Chapter XV: Front Matter (15)

circus. The Indians did not see him, and he crept quickly below and stowed himself in a large coil of rope in the forward part of the hold. The space in the centre of the coil was large enough to contain his body in a stooping position, and making the hatchway as fast as he could, he piled bags of beans around the sides and on the top of the rope, so as to entirely conceal it. For two days he hid himself here, feeding upon dry uncooked beans and a box of sea-biscuits, which he fortunately found in the hold; but he was entirely without water. The third day, fearing that he would die of thirst, he crept out and drew a bucket of water from a cask on the second deck, which he carried back to his place of concealment. On this excursion he neither heard nor saw signs of the Indians, and after two days more had passed, screwed his courage up to the point of making an exploration. Arranging everything so that he could make a hasty retreat if necessary, and using bean-bags to make a rifle-pit from which he could defend himself if pursued, he crept quietly into the saloon of the vessel, where he found that the Indians had been indulging in “a high old time.” Glasses and crockery were smashed, mattresses were dragged from the cabin, and everything that was movable lay scattered helter-skelter over the dining-tables and floor. It was evident that a search had been made for him, as doors which were locked had been broken open, although no attempt had been made to remove the coverings from the hatchways which led into the hold. Only one deck presented signs of a search, and above all was perfectly quiet. Going up-stairs, Taylor found human bones, picked clean, scattered around the galley. He did not touch them, because to look at them gave him the “shivers,” he said, but he saw enough to convince him that not only had the body of his companion been eaten, but also that of the savage who had been killed in the fray. It was evident that the savages had enjoyed a long and lively picnic, for there were several places on the deck where fires had been built. It was a wonder to him that the vessel had not been burned to the water’s edge. While hunting around for food, he found the head of his companion with the neck chopped off close to the jaws, the eyes punched out, and the fleshy part of the cheeks cut off. The sight of this was so horrible that he abandoned further exploration, and returned to his place of confinement so faint and bewildered that he could scarcely find his way. That night he crept out again, and finding some canned meat and fruit, lowered himself overboard and swam ashore, concluding that the Indians would return to the vessel, and that he would be safer in the rocks and bushes. Here he concealed himself for several days, awaiting the vessel that was to arrive from Valparaiso on the 21st of the month. The 25th passed without any sign of relief, and on the morning of the 26th he started on foot for Punta Arenas, where he arrived two days after. Here he told his story, and instead of being welcomed with hospitality, was arrested and thrown into jail, charged with the murder of his companion. A boat was sent down to the wreck, and such evidence was found there as to convince every one of the truth of his statement; whereupon he was released, and is now at Punta Arenas, in the employment of the Steamship Company, on an old hulk which lies in the harbor and is used for the storage of coal.

I have not told the story in as graphic a manner as it was related to me by William Taylor that night under the antarctic stars, but have given only the facts of his narrative, without embellishment of sailors’ slang and oaths. He lives in the hope of “steering within hailing distance of some of the savages, when he proposes to give them something worse than a rope’s-end.”

It is believed there is much gold in Terra del Fuego, as nuggets have been discovered by the missionaries in the streams. The Argentine Government proposes to make an exploration soon, and sanguine people think the time is not far distant when the islands of the archipelago will be filled with successful prospectors. Seals and other fur-bearing animals are plenty, but many skins are not sent to market for the reason that supplies can be obtained cheaper elsewhere.

There used to be a State called Patagonia, and one can still find it referred to in old geographies, but by the combined efforts of Chili and the Argentine Republic it has been wiped off the modern maps of the world. The United States ministers at the capitals of the two republics named assisted in dissecting the territory, and were presented with beautiful and costly testimonials as tokens of the artistic manner in which it was done. It was agreed that the boundary-line of Chili should be extended down the coast and then run eastward, just north of the Strait of Magellan, so that the Argentines should have the pampas, or prairies, and Chili the strait and the islands. The map of Chili now looks like the leg of a tall man, long and lean, with a very high instep and several conspicuous bunions.

It was a diplomatic stroke on the part of Chili to get control of the Strait of Magellan, that great international highway through which all steamers must go; and the archipelago along the western coast, comprising thousands of islands which have never been explored, and which are believed to be rich in what the world holds valuable, also fell to her share; but the Argentines got the best of the bargain in broad plains, rich in agricultural resources, rising in regular terraces from the Atlantic seaboard to the summits of the Cordilleras, whose snowy crests stand like an army of silent sentinels, marking the line upon which the two republics divide--plains as broad and useful as those which stretch between the Mississippi River and the ranges of Colorado, and as good for cattle as they are for corn.

It was a rather unusual proceeding, this partition of the Patagonian estates. It is commonly the custom to divide property after the owner’s death; but in this instance the inheritance was first shared by the heirs, and then the owner was mercilessly slaughtered. They called it a grand triumph of the genius of civilization over the barbarians, and the success of the scheme certainly deserved such a designation; but in this case as in many others the impediment to civilization was swept away in a cataract of blood. General Roca, the recent President of the Argentine Republic, was the author and executor of the plan of civilizing Patagonia, and he did it as the early Spanish Conquistadors introduced Christianity into America, with the keen edge of a sword. His success won him military glory and political honors, and made him what he is to-day, the greatest of the Argentinians.

There were originally two great nations of Indians in what was known as Patagonia, but the Spaniards called them all Patagonians, because of the enormous footprints they found upon the sand. The early explorers reported them to be a race of giants. The first white man that interviewed these people was Magellan, the great navigator who discovered the strait which bears his name, and who was the first to enter the Pacific Ocean. He had with him a romancer by the name of Pigafetta, who gave the world a great amount of interesting information without regard to accuracy. All the navigators who followed Magellan felt in duty bound to see and describe as amazing things as their predecessor had witnessed, and even went much further in their endeavors to keep up the European interest in the New World. Hence, in the sixteenth century, fables which are still repeated, but have no more foundation than the tales of the warrior woman who gave a name to the greatest stream on earth, found their way into history.

This man Pigafetta, for example, says that the Patagonia Indians “were of that biggeness that our menne of meane stature could reach up to their waysts, and they had bigg voyces, so that their talk seemed lyke unto the roar of a beaste.” In order to secure credit for courage, the early navigators told astonishing yarns about the fierceness of these Indians, who still have a reputation for fighting which, no doubt, is well founded. Rum and disease have, however, made sad work among the race, which is in its decadence; and the ambition of the Patagonian now is only equal to that of the North American Indian--that is, to get enough to eat with the least possible labor. They hang around the ranches to pick up what is thrown to them in the way of food, stealing and begging, and occasionally they bring in skins to the settlements to exchange for fire-water.

Later explorers discovered that there were two distinct races among the aborigines: first, the canoe Indians of the coast; and, second, the hunters of the interior, who are expert horsemen, raise cattle, and resemble the Sioux of the United States or the Apaches of the Mexican border. The two nations spoke languages entirely different, and had no resemblance in their manner or habits of life. Those of the south, who extended over into the curious islands of Terra del Fuego, are uglier in appearance, fiercer in disposition, and are believed to be cannibals. In fact, there is a recent instance of man-eating in the Strait of Magellan which appears to be authentically reported. The canoe Indians are called _Tehueiche_, and the horsemen of the north--the plains or pampa Indians--are called _Chenna_. The latter appear to be closely allied to the Araucanians of Chili, a race which the Spaniards were never able to subdue, but with which they have intermarried extensively, and produced the present peon of Chili, who has all the vivacity and impulsiveness of the Spaniard united with the muscular development, the courage, and the endurance of the Indian. The frontier of the Argentine Republic, until a few years since, was constantly harassed by the Chennas--murder, arson, and pillage were the rule--and the development of the nation was seriously checked, until General Roca was sent out with an army to exterminate them.

The dividing line between the Argentine Republic and what was known as Patagonia was the river Negro, which flows along the forty-first parallel, about nine hundred miles north of the Strait of Magellan. The greater portion of this country is well-watered pampas, or prairies, that extend in plainly marked terraces, rising one after the other from the Atlantic to the Andes; but towards the south the land becomes more bleak and barren, the soil being a bed of shale, with thorny shrubs and tufts of coarse grass, upon which nothing but the ostrich can exist. The winters are very severe, fierce winds sweeping from the mountains to the sea, with nothing to obstruct their course. These winds are called _pamperos_, and are the dread of those who navigate the South Atlantic. During the winter months the Indians were in the habit of driving their cattle northward into the foot-hills of the Andes for protection; and, leaving them there, they made raids upon the settlements on the Argentine frontier, killing, burning, and stealing cattle and horses. Terror-stricken, the ranchmen fled to the cities for protection; so that year by year the frontier line receded towards Buenos Ayres, instead of extending farther upon the plains.

President Roca was then a general of cavalry, and had won renown in the war against Lopez, the tyrant of Paraguay. He was sent with two or three regiments to discipline the Indians, and he did it in a way that was as effective as it was novel. While the Indians were in the mountains with their cattle he set his soldiers at work, several thousands of them, and dug a great ditch, twelve feet wide and fifteen feet deep, from the mountains to the Rio Negro, scattering the earth from the excavation over the ground with such care as to leave nothing to excite the savages’ suspicions. Then, when the ditch was completed, he flanked the Indians with his cavalry and drove them southward on the run. Being ignorant of the trap set for them, the savages galloped carelessly along until thousands of them were piled into the ditch, one on top of the other--a maimed, struggling, screaming mass of men, women, children, and horses. Many were killed by the fall, others were crushed by those who fell upon them, while those who crawled out were despatched by the sabres of the cavalrymen.

Those who were not driven into the ditch fled to the eastward hunting for a crossing, which the soldiers allowed them no time to make, even if they had had the tools. Shovels and picks and spades were unknown among the Patagonians, and as they are the wards of no nation, muskets and ammunition had never been furnished them to do their fighting with. It was very much such a chase as Chief Joseph of the Nez Perces gave General Howard in the North-west a few years ago, and finally ended in General Roca’s driving the Indians into a corner, with the impassable Rio Negro behind them, where the slaughter was continued until most of the warriors fell. The remainder were made prisoners and distributed around among the several regiments of the Argentine army, in which they have proven excellent soldiers. The women and children were sent to the Argentine cities, where they have since been held in a state of semi-slavery by families of officials and men of influence. The dead were never counted, but were buried in the ditch which encompassed their destruction.

Northern Patagonia was thus cleared of savages, and civilization stretched out its arms to embrace the pampas, which are now being rapidly populated with ranchmen. The grass is very similar to that of our own great plains, but water is more plentiful and regular than in the South-west Territories of the United States. Towards the Andes there is some timber, and the foot-hills are well wooded. Grazing land in this country is sold at a nominal price by the Argentine Government, or is leased to tenants for a term of eight years, in lots of six thousand acres, at a rental of one hundred dollars per year. Locations nearer the cities, of course, cost more money, and are hard to get, as they are already occupied by people who secured titles to the land years ago by “concessions” from Congress or other means.

Not long ago the United States Consul at Buenos Ayres received a letter from a New York capitalist, in which the latter proposed that they should pool their issues and secure a “concession” from the Argentine Government to gather up the wild cattle on the pampas. The capitalist, who had been overhauling his geography, discovered that “immense herds of wild horses and cattle are roaming ownerless upon the pampas of the Argentine Republic and Patagonia,” and thought it would be a good scheme to take a lot of Texas cow-boys down and corral them, if the permission of the Government could be obtained. He proposed that the consul should obtain such permission, while he would furnish the cow-boys and the necessary capital, and the two would become partners in the Patagonia cattle trade on an extensive scale.

The astonished consul did not answer the letter. It was a tempting scheme, but there were several obstacles in the way of its success, the first being that there were no wild cattle on the pampas, and never had been. The Indians had large herds, which were “absorbed” by prominent officials when General Roca concluded his scheme of extermination; but it would be quite as reasonable to make such a proposition to the Governor of Colorado. There are about thirty million cows, five million horses, and one hundred million sheep grazing on the pampas of the Argentine Republic and Patagonia, but they are all properly branded, and valued at something like four hundred millions of dollars. The annual number of beeves slaughtered reaches nearly four millions, and about ten million sheep are turned into mutton each year.

The Argentinians think that their country is to be the greatest of all the world in cattle and wool production, and the figures loom up very much like it, as the increase within the last twenty years has been about four hundred per cent. At present the Argentine Republic has more sheep than any other nation, but the value of the wool product is less by one-third than that of Australia, because the fleece is so much lighter. The clip per animal in Australia is worth about one dollar, while in the Argentine Republic it sells for about fifty cents.

The capital of Patagonia, if the territory of that name may be said to have a capital, as there is only one town within its limits, is Punta Arenas, or Sandy Point, located about one-third of the distance from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in the Strait of Magellan. It belongs to Chili, and was formerly a penal colony; but one look at it is enough to convince the most incredulous that whoever located it did not intend the convict’s life to be a happy one. It lies on a long spit which stretches out into the strait, and the English call it Sandy Point, but a better name would be Cape Desolation. Convicts are sent there no longer, but some of those who were sent thither when Chili kept the seeds and harvests of her revolutions still remain there. There used to be a military guard, but that was withdrawn during the war with Peru, and all the prisoners who would consent to enter the army got a ticket of leave. The Governor resides in what was once the barracks, and horses are kept in what was used as a stockade. Hunger, decay, and dreariness are inscribed upon everything--on the faces of the men as well as on the houses they live in--and the people look as discouraging as the mud.

They say it rains in Punta Arenas every day. That is a mistake--sometimes it snows. Another misrepresentation is the published announcement that ships passing the strait always touch there. Doubtless they desire to, and it is one of the delusions of the owners that they do; but as the wind never ceases except for a few hours at a time, and the bay on which the place is located is shallow, it is only about once a week or so that a boat can land, because of the violent surf. Our arrival happened to be opportune, for the water was smooth, and we landed without great difficulty, the only drawbacks being a pouring rain and mud that seemed bottomless.

The town is interesting, because it is the only settlement in Patagonia, and of course the only one in the strait. It is about four thousand miles from the southernmost town on the west coast of South America to the first port on the eastern coast--a voyage which ordinarily requires fifteen days; and as Punta Arenas is in about the middle of the way, it possesses some attractions. Spread out in the mud are two hundred and fifty houses, more or less, which shelter from the ceaseless storms a community of eight hundred or one thousand people, representing all sorts and conditions of men, from the primeval Indian type to the pure Caucasian--convicts, traders, fugitives, wrecked seamen, deserters from all the navies in the world, Chinamen, negroes, Poles, Italians, Sandwich Islanders, wandering Jews, and human drift-wood of every tongue and clime cast up by the sea and absorbed in a community scarcely one of which would be willing to tell why he came there, or would stay if he could get away. It is said that in Punta Arenas an interpreter for every language known to the modern world can be found, but although the place belongs to Chili, English is most generally spoken. There are a few women in the settlement, some of them faithful mothers and wives, no doubt, but the most of them have defective antecedents, and are noted for a disregard of matrimonial obligations.

There are some decent people here--ship agents and traders who came for business reasons, a consul or two, and among others an Irish physician, Dr. Fenton, who is the host and oracle sought for by every stranger who arrives. Occasionally some yachting party stops here on a voyage around the world, or a man-of-war cruising from one ocean to the other, and steamers bound from Europe to the South Pacific ports, or returning thence, pass every day or two; so that communication is kept up with the rest of the universe, and the people who live at this antipodes, where the sun is seen in the north, and the Fourth of July comes in the depth of winter, are pretty well informed as to affairs at the other end of the globe. The latitude corresponds to about that of Greenland, and if you tip the globe over you will see that it is the southernmost town in the world, farther south than the Cape of Good Hope or any of the inhabited islands. The emotions that come with the contemplation of the fact that you are about as far away from anywhere as one can go are quite novel; but in the midst of them you are summoned to confront the fact that the world is not as large as it looks to be, for here is a man who used to live where you came from, and another who once worked in an office where you are employed. There is a news-stand where you can purchase London and New York papers, often three or four months old, but still fresh to the long voyager, and shops at which Paris confectionery and the luxuries of life can be had at Patagonia prices.

There is a curiosity-shop near the landing, which is kept by an old fellow who was once a sailor in the United States navy, and fought under Admiral Farragut at Mobile--at least he says he did, and he speaks like a truthful man. Here are to be purchased many interesting relics; and passengers who are fortunate enough to get ashore, go back to their ship loaded down with Indian trifles, shells and flying fish, tusks of sea-lions, serpent-skins, agates from Cape Horn, turtle-shells, and the curious tails of the armadillo, in which the Indians carry their war-paint. But the prettiest things to be bought at Punta Arenas are the ostrich rugs, which are made of the breasts of the young birds, and are as soft as down and as beautiful as plumage can be.

The plumes of the ostrich are plucked from the wings and tail while the bird is alive, but to make a rug the little ones are killed and skinned, and the soft fluffy breasts are sewed together until they reach the size of a blanket. Those of a brown color and those of the purest white are alternated, and the combination produces a very fine artistic effect. They are too dainty and beautiful to be spread upon the floor, but can be used as carriage robes, or to throw over the back of a couch or chair. Sometimes ladies use them as panels for the front of dress skirts, and thus they are more striking than any fabric a loom can produce. Opera cloaks have been made of them also, to the gratification of the æsthetic. They are too rare to be common, and too beautiful to ever tire the eye.

This town of Sandy Point is quite a market for other sorts of furs, which are brought in by the Indians of Patagonia from the mountains. Several large houses in Valparaiso and Buenos Ayres have agents there, and the shipments to Europe are quite large. The chief articles of export in this line are ostrich feathers and guanaco (pronounced _wanacko_) skins.

The fur-bearing animals of South America are numerous, and some of them are very fine. The mountains of the lower half of the continent abound with vicuñas, guanacos, alpacas, and chinchillas, while the archipelago of Chili and Terra del Fuego, with its thousands of islands, fairly swarm with seals. Very many furs are shipped to Europe, but the seals are seldom touched except by the native Indians, who use their flesh for food and their skins for garments. The supply of seals is practically inexhaustible. They are found in large numbers as far north as Guayaquil, on the west coast, and the passengers on the steamships passing up and down are entertained by their antics. The seals have helped the sea-birds to create the supply of guano upon the Peruvian coast, and this valuable fertilizing material is largely composed of decayed seal flesh and bones, as well as the remnants of the fishes they have dined upon for thousands of years.

The skins of the northern seals are worthless, but farther south, as the archipelago is reached, a colder climate exists, the fur is thicker, and the skins have value. If the reader will take the map of South America, and examine the configuration of the continent south of the fortieth parallel, he will see how numerous these islands are, and every one of them is swarming with seals. There have been some attempts at seal-fishing in Terra del Fuego, but the Indians are so fierce as to make it dangerous for small parties to visit the islands, and only a few skins are shipped from Punta Arenas.

The guanaco skins are considered very fine. These are the wearing apparel of the Indians, and with the ostrich rugs constitute the chief results of their chase. In Patagonia ostriches are not bred, as at the Cape of Good Hope, but run wild, and are getting exterminated rapidly. The Indians chase them on horseback, and catch them with _bolas_--two heavy balls attached to the ends of a rope. Galloping after the ostrich, they grasp one ball in the hand, and whirl the other around their heads like a lasso coil. When near enough to the bird, they let go, and the two balls, still revolving in the air if skilfully directed, will wind around the long legs of the ostrich, and send him turning somersaults upon the sand. The Indians then leap from the saddle, and if scarce of meat they will cut the throat of the bird and carry the carcass to camp. If they have no need of food, they will pull the long plumes from the tail and wings, and let him go again to gather fresh plumage for the coming season.

The bolas are handled very dexterously, and well trained Indians are said to be able to bring down an ostrich at a range of two or three hundred yards. But it is not often necessary to draw at that distance. Horses accustomed to the chase can overtake a bird on an unobstructed plain; but the

birds have the advantage of being “artful dodgers,” and as they carry so much less weight, can turn and reverse quite suddenly. The usual mode of hunting them is for a dozen or so Indians to surround a herd and charge upon it suddenly. In this way several are usually brought down before they can scatter, and those that get away are pursued. As they dodge from one hunter they usually run afoul of another, and before they are aware they are tripped by the entangling bolas. People who are passing through the strait often stop over and await another steamer at Punta Arenas to enjoy an ostrich chase. They can secure trained horses and guides at moderate rates. One who has never thrown the bolas will be amazed, the first time he tries it, to find how difficult it is to do a trick that looks so easy.

BUENOS AYRES.

CAPITAL OF THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC.

The Chillanos claim to be the Yankees of South America, and it is their proudest boast, but the Argentinians are more entitled to that distinction. Chili, commercially and in her political affinities, is to all intents and purposes an English colony. She reckons her transactions in pounds, shillings, and pence, and her statute-books bear the law of entail. There is no democracy outside her constitution, and a peon can never be anything else. The poor may not acquire land, but must be the retainers of the rich and the tenants of the great estates which are tied up forever from them. In the Argentine Republic, on the contrary, the pampas are divided like the prairies of our own great West. Any man may acquire an estancia by location upon the public lands and the payment of a nominal price per acre; so the country is settling up with those who have fled from the conditions that exist in Chili, free thought, free speech, free air, and free land being their inducement. The city of Buenos Ayres is the only one of the South American capitals in which modern ideas and manners of life prevail. The town is of mushroom growth, like Chicago. There were no old prejudices to uproot, no antiquated bigotry to tear down. It looks less like Spain than any of the other capitals, and more like a modern American community.

The first impressions of the traveller are unfavorable, and you wonder what possessed the Spaniards to locate this capital where it stands. But Buenos Ayres is like Topsy--it simply “growed.” The first man who came was Juan Diaz de Solis, in 1515. He discovered the Rio de la Plata, and was murdered by the Indians. Then came the famous Sebastian Cabot, who explored the country as far up the river as Paraguay ten years later, and was followed by Pedro de Mendoza in 1535, who obtained permission from the Spanish Government to equip an expedition to subdue the country, provided--as was always the rule in the Pickwick Club--he did the same at his own expense. Mendoza came with eleven hundred men, went ashore where he first saw land, established a camp as a basis of operations, and from the purity of the atmosphere called it Buenos Ayres, or “good air.” He had no intention of founding a city at this location; his purpose was to rest there a while and keep a base of supplies, until he had found a path to the mythical El Dorado, which was supposed to lie somewhere in the interior of South America.

The approach to Buenos Ayres, which stands about one hundred miles above the mouth of the Rio Plata--or “the river Plate,” as it is more commonly called by English writers--is perplexing to navigators, as the mouth of the river is beset with mud-banks and sand-bars--accumulations that come down from the interior of the continent upon the swift waters, and, like the shoals in the Mississippi, are constantly shifting. The voyage from the Strait of Magellan to the place is not a comfortable one, and the captain is always glum and anxious. When it is calm weather he is nervous, and keeps his eye on the barometer for fear of a gale; and when the gale comes, as it does about three or four days in a week, the jokes of the passengers do not appear to entertain him. These gales are called _pamperos_, and sweep across the pampas of Patagonia with the violence of a tornado. Many a brave ship has gone down a victim of their fierceness, and the sailors are as much afraid of them as of the tempests which haunt Cape Horn.

Our captain was unusually anxious, because we had a priest on board. Ever since the days of Jonah there has been a superstition among sailors that clergymen always bring bad luck, particularly a Catholic priest. In trying to discover why the forebodings over a priest should be greater than those over a Protestant parson, the conclusion is reached that it is because the priest wears the sign of his office in his apparel, and is thus more conspicuous. Many captains of sailing-vessels will not take clergymen as passengers under any circumstances, always protesting, of course, that they do not share the common superstition, but basing their objections upon the ground that it would demoralize the sailors. A missionary to one of the South American countries waited in New York for over three months to get passage by a sailing-vessel, and although several started in the mean time for the port he wanted to reach, he was finally obliged to go on a steamer by way of England. The steamer was lost in a storm off the coast of British Guiana. He and other of the passengers were saved in the life-boats, but the chief mate and several of the seamen were drowned. This superstition prevails among sailors of all races, but the Spaniards are the most sensitive to it, as they are to omens of all kinds. The Spanish seamen believe that if the decks are wet by the sea the first day out, they will have fine weather for the rest of the voyage, and for this reason they often leave their moorings in a storm when skippers of other countries would wait for fair weather. There is scarcely a tar in the Spanish service who cannot find some significance in every incident.

Through the Strait of Magellan and up the east coast of

South America vessels are followed by myriads of sea-birds--albatrosses, Mother Carey’s chickens, and a beautiful species of the gull variety not found elsewhere, known as the “cape pigeon.” Their plumage is beautiful, of the purest white, mixed with the most intense black, and nature has clothed them so warmly for the severe climate in which they live that their skin is as thick as fur, and is used for the manufacture of robes and rugs. More than a hundred breasts of these birds are needed for an ordinary sized robe, however, so that they are a luxury few can afford. I saw in Montevideo a mass of tiny feathers, black and white, as fine and soft as eider-down, that was lined with scarlet silk, and cost two hundred and fifty dollars. Nothing more beautiful could be imagined. Robes made of the breasts of ostriches are lovely enough, but one of cape-pigeons’ breasts is passing lovely.

The sailors catch them by throwing overboard a long piece of coarse twine and trailing it in the wake of the ship. As hundreds of the birds are constantly sailing along the surface of the water, they get tangled in the cord and are drawn in, but it requires as much dexterity to get them aboard as to land a lively trout. Sometimes brass or tin tags are tied to their necks, with names and dates scratched upon them, when they are released. The officers of our ship reported that upon a previous voyage they got a bird with one of these tags on, bearing inscriptions showing that it had been caught twice before. They gave the little stranger another indorsement and let him go. The albatrosses of the southern hemisphere are very large, sometimes measuring ten and twelve feet from wing to wing; but they are worthless, and are stupid, awkward birds, that often dash themselves against the side of a ship from pure stupidity.

There is no port of importance between Punta Arenas, in the Strait, and the river Plate except Bahia Blanca (White Bay), near where the United States astronomical expedition made its observations at the last transit of Venus. The entire coast for fifteen hundred miles is barren of civilization, except the cabin of some hardy frontiersman, who has set up a ranch and is waiting for the country to grow down to him.

Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, lies a few miles below Buenos Ayres, on the other side of the river, and vessels usually touch there, for it is a place of great commercial importance, more accessible to shipping and more favorably located in every respect than the latter city, which lies stretched along a low sandy bank seven or eight miles beyond the anchorage of ships. There is no harbor at Buenos Ayres--not even an excuse for one--and it is beyond the power of human genius to give vessels direct access to the city. The water is so shallow that they anchor seven, eight, and ten miles out, and are loaded and unloaded by means of flat-bottomed lighters, which are towed back and forth. Two or three times a week during the winter, when a pampero is blowing, the water is carried out to sea by force of the wind, and these lighters are left high and dry upon a beach over which they were floating a few hours before. Then they have to be unloaded by means of carts on wheels eight to ten feet in diameter, which are driven into the water until nothing can be seen of the mules that draw them but their indignant noses and nodding ears. It is amusing to see the heads of these mules sticking out of the water at an elevation which must be very uncomfortable, but one they are used to. Passengers who arrive on these occasions are transferred from the ship to a lighter, then to a mule-cart, and sometimes are carried ashore on the back of a stormy Italian, who never fails to swear by all the saints and the Virgin that the man on his back is the heaviest he has ever carried, and demands more than the regular fee for extra baggage, so to speak. Lacking confidence in the sincerity of the cargador, the passenger will promise him heaven and earth and the sea if he will not drop him into the water, and then fights it out when he gets safely ashore.

Notwithstanding the commercial disadvantages of Buenos Ayres, it is the most enterprising, prosperous, and wealthy city in South America--a regular Chicago--the only place on the whole continent where people seem to be in a hurry, and where everybody you meet appears to be trying to overtake the man ahead of him. It is all bustle and life night and day, and is so different from the rest of South America that the traveller is more impressed than he would be if he came direct from the United States. Elsewhere people always put off till to-morrow what they are absolutely not compelled to do to-day. In the other countries mañana (manyana) is king, and mañana means to-morrow, but in Buenos Ayres the idea seems to be that the liveliest turkey gets the most grasshoppers, and everybody is trying to get as many as he can. Merchants do not shut up shop to go to dinner, as is the rule elsewhere in Spanish-America, and morning newspapers are not printed on the afternoon of the previous day. To do as much as possible this week, and a good deal more, is the motto, and that accounts for the progress of the republic.

And it is a republic, not only in name but in fact. There is no bossism there, as in other Spanish-American countries. Every man is a sovereign, and he will not permit the soldiers to count the votes. There is always a good deal of a rumpus during election times, and the defeated party often raises a revolution, but since the tyrant Rosas was overthrown, no man has attempted to bully or oppress the Argentine people.

Our knowledge of the Argentine Republic amounts to little more than we know of the Congo State, and the man who goes there from the United States is kept in a state of astonishment until he leaves. Then, as he sits on shipboard and reflects over what he has seen, he cannot find an exclamation point big enough to do justice to his description of the country. The Argentinians think it is wicked indifference on our part to know so little about them, for the surprise of the few American visitors wounds their self-esteem. They are a proud people, like all the rest of the Spanish race, and, unlike some nations, have many things to be proud of. They know all about us. There are many men in the Argentine Republic who can tell you the percentage of increase in population, industry, and progress in the United States, as shown by the latest statistics, but how many people in the United States are aware that that country is growing twice as fast as ours? How many members of the Senate or the House of Representatives at Washington, how many members of the Cabinet or Justices of the Supreme Court, know that the increase of population in the Argentine Republic during the last twenty-five years has been one hundred and fifty-four per cent., while in the United States it has been only seventy-nine per cent., and that Buenos Ayres is growing as fast as Denver or Minneapolis?

The people are right when they assert that their country is the United States of South America, and there is nothing else that they are so proud of. They study and imitate our institutions and our methods, and in some cases improve upon them. You can buy the New York dailies and illustrated papers at any of the news-stands in Buenos Ayres, although they are six weeks old, and the people purchase and read them. They understand the significance of the cartoons in _Puck_, and read _Harper’s Magazine_ and the _Century_. Blaine’s book and Grant’s Memoirs are on sale, and the issues of our Presidential campaigns are as well understood as their own local squabbles.

The greatest benefit to be derived by a traveller in the countries of South America is to make him think well of his own; but, nevertheless, his vanity receives a severe shock when he comes to the Argentine Republic, and discovers how little he knows of what is going on in the world.

The succession of surprises that greet one on either hand keep him reminded of his own ignorance. It is perfectly natural, however, because we have no communication with the Argentine Republic, and have not had since the day when steam was substituted for canvas as a motive power on the sea. There was a time when we almost monopolized the commerce of that country, but during our civil war the ships were withdrawn, and the sailors went into the navy. Then when peace came all hands were called to the development of our own resources, and we were so busily engaged in building railroads, opening up farms, establishing ranches, working mines, and erecting new towns and cities in the great West, that we forgot that there was anybody to be looked after in South America. Twenty-five years ago our knowledge of the continent was pretty good, but we have learned nothing since. Our geographies read as they did then, our histories have not been rewritten, and our maps remain unaltered. But in the mean time mighty changes have been taking place among our neighbors that have escaped our attention. They have been growing as we have grown, and instead of a few half-civilized, ill-governed people upon the pampas of the Argentine Republic, a great nation has sprung up, as enterprising, progressive, and intelligent as ours, with “all the modern improvements,” as house agents say, and an ambition to stand beside the United States in the front rank of modern civilization. While we have been occupied with our own internal development, the European nations have gone in and taken the commerce to which we by the logic of political and geographical considerations are entitled.

Twenty-three lines of steamships connect the Argentine Republic with the markets of Europe, and from forty to sixty vessels are sailing back and forth each month. In the harbor of Buenos Ayres, or in what they call the harbor, are dozens of steamships and scores of sailing-vessels, showing every flag but that of the United States; for an American steamer never goes there, and only occasionally a bark or brigantine, chartered at New York or Philadelphia, with a cargo of lumber or railway supplies. Nearly all the goods these people buy of us are sent by way of Europe, as mails and passengers usually go, and very little is bought in the United States that can be purchased elsewhere. The reason for this is very plain--we have no transportation facilities, while those afforded for trade in Europe are as regular and convenient as exist between Liverpool and New York.

And this trade is worth having. The Argentine Republic imports nearly one hundred million dollars’ worth of manufactured merchandise every year, of which about one-third is from England, one-fifth from France, one-fifth from Germany, while the United States comes in at the tail-end of the list, along with Sweden, Denmark, and Chili. While England sent $35,375,628 worth there in 1885, we sent $7,000,000 worth, mostly lumber, railway locomotives and cars, and agricultural implements. While she sent $7,000,000 worth of cotton goods, we sent $600,000 worth; while she sent nearly $7,000,000 worth of hardware and other manufactures of iron and steel, we sent about $500,000 worth; and so on, down through the list of manufactured articles in which we, with equal transportation facilities, can compete with any nation on the globe. Our goods are more popular there, as everywhere in South America, so popular that the manufacturers at Manchester and Birmingham imitate our trade-marks, and send cargoes of merchandise which appears to have been produced in the United States, but never got nearer to Yankeeland than Liverpool.

There is not a country in all the world so deserving of attention as this, and particularly of our attention, for the time is drawing near when we must confront the results of its enterprise in the markets of the world. In its resources as well as in the character of its people it resembles the United States. Here are found pampas like our prairies, rich and fertile in the lowlands, and covered with fine ranges as they rise in mighty terraces from the Atlantic to the Andes; while in the foot-hills of the mountains are deposits of gold and silver similar to those of Colorado, whose wealth is yet untold. In the north is a soil that will produce cotton, rice, and sugar, like Louisiana and Texas; then come tobacco lands, like those of Virginia and Tennessee; then, as the temperature grows colder towards the south, are wheat and corn fields, as yet a tithe of them untilled, but suggesting Iowa, Nebraska, and Kansas. This vast area, as vast as that which lies between Indiana and the Rocky Mountains, is furnished with natural highways even more tempting to navigation than the Mississippi, the Ohio, and the Missouri rivers, and which find their sources in forests as extensive as those that shelter our great lakes.

Already the pampas produce wheat enough for domestic consumption and 9,000,000 bushels for export, and the production is increasing with the greatest rapidity. Nearly 100,000,000 sheep--more than are owned in any country of the world--are grazing on the ranges, and producing 200,000,000 pounds of wool for export; already beef and mutton are sent to England in refrigerator ships at prices cheaper than we can compete with, and few of our people know it.

A mistaken notion prevails everywhere among the American people about the social and political condition of the Argentine Republic, as well as about its commerce. There are banks at Buenos Ayres with capital greater than any in the United States, and occupying buildings finer than any banking-house in New York, palaces of marble and glass and iron. The Provincial Bank has a capital of $33,000,000, and $67,000,000 of deposits. It does more business than any one of our banks, and more than the Imperial Bank of Germany, being exceeded by but two banks in the world. The National Bank has a capital of $40,000,000, another has $8,000,000, another has $7,000,000, and several have $5,000,000. If we compare the banking capital and deposits of the Argentine Republic with those of the United States we find that they amount to $64 per capita of population there, and only $49 per capita with us. They have a Board of Trade and a Stock Exchange, where business is conducted upon the same plan as in New York or Chicago, and with as great an amount of excitement.

There are more daily papers in Buenos Ayres than in New York or London--twenty-three in all. Two of the dailies are published in the English language, one in French, one in German, and one in Italian; the rest are in Spanish. There are two illustrated weeklies, one of them comic, and three monthly literary magazines. The leading daily, _La Nacion_, is a great blanket-sheet larger than the New York _Evening Post_, and has a circulation of thirty thousand copies. The expression of opinion in the newspapers is as free as with us, and the editors are not under such restrictions as in other of the South American republics. There is a peculiar law of libel, and editors charged with this offence are tried by what is called a jury of honor, a sort of arbitrating committee, who decide upon the justice of the facts stated. Sometimes they compel the publisher to apologize, but more often console the complainant with advice “to grin and bear it.” The telephone and electric light are used extensively as in the United States, there being two telephone companies, and the manager of one told me that the number of instruments engaged is larger in proportion to population than any city in the world.

There are nine prominent theatres in Buenos Ayres, giving performances every night in the week, including Sunday, a permanent Italian opera, and a permanent French opera bouffe. One of the theatres is English, with all the plays given in that language, another is French, and a third is Italian; the rest are Spanish. There is a curious innovation in theatre and opera management in Buenos Ayres, which might be imitated by managers in the United States. The first gallery, or what we call the “dress circle,” is reserved exclusively for ladies, and no gentlemen are admitted. There is a separate box-office and entrance, and ladies who desire to attend but have no escorts are thus given an opportunity without being subjected to the annoyances suffered if they go in the usual way. They can ride to the private entrance in street-car or cab, and be as safe from the impertinence of loafers as if they had a dozen brothers or husbands around them. These galleries are almost always filled, which is the best evidence of their popularity and the success of the system.

Buenos Ayres has its parks, boulevards, and race-courses, like other modern cities; in fact, there is nothing in the line of civilized amusements that it is without. Everybody keeps a carriage and nearly everybody rides. Nowhere in the world are horses so cheap, and the stock as well as the equipages are very fine. A good pair of carriage-horses, the very best, can be had for one hundred and fifty dollars, and saddle-horses that are equal to any in the world can be purchased for thirty or forty dollars. The Argentine horseman invests his money in silver-mounted saddles and bridles, and a riding-gear with solid-silver stirrups, heavily mounted saddle, etc., is worth between four and five hundred dollars. All the swells have them, and the ladies who ride are similarly mounted, having a beautiful stirrup in the form of a slipper, often of solid silver. The parks and boulevards are crowded with haughty dons and ravishing señoritas during driving hours, and present a very brilliant and attractive scene.

The two Argentine Universities, under the patronage of the Government, are among the best in America, and rank with Yale or Harvard in curriculum and standard of education. They have large and able faculties, many of them Germans, with four branches, namely, law, medicine, engineering, and scientific, and the ordinary classical course. The library has about sixty thousand volumes, representing the literature of all languages, and the museum is quite extensive. The public-school system is also under the patronage of the Government, under a compulsory education law, and includes all grades from the kindergarten to the normal school. The distinguished ex-President of the Republic, Dr. Sarmiento, who was formerly Minister to the United States, is the especial patron of education, and it is his ambition to make the school system of the Argentine Republic the finest in the world. He studied the educational systems of all our States, and finally adopted that of Michigan for his own country.