desire that you
shall form a good opinion of my countrymen.”

A mule, richly caparisoned, was furnished me by the don, and, mounting
our animals, we soon rode into the town of Santa Rosa. Drawing up his
mule before the entrance of a large mansion, before which paced a
soldier with musket in hand, Don Fernando inquired if Don José Ynfante,
the governor of the department of Santa Rosa, was at home.

The soldier replied that that gentleman was at Santiago on official
business, but that his son Don Manuel was at home. While a servant went
to announce our arrival, I had time to note that the national flag of
Chili floated above the stately mansion, while a peep within the yard
revealed beds of beautiful flowers and well-kept walks.

In a moment Don Manuel appeared, and, cordially embracing his uncle,
exclaimed, “Welcome to Chili, and to Santa Rosa!” The don introduced
me to the other gentleman, who greeted me warmly, uttering at the
same time many expressions of good feeling for me and my countrymen.
We then entered the house, and passed a most pleasant day in social
intercourse, to which the agreeable and cultivated manners of the young
don added no little charm. Don Manuel, as if to bring our recent hard
fare more strongly to our imaginations, feasted us upon strawberries
and sherbet; and the reader can form some faint idea how acceptable
they were to us. The ice for the sherbet had been brought down from the
Cordillera on the backs of mules.

On the following day we mounted our animals, and, bidding _adios_
to Don Manuel, resumed our journey for the coast. Leaving Santa
Rosa, we passed over an interesting country, and in the afternoon
crossed a fine bridge of foreign construction, and entered the town
of San Felipé,--which has a population of about twelve thousand
inhabitants,--where we passed the night.

The River Aconcagua irrigates the gardens and farms in this district,
and the soil is very fertile, yielding abundant crops of grain,
potatoes, melons, maize, beans, walnuts, figs, peaches, tobacco, and
grapes. The town is about eighty miles from Valparaiso.

Resuming our route on the next morning, and travelling all day, we
entered, at dusk, the town of Quillota, which contains about ten
thousand souls, and is about thirty-five miles from Valparaiso.

Here we found some large and well-cultivated farms, and the whole
country was quite interesting.

On the following morning Don Fernando started in advance of our party,
to prepare for our arrival at Valparaiso, this being the last day of
the journey.

I remained with the people of the troop, and kept them company during
the whole day. No incident occurred worthy of record here; and before
the twilight had begun to fall upon the heavens, we were descending
the high _cuestas_ that overlook Valparaiso, which city lay stretched
out below us on the shore of the great Pacific, its white plastered
dwellings glistening like silver in the rays of the declining sun.

Winding down the stony path, we entered the city before dark, and were
soon ensconced in comfortable quarters.

On the following day I presented my letters of introduction to the
United States consul, George Merwin, Esq., who, after giving me a kind
reception, and warm congratulations on the success of my long journey,
interested himself so much in procuring me a berth in an American
vessel, that before twenty-four hours had passed I was comfortably
settled on board the fine ship Magellan, Captain Charles King, and I
once more entered upon the routine of life before the mast. A few weeks
later, and we were scudding down the western coast of Patagonia, and
“going around the Horn” on our journey home.

       *       *       *       *       *

Reader, my story is told. If you have been enabled in these pages to
glean a little instruction or amusement for your leisure hours, I
shall feel well rewarded; and if, when in imagination you followed me
in my weary journey, you, perhaps, felt some little sympathy for the
hardships I sometimes experienced, I shall never regret my pedestrian
trip across the “PAMPAS AND THE ANDES.”




                          Transcriber’s Notes

Errors and omissions in punctuation have been fixed.

Page 47: “by order of his goverment” changed to “by order of his
government”

Page 124: “the _Santigueños_” changed to “the _Santiagueños_”

Page 234: “a leather rope, the _biador_,” changed to “a leather rope,
the _fiador_,”