The Pampas and Andes: A Thousand Miles' Walk Across South America

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.”

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.