CHAPTER II

FROM RIO DE JANEIRO TO MONTEVIDEO

MONTEVIDEO, November 13, 1897.

The _Belgica_ left Rio October 30, 1897. She steamed out of the harbour amid an uproar of salutations and accompanied by many of the friends of the expedition to the entrance of the bay. Here the little party of well-wishers gathered around Count Van den Steen and offered us a final _bon voyage_--a scene and a sentiment which followed us far into the polar night. The sun was hanging low over the blue outline of the Organ Mountains, and the darkness of the rapidly approaching tropical night was already on the lowlands, which are here exposed to receive the warm humidity of the Atlantic. The wind was steadily increasing from the east, bringing in a heavy sea and premonitions of an uncomfortable night. The two battered forts which guard the entrance were soon passed, and we laid our course south-westwardly along the Brazilian coast, with a fair wind and a favourable current. Darkness, torrid blackness, settled down over us with a rapidity which I had not before noted. The wind increased and the sea rose higher and higher, bringing with it Neptune to salute the too hilarious victims of the expedition at Rio.

[Illustration: Rio Harbour from Mt. Corcovado.]

[Illustration: Rio de Janeiro.]

The next morning no land was in sight, but the weather was delightfully clear with a fair breeze and an easy sea, a happy condition which followed us several days. We have now passed the tropic of Capricorn, are out of the torrid zone, and well on our path across the south temperate zone toward the bottom of the globe. The air is more stimulating, the winds fresh and bracing, more in accord with our polar longings, and altogether we begin to feel our natural vigours and ambitions which the burning heat farther north had withered.

From Madeira to Rio it had been found impossible to sleep in the bunks because of the stifling heat. Hammocks were accordingly swung amidships, in which some sleep was possible for the occupants of the cabins, while those of the forecastle stored themselves on the deck in almost any position offering a breeze and a protection from being washed overboard. These restful open air positions offer a splendid opportunity during the sleepless hours to study and admire the beauty and strangeness of the southern sky. From the time when we crossed the equator to our present position we have been intensely interested in the new constellations which have glided over the southern horizon, while in the north we have been watching, with some regret, the sinking and disappearance of the stars and groups with which we have been familiar from the time of our infancy. This vanishing of the Pole Star, and the many old friends in the heavens brings to us a vivid impression of the vast distance which we have traversed from our native lands. The new firmament has many charms, but it takes time to admire its complex splendour. The grouping of the large stars, the scattered nebulæ rivalling in lustre the Milky Way, and the unfilled spaces, remarkable for their extreme darkness, give the southern heavens a peculiar aspect. With this dome of tropical blue relieved by the new heavenly bodies above, and with a breakneck pitching and tossing at every plunge of the vessel, one is more apt to fall into an admiration of Nature than into a profound sleep. But this easy life on deck has also its drawbacks at times when one’s calm, dreamy philosophy is suddenly and rudely interrupted. Jack runs across the deck and presently stumbles in a heap over some sleeper when a series of grunts and something worse fills the night air with another spirit.

On November fourth, for a short time, the low shore-line of the Island of Santo Catherina was dimly visible under a blue mist in the west. At about this time we also saw the first Cape pigeons, stormy petrels, and albatrosses, and a few days later when there was no land in view an off-shore wind brought us some forms of land life. Among these were butterflies, moths, various birds with beautiful plumage, and some troublesome flies. We met only one voyager on this lonely course, a Brazilian coaster. She was built after a model of the last century, but, having every rag set which could draw, she came through the rolling blue waters with a grace and picturesqueness that would do justice to a modern yacht. We enjoyed the sight immensely as she came towards us, ploughing through hills of foam, her blunt prow buried in white spray, her huge square stern rising and falling nimbly out of one trough into another. It was as if one of the explorers who had gone before us, a Drake or an Anson, who were at once pirates and explorers, had suddenly dropped in our path to examine the men and the methods of less ambitious followers.

On the evening of the seventh we were fascinated by a strikingly beautiful sunset--the first worthy of note since the _Belgica_ left Antwerp and certainly the most remarkable which I had observed since leaving New York. The phenomena was most charming in colour when the sun was about to sink behind the blue outline of Uruguay on our western horizon. The sea was branded by streams and bands and spots of fire which, with the easy undulation of the surface, gave it the appearance of active flames. The sun itself was descending behind a faint purple zone of mist. Its disc seemed out of all proportion to its usual size and there was something sublimely beautiful in the loneliness of its descent. All the sky above it, and far to the south and north was a vivid crimson in zigzag streamers, while over our heads the dome was an exquisite tint of green, which melted in the east into a dark purple blue. Shortly after the heavenly glow of the sunset had vanished, the sky began to assume quite another aspect. A gloomy range of cumulus clouds rose in the north-west, and in a few hours had advanced so far as to project nearly over our heads. The scene was made particularly strange by the even steely colour of the rest of the sky. It was ruled with a line, here and there ragged, but for the most part singularly homogeneous from the confines of the north-eastern mass of horizon. All the central portion of this vast surface of cloud was of a deep leaden hue, while its edges were marked by rapidly changing lines of carbon and luminous grey. By a deception of the eye the entire mass appeared convex, and it looked as wild as any phenomena of Nature I ever saw. At frequent intervals a sharp shower of arrowy lightning whizzed along its lowest fringe, illuminating the decks and the sea with a weird blue light. The lightning had the remarkable peculiarity of not being accompanied by thunder, nor was it followed by rain.

Yesterday at noon the high ridge of mountains in the eastern part of the province of Rio Grande do Sul were feebly discernible under the western horizon. This is the most southern province, the most industrious, and certainly the most promising part of Brazil. It is composed almost entirely of Germans, upon whom the unfair yoke of the Rio Janeiro government fits badly. They are at present engaged in a revolution for freedom and independence. To-day we have the low sandy dunes of the coast of Uruguay on our port side, and through the night we made little progress against the increasing southerly wind which followed the peculiar sky effects. At 6 o’clock on the morning of the eighth, we were off Castillo Island. Here the wind increased with such fury that we began to look about for a harbour.

In a few hours we were off Cape Polonio, but a farther progress into the mouth of the River Plata against the wind was impossible. The bark was turned landward for a little cove at the neck of Cape Polonio which seemed somewhat sheltered by the off-lying seal rocks. To reach this anchorage, however, the bark made difficult work of it. She rose and tumbled over the ugly land swells like a waggon over a rocky road. Her feeble engines were pressed to their greatest force, which heated the spaces above the fireplace to such an extent as to ignite the woodwork, and thus to the anxiety of the storm was added the excitement of a fire.

The fire was soon extinguished, and at noon we dropped anchor in a little harbour where the main force of the wind did not reach us, but the sea continued to rise and fall with a sickening suddenness. Here we rode out the storm, which continued until about noon of the next day. The falling of the temperature, caused by the decreasing latitude and especially by this storm, is daily more noticeable. Already the cold south temperate winds have compelled us to abandon the restful open air berths in the hammocks and driven us into the stuffy state-rooms, where every precaution has been taken to prevent the escape of heat in the icy south. During the afternoon and night, while the ship was bowing to the wind and violently pulling at her chains, we examined the character of our surroundings. From our position the land presented about as barren and lifeless an aspect as any region I ever saw.

On closer inspection we became interested in the mere bleakness, and little by little we found a fascination in the lifeless sterility with which we were first impressed. The torrents of wind moved the sand-like snow, and even deposited it in huge drifts, giving the whole surface a wavy, undulating appearance. In the interior a few ranges of low hills were discernible; but their surfaces were such that the shape could not be easily separated from the vast wavy plain along the coast. Cape Castillo is easily distinguished from the other sandy points by a white round sand hill, one hundred and eighty-four feet high, to which the land gradually rises from the Cape southward. This is Mount Buena Vista, and its peculiar mammary form, with its well defined white nipple and rounded sides marked by dots of cactus plants,--these peculiarities, with the isolated position, give the eminence an impressiveness and a picturesqueness quite in accord with its important geographical position.

Mount Buena Vista marks the entrance from the north into one of the largest and, for the future, one of the most important rivers of the world, the Rio de la Plata. The river was discovered in 1515 by Juan Diaz de Solis, and seems to have been named by Sebastian Cabot in 1520. The name (meaning “river of silver”) was not given it because of its fancied resemblance to silver-plate, for in reality its surface is always ruffled, and its colour and consistency would be better described by the “river of mud;” but the great amount of actual silver ore which was taken from the Indians along this river, and the fact that it was used as a highway for the transport of the metal to the coast, are responsible for the poetic name of this ever dirty stream.

Though the waters are not sparkling, and the banks are not such as to call for an enthusiastic description, yet the Plata occupies a position unequaled among the rivers of the world. It drains the largest part of South America south of the Amazon basin, and with its many tributaries reaches from the mountains of eastern Brazil to the Andes, covering therefore almost the entire width of the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific. While its basin is thus widely spread, the name Rio de la Plata is limited to the stream from the junction of the rivers Parana and Uruguay, to the Atlantic. It is one hundred and fifty miles in length, and about one hundred and twenty miles wide at its outer spread. From here it rapidly narrows, so that at Montevideo it is but fifty miles wide, while at Buenos Aires it is only twenty, and at the junction of its principle head waters, but four miles. Its peculiar water is generally noticeable far out in the Atlantic by the change in colour: from the bright blue of the subtropical seas to a dull green, and on closer approach to a dark brown.

One of the most remarkable facts in the history of American discovery is the slowness with which the world has learned of the true natural resources of this region. The early Spaniards came here to obtain from the Indians, either by fair means or otherwise, such valuables as they possessed. Silver and gold were thus secured, and this led to the more important discoveries of the sources of these metals, which we now know are so widely spread over the continent. Little by little the Spaniards settled among the Indians; and then came a time when the English descended upon the Spaniards and relieved them of their treasures. One of the first of these British pirates was Sir Francis Drake, knighted and otherwise honoured by Queen Elizabeth for his heartless cruelty to, and valuable thefts from, the Spanish pioneers.

Drake’s narrator, while writing pious words with one hand and stealing Spanish silver with the other, had not much time to make sharp observations, but his notes are interesting. “Passing thus,” says the Reverend Mr. Fletcher, “in beholding the excellent works of the Eternal God upon the seas as if we had been in a garden of pleasure, April 5, 1578, we fell in with the coast of Brazil, in 30° 30′ towards the Pole Antarctic where the land is low near the sea, but much higher within the country, having in depth not above twelve fathoms three leagues off from the shore; and being deceived by the inhabitants (Indians), we saw great and huge fires made by them in sandy places. After this, we kept our course sometimes to the seaward, sometimes to the shore, but always southward as near as we could till April 14th, in the morning, at which we passed Cape St. Mary which lies in 35′ near the mouth of the River Plata running within it, about six or seven leagues along the main, we came to anchor in a bay under another Cape which our General afterwards called Cape Joy. (The present site of Montevideo.) The country here about is of a temperate and most sweet air, very fair and pleasant to behold, and, besides the exceeding fruitfulness of the soil, it is stored with plenty and mighty deer.” A few months later the good Reverend wrote thus: “We lighted on a Spaniard who lay asleep, and had lying by him thirteen bars of silver, weighing in all about 4,000 Spanish ducats. We freed him of his change which, otherwise, might have kept him working.”

Since this time the Spaniards have slowly spread and mingled and intermarried with the Indians, and the various resulting states have secured the independence of the Castilian yoke and are now very rapidly advancing. But for the first two centuries progress was very insignificant. Buenos Aires, the New York of South America, is here spreading on the banks of the silver river. Montevideo and other cities are growing with a vigour similar to that of Yankee towns, and if excellence of climate, fertility of soil, and limitless natural resources count for anything, the gathering basin of the Rio de la Plata will certainly soon become the United States of South America.

We went ashore on November 9th, and were met by a weather-worn group of men in various quaint costumes. Their faces and their apparel did not suggest the pleasureable moments and the warm reception which fell to our lot later. But we soon found hearts as warm and minds as appreciative as any that could be discovered under silks and broad-cloth. Cape Polonio is a port of anchorage, about two miles southward of Mt. Buena Vista. On it is a lighthouse of gray masonry, one hundred and thirtyseven feet in height, with three white horizontal bands. The actual height of this tower is not great, but being placed in a region where the sky is constantly loaded with clouds, and over a land with little irregularity of surface, the white peak seems constantly to pierce the dark skies. Scattered about on this neck of land are a few huts made of the remains of wreckage, galvanised iron, or grass, according to the luck and wealth of the various occupants. To the most palatial of these we were first escorted.

This was the home of the proprietor of the only industry of the place,--a sealing station. We had at first some difficulty in making ourselves understood. There was no one among us speaking Spanish, but after a brief effort we found that a little French was understood and that English was possible with an old seaman. At the lighthouse an Italian speaking French fluently came to our rescue. We had no special object in making a debarkment here, but since the storm drove us into shelter the staff of scientific collectors determined to examine the nearest ground. The zoölogist, with his assistant, searched the shore for shells and marine life; the geologist went to examine the sand-dunes, while the surgeon remained to administer to the wants of the natives, from whom some prized ethnographic specimens were obtained. The earlier Indian tribes, which once roamed over this region, like those of the coastal regions farther north, have entirely vanished. There are no trees nor is agriculture in the immediate vicinity possible. A few cactus plants are the only green spots which cheer up the dull white sands. But a short distance inland there is excellent grazing, and here are found some of the most magnificent cattle farms of the world.

After our collecting tour we assembled at the home of the chief sealer. Here the customary native hospitality was extended to us with open arms. The women prepared _maté_, the South American tea, while the men brought out their most precious varieties of alcohol and cigarettes. The good people of the entire encampment, about fifty in number, then assembled to do us honour. Among these there were a few _gauchos_, the South American prototypes of our own cowboys, and two or three travellers en route to Montevideo from Rio Grande do Sul; all the others were engaged in the various departments of sealing. They had taken many seals the year before, and 16,000 during the previous season, all of these from the rocks which surround the cape. The seals are of a common variety, yielding oil and leather but no fur. As we departed we were loaded with presents and treated and toasted again with _maté_ and brandy, ingredients as necessary to South American hospitality as whisky and cigars to the success of an old time political meeting in the United States.

At four o’clock on the morning of the tenth, we tipped our anchor and drew out of the little harbour, steaming into the Plata, close to its northern bank. Throughout the day we had the low sandy beds of Uruguay on our port bow. On these there was an occasional group of cactus, but they seemed from a distance like projecting rocks and, aside from the relief which they afforded, there was nothing to break the monotony. It was one long, nearly level bank of lifeless sand. In the back ground an occasional row of blue hills marked the position of a warm and more promising country.

On the morning of the eleventh the scene had noticeably changed. We had passed Cape Maldonado during the night and were heading for Flores Island in a direct course for Montevideo beyond. The land no longer presented the sterile sand-driven beach, but gray wind-rasped hills, separated by patches of forest and fronted by prominent highlands which stood out boldly against a clearing sky. The temperature rose quickly as we advanced into the river. We passed Flores Island at two o’clock, and dropped anchor in the horseshoe bend which forms the imperfect harbour of Montevideo.

We had been met farther out in the stream by the customs and quarantine officers, but these troubled us little, and were of much less interest to us than our third visitor, the congenial representative of the Belgian Consulate, who brought our letters and some news of interest. To us the most startling news was the story of the bold attempt to assassinate President Barros of Brazil, whose friendly hand we had shaken only a few days previous, apparently surrounded by all possible guards to perfect safety. This case, however, while somewhat startling to a stranger, illustrates one of the recognised methods for changing presidents in the Spanish American republics. The President of Uruguay was summarily disposed of in the same manner only a few months ago, while his successor is probably awaiting his turn with resigned fate. The life of a president hereabout is evidently not one of any special ease, security, or comfort.

The city of Montevideo presents, even from a distance, an air of thrift, wealth, and comfort. El Cerro, a nipple-shaped mount, is the only distinguishing feature of the landscape which marks the sight of the port. It rises in a gentle slope to the height of five hundred feet, about a half mile from the rugged beach on the western side of the bay. Its sides are covered with a thin grass which is now giving place to residences, a result of the recent growth of the city. The top is crowned by a fort, and within this there rises a splendid lighthouse, whose powerful revolving light is visible at sea twenty-five miles from the coast. The main portion of the city stands upon a peninsula of gently rising ground on the east side of the bay. From here the town spreads over a large portion of the mainland and there are several prominent buildings which stand out boldly over the low houses which compose the body of the city. To one coming from Rio Janeiro or other cities in the tropics, the most noticeable feature of this city is the dense volume of smoke arising from its chimnied houses and thrifty factories: the latter are a certain sign of an agreeable climate and dry apartments--comforts foreign to torrid America.

It was, perhaps, eight o’clock in the evening before we had finished reading our letters and were ready for a debarkment. The afternoon was fairly clear, there had been little wind, and the temperature was extremely agreeable; but now the aspect changed with such suddenness as to cause some anxiety for the ship’s safety during the coming night. Huge fantastic rolls of lead-like sheets of clouds drove rapidly over the sky from the west, and painted the whole scene in an inky blackness with such marvellous speed that we were amazed and undecided as to what it meant for some time; but a few zigzags of coloured lightning and a deafening burst of thunder soon explained to us the character of the coming commotion. Thinking that we could reach the shore before the shower commenced, we descended into one of the tugs, which at once headed for one of the many lights standing out boldly in the inky blackness shoreward. But on our way we were pelted and pounded by such a hail storm as had never fallen to my lot. The globules were about the size of a large marble, and fell in such numbers that, though the fall did not continue more than ten minutes, it completely covered the decks. As we reached the shore, and mounted to the pier with our hats battered and our pockets full of icy spheroids, we had to face still another trial characteristic of the Plata, a rain storm. But this rain storm while interesting from a meteorological standpoint did not arouse us to a sense of study. Big drops came quickly in the wake of the hail pellets, and these multiplied with such rapidity that in a few minutes, and before we could find shelter, it seemed as if all the clouds of heaven had united to pour upon us a cold torrent.

Drenched as thoroughly as if we had been overboard, we shortly found our way to the Hotel Oriental, and here the entire upper floor was placed at the disposition of the members of the expedition. After a comfortable night’s rest and a cup of delicious Rio coffee brought to our bedside--a custom which is everywhere in South America a joy--we prepared for a material study of the city and its resources.

San Felipe de Monte Video is the full name of the capital of the Oriental Republic of Uruguay, but it is now generally written Montevideo. It has a population of about 200,000, and of these it is said that not less than 50,000 are foreign residents. The entire Republic has a population not exceeding 800,000, hence one quarter of Uruguayan residences are here closely huddled together near the mouth of the Plata. The blood of the Uruguayans, aside from the complex European admixture, which is now entering their veins, is a curious blend of old Spanish and local Indian. But unlike similar hybrids many of the good qualities of the bold Spaniard, and of the freedom-loving Indian have been preserved. Hence the men have developed into a type of vigorous manhood giving an appearance at once of wild strength and refined intelligence, while the women must be considered as among the most beautiful of the world.

The trade of Montevideo seems far beyond what we would expect from a town of its size. Wool, hides, tallow, dried beef, and, in general, the products of cattle farming are the chief and nearly the only exports. But these are gathered from the interior in such tremendous quantities, and with so little expense, that they form an enviable source of wealth; and since this is also one of the chief exports of the United States, it is evident that Uruguay is to us a formidable commercial rival. The imports are very large, because this is a centre from which much of the country in the Plata basin is supplied. The imports consist principally of cotton, woollen and silk fabrics, hardware, wine, various food products, and, within the past few years, much improved machinery has been bought. The trade is almost entirely with the various states of Europe, of which England claims twenty-five per cent. The means of transportation to the United States is so imperfect, and the efforts of our merchants have been so feeble that Yankee goods are little in evidence here.

From our balcony at the hotel we had a charming view of the city and of the bay which forms the harbour. Twenty-seven steamers of huge tonnage were anchored at various points, mostly far from the shore. A little nearer were a series of cruisers from various nations. Among these was the beautiful little _Castine_ of our White Squadron, and _H. M. S. Retribution_. Still nearer were a large number of flat-bottom river crafts, which navigate the Parana and Uruguay rivers. The harbour thus presented every evidence of thrift and industry, while the many large warehouses fronting the water were sufficient proof of the great commerce. The city is composed mostly of tile-roofed two-story stone houses, neat in appearance, and comfortable in equipments. The law prohibits the building of private residences more than seventeen metres in height. But there are many public buildings which are raised much higher, and notable among these is the imposing structure which now belongs to the University of Montevideo. It was originally built as a hotel, but was finally bought by the Government as the home of its principal institute of learning. The building occupies a good sized square, is five stories in height, and has a wide open centre with balconies on every floor. The institution has excellent laboratories, libraries, and is in many ways well adapted for modern education. It is thus a proof of the noble and higher aims of our little sister Republic.

Closely connected with the University is the growing fame of a young Italian bacteriologist--Dr. I. Sanarelli. Two years ago Dr. Sanarelli accepted a position on the staff of the Institute of Hygiene, and in addition to his regular work he has devoted much of his time to a careful search for the germ of yellow fever. His efforts seem to have been crowned with success, for he is to-day the most noted man in all South America. I heard the name of Dr. Sanarelli on every tongue from the Amazon to the Plata, and I expected to pay him a formal professional visit, but this was obviated by a more natural meeting. We were taking dinner at the one fashionable restaurant of the town when the famous doctor came in, and he was promptly ushered to our table.

The story of the discovery of the germ of a disease which has destroyed thousands, perhaps millions, of human lives, is a matter of considerable interest and certainly vastly more important than that of a king who has conquered nations. And if this discovery is supplemented by a remedy which will cure or prevent the disease, it will surely be one of the greatest blessings which the world has ever known. Both of these attainments seem to be within the grasp of Dr. Sanarelli. During the early part of the present year (1897) he discovered the little organism which is the cause of the yellow pest. The news has spread over the entire world, but with the usual conservative attitude of the medical profession the brilliant discovery has been but slowly recognised; even at present there are many doubters who will not accept the newly discovered organism as the sole cause of yellow fever until confirmatory observations establish the fact more definitely. The Montevideo doctors, however, one and all, accept the discovery as final and look with confidence to Dr. Sanarelli for the practical outcome of the curative plan of treatment upon which he is now experimenting.

To cure yellow fever with its cause in hand, it is proposed to make a fluid similar to the anti-diphtheritic serums, which are either destructive or inhibitory to the germs in question. Such a serum has been made and it has been tried upon beasts and men with what Dr. Sanarelli considers marked success. The Brazilian government, in whose domain there is always a nursery of the disease, has recognised the great possibilities of this work, and will shortly set up an experimental laboratory for the manufacture of the serum. For a positive judgment as to the success or failure of the serum plan of treatment we must wait for a long trial, perhaps several years; but the glory and the credit of being the first to see in this dangerous little speck of life, hitherto invisible, an enemy which has caused the death of uncounted thousands of vigorous human lives, already belongs beyond a question to Dr. Sanarelli.

Our time at Montevideo was spent in collecting articles of equipment, provisions, and general supplies, for the use of the expedition in the icy antarctic. For this purpose the city affords many advantages, since nearly all foreign goods can be obtained at very moderate prices, and the local production of fresh provisions are both limitless and cheap. Under the guidance of our thoughtful Belgian friends, we were offered every facility to enjoy the warm hospitality of the place, and to accomplish quickly the objects of our visit. And although we were anchored here less than three days, we were able to complete our mission, and see a few of the local characteristics. The stores are everywhere well stocked with domestic and foreign goods, and if the buyer is able to speak English or French he will have little difficulty in being understood. The streets are wide, regular, and well paved with granite blocks. Tram-ways afford ample but slow transit. Carriages are numerous, and can be obtained at a very moderate cost. Somewhat irregularly scattered throughout the city are small parks with neat arrangements of tropical and semi-tropical plants. The greatest attention, however, seems to be given not to flowery decorations, but to the systematic adjustment of wide promenades.

It does not take a party of young bachelors, such as the “personnel” of the _Belgica_, very long to discover the side of life with which these promenades are always closely related. Indeed, we soon found out, without assistance, the reason for their great width in proportion to the size of the park--a cause which was to us a never-ceasing pleasure. For we all arrived independently at the conclusion that this feature of the city must be due to the remarkable number and variety of strikingly beautiful women in Montevideo, and their desire to display their qualities to male admirers. So far as my limited experience goes, there is no street or promenade in the world which can offer so large a number of charming young women, in a given group and in a given time, as these palmy promenades of Montevideo. We found it difficult to assign a tangible reason for this attractiveness. It was not in the dress, for the costume was that of nearly all the civilised world. It was not in the form, in the colour of the hair, in the carriage, or in any noticeable art of manner; for all of these characteristics were comparable to those of the refined women of New York, Paris, or London. But in addition to perfection in all these matters there was about them an indescribable something, which made every woman on sight appear to be able to speak her own ideas and the meditations of her admirers in the tongues of the observer, be he French, English, German, Spanish, or what not. Perhaps we were too much absorbed to have discriminating powers; but for this we should be pardoned, for it was about the last glance we had of women, beautiful or otherwise, during four hundred long, wintry days.

[Illustration: Part of Montevideo.]

The most prominent citizen of the United States in Uruguay is a modest Bostonian of whom we hear little at home, but who is well-known throughout South America. It is Mr. Thomas W. Howard, who has enjoyed the unparalleled distinction of being a consular representative of the United States for nearly thirty years. The force of character, the executive ability and faithfulness to the home Government, necessary to retain such a position through all the political upheavals, must be evident to every one. The fact is, that Mr. Howard has performed his duties so faithfully, and is such a favourite at once among his countrymen and the Uruguayans, that a change has been found to be undesirable by both the Democratic and Republican parties. Mr. Howard’s residence is one of the bits of local architecture which is much discussed and admired. It is situated in the most fashionable part of the town, on the border of a small but luxuriant park. Its external appearance is not extraordinary in either size or loveliness, appearing simply as a substantial structure of bright sandstone with two stories, but the interior displays wealth and artistic taste. Here expensively polished marbles, rare antique furniture, and tasteful decorations are everywhere in evidence. It is the home of a cultivated and refined man of the world, amid the boundless South American luxuries.

It is impossible for me to give in this limited space the various phases of interesting life in this merry Paris of South America, so I will close with a few general impressions: First, Montevideo is a city of uncounted natural wealth, for prosperity is stamped on the blocks of every street, on the modest but comfortable homes, on the stores, the hotels, the clubs, and the churches. Second, it is a city of charming women, against whom I could bring but one indictment, that of disbelieving in their natural charms to such an extent as to lead them into a lavish use of artificial colouring and powder. Third, the enjoyment of life is here one of the prominent arts of daily occupation. Merry faces are always in evidence, and the light, airy laughter of both sexes bursts with the ease of soap bubbles. Deep meditation, curbing, or melancholy cares, and profound inspirations are usually out of sight. Among Uruguayans life is indeed a happy, leaping, bubbling stream.

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