TO a European the farms of South America offer such contrasts to those he is familiar with in his own country that he finds it difficult to become accustomed to the immense areas of treeless plains that constitute the estancias of the New World. Everything is on a large scale there. A vast territory, now gently rolling like a heaving sea, now flat as an unruffled lake, with few objects to break the eternal straightness of the distant horizon. The atmosphere and the many illusions it creates offer the greatest variety, however, and as day succeeds day with ceaseless regularity ever changing effects of light and colour diversify the aspect of the landscape. The roads through these unbounded plains are wide-extended tracks, fenced in from the private pastures of the estancias, going generally straight for scores of miles. Driving along these tracks behind four horses in a light covered trap the stranger’s ear is open to receive the softest sound, and eyes to note the slightest variations presented. The silence is broken by the fluttering flight of parrots, pigeons, and small brown owls disturbed from their solemn doze by the approaching team, moving on from perch to perch, always settling ahead to be disturbed again. The lowing of the cattle, the swift stampede of groups of wild horses, and the vast hum of insects break faintly upon the ear. Along the track and in the adjacent fields the whitening bones of animals stare out from the rich verdure that has not quite enwrapped them. These pathetic reminders of the fate that overtakes many of the herd are very plentiful, for whenever an animal dies in the camp, the skin only is removed by the gaucho or cowboy, who comes across it in his daily round, and the carcase is left for the hawks and other carrion-eaters, who lose no time in stripping it of flesh, time and the elements slowly completing the dissolution, and eventually removing the last vestiges of the animal’s existence.

From the beginning to the end of a journey tall rheas flit across the scene. These birds, the ostriches of South America, abound in many districts. They formerly had a geographical range extending from Southern Brazil and Uruguay to as far south as the Rio Negro in distant Patagonia. But the incursions of man, who slew thousands of them for their feathers, have cleared the more cultivated districts, and now they are mostly found on the camps of Uruguay, and the provinces of Corrientes and Missiones, and Paraguay. The Rhea americana resembles its distant relative in South Africa in general appearance, but differs widely when inspected closely. It boasts three toes, and thus goes one better than the ostrich. It is true its plumage cannot compete with that of the latter bird, for it lacks the beautiful curly wing and tail feathers. This is perhaps an advantage to the bird, although a loss to the country. The feathers of the head and neck are a dingy white, those on the crown of the head are of a brownish hue, while the under feathers of the belly and thigh are white, the body feathers being a grey-brown colour. These feathers can only serve the useful purpose of making brushes, and have no claims to be promoted to the high office of adorning ladies’ bonnets. The rhea is a polygamous bird, and the male so thoroughly domesticated that he performs the duty of hatching out the eggs of several of his wives. Their nests of dried grass are easily found, for they have no protection save the long grass that grows around them. On the approach of danger the parent birds sitting upon the nests rise and take to flight, running with rapid strides and outstretched wings, and soon are lost to sight in the airy distance of the plains. On most of the camps the chasing of the birds is forbidden, although instructions are given to destroy their eggs. The race between bird and mounted pursuer disturbs the herds, and does more harm to the live stock than would be compensated for by the feathers that may be plucked. On some native estancias the practice obtains of leasing out the right to capture the birds and pluck them. This is accomplished by throwing three heavy balls attached to the end of a long line round the legs of the running birds. The horseman chases the bird, and swinging the balls round, lets fly with the captive shots, which, if the aim is true, wind the rope round the victim’s legs and quickly bring him to earth. The desired feathers are plucked, and the denuded bird allowed to escape. It is no uncommon thing, however, to see a few gauchos for pure sport surreptitiously chasing these birds. The excitement of the chase appeals to men who live in the saddle, and who love to show off the fleetness of their steeds, and even a chance spectator who witnesses the wild rush of bird and horse across country cannot help catching some of the enthusiasm, and strains his vision to its utmost to witness the finish of a race. There is no shelter for the bird, no way of escaping the unwelcome attentions of his pursuer except by sheer fleetness and endurance. The illimitable camp stretches around for hundreds of miles, and the essential qualities of bird and horse have a fair field and no favour. The rhea is a sociable bird, and is generally found in untrodden regions of the continent, grazing with the llamas and wild cattle in close proximity to or on the estancias that are under man’s control, along with the great herds of sheep and cattle. In this he is like the ostrich, who accepts the companionship of the antelope and zebra of his native land. There is plenty of room on the great plains for all, and they live at peace with neighbours who offer no competition in the struggle for existence. Another curiosity of the camp is the little “armadillo.” It is true one has to search for them, for they are nocturnal in their habits, and not often encountered in the daytime. They are well protected with a hard, strong shell which covers their backs, and when in danger they can move very quickly on their short, strong legs, or can bury themselves underground until the danger that threatens them is past. Night is the best time to catch them, and dogs are used in the pursuit. The armadillo is found all over South America, and in the lone caves of Brazil the fossil remains of gigantic ancestors of this creature as large as the rhino of Africa have frequently been discovered. The armadillos generally feed on roots, worms, and insects, and they assist the hawks and other carrion-eaters to dispose of the putrefying carcases of cattle, sheep, and horses that strew the camp. The flesh of this armour-plated animal is eaten, and is considered a delicacy by the natives all over the country from north to south. It is generally roasted or smoked in its shell, and the Indians of the Guiana will gorge themselves upon this dish whenever they have an opportunity.

The great distances that separate many of the estancias from the stations or ports give employment to thousands of horses, and the usual method of travelling is either by riding or driving in light covered carts drawn by four horses. If the journey is very long, eight horses are taken, half of them drawing the carriage, the other half being driven on in front, and harnessed at some half-way point, an estancia or “pulperia,” where the first team is released and allowed to rest until the return of the conveyance from its destination. These pulperia or native stores are very primitive affairs. A few sticks mud-plastered form the walls, mother earth the floor, while reeds and grasses thatch the roof. When the traveller arrives at one of these he generally finds a few horses, with fore feet hobbled, dozing under the shade cast by a few trees that are planted round the huts, swishing their tails to keep away the flies. Inside the hut or store two or three gauchos squat on boxes, bags, or barrels, and in the intervals of drinking their native spirit, “bolichi” (a fiery, untamed brand), chat with the “bolichero” or publican. The talk is all of the

camp, for the outside world of civilisation is only a name to them, and the echoes of its doings fall but faintly upon their ears. Horses, cattle, the doings of the neighbouring estancias are discussed with the dark-bearded host, who is the newsvendor to the country-side. Shepherds from far outlying “puestos,” who live in solitary isolation from even the other gauchos of the estancias, find their visits to these wayside inns the principal excitement of their lives. Long journeys of scores of miles, that would be an expedition to an English horseman, are nothing to them. They are as much at home and at their ease in their great saddles, as a club man is in a smoking-room chair, and they can sleep in them as easily as in their beds. The gaucho and his horse are one, inseparable, and if the animal is his own and not one belonging to the estancia, he takes extravagant care of it. With his poncho to keep off the rain, his cigar or cigarette, his “matÉ” to make his tea in, the gaucho is equipped for any emergency. In some of the “pulperias” there are small billiard tables, not too level; for they rest upon the soft earthen floor, and when not in play are often as not used for seats by the gossips who may happen to forgather. Primitive, yet affording much of the luxury the gaucho finds in his hard life, here also he can replenish his wardrobe and his larder, for belts, knives, “alpagatos” (shoes with rope soles and canvas tops), ponchos, hang all round, and in sacks upon the ground manioca or meal lies ready for a purchaser. The goods retailed are of the cheapest description, most of them of German origin, and especially made to suit the gauchos’ requirements. Primitive ideas obtain amongst these people, and many superstitions too. In one of these “pulperias” I noticed a small pup of only a few days old, lying upon the floor whining piteously for its mother; and on my noticing it, the bolichero explained that it was in transit to a native woman who was suffering from a too liberal secretion of milk. The dress of the gauchos of Uruguay and in the northern provinces of Argentina is strongly reminiscent of the quaint costumes worn by the old-fashioned residents in the island of Marken in the Zuyder Zee. The great baggy trousers called “bombachos” are the feature of the dress common to both, and are so distinctive that one wonders if there can be any connection between them. At all events, they are well suited for riding in a hot climate, for they permit the air to circulate freely about the nether limbs. Apart from the bombachos, the dress of the gaucho has but little in common with the old-time Dutchman, unless it be the tight waistcoats and close-fitting sleeves of the shirts affected by many of them.

They are fond of a touch of colour, however, and although the material out of which their bombachos are made is generally of natural tints, their socks will vie with the most glaring necktie of a Brazilian gentleman. Emerald-green, sky-blue, chrome-yellow, and scarlet-vermilion fresh placed upon a palette are not more striking, and all these are generally selected to enhance

the beauty of their ponchos. The poncho is an overall, a gigantic fore-and-aft bib, sleeveless, but an admirable protection from the heat and rain. Hanging loosely from the shoulders, it covers the arms in its ample folds, and, like the “bombachos,” allows the air to blow round the heated body. This narrow sheet, with a slit in the middle, is found all over South America and in Mexico, and it has many advantages to recommend it over a sleeved garment. In Chili and Peru the better ones are made out of the llama wool, so fine and hard that they are almost impervious to rain, while their lightness is such that their weight is hardly felt. A good poncho in Chili or Peru often costs as much as £20, but those worn by the gauchos of Argentine and Uruguay are quite cheap and tawdry in comparison. The gaucho takes a great pride in the accoutrements of his horse, and he spends considerable time and pains to have his best Sunday or holiday saddle and bridle replete with a collection of old Spanish coins nailed on to the leather wherever opportunity offers. Brilliant red plush or dyed sheepskin is placed over the saddle, and when he is mounted wearing his best “poncho” and “bombachos,” and broad sombrero hat, he cuts a brave figure to go courting. On the camp his life is one of simple monotony, one continuous round of hard riding and attending to the cattle, searching the herds for sickness or rounding them up into “rodeo” to separate those that are ready for the journey to the “saladero,” “frigorifico,” or meat factory, branding the young cattle with the mark of the estancia, either by slitting their ears or puncturing them, or with the hot iron burning in a distinctive number upon the haunch. He rises at daylight, generally about five o’clock, and in the common, soot-stained kitchen—the “cocina” cuts a great hunk of roasted beef, takes a small handful of farina, and washes this down with draughts of yerba sucked through the “bombilla” (a little tube of metal

with a bulbous strainer) from the little scooped-out gourd or matÉ which he always carries with him. Then his day’s work begins. After harnessing his horse, he mounts and separates from his companions, each of whom takes a different direction—riding out to the particular paddock allotted to his care. In his long, lonely patrol he keeps his eye ever on the alert to discover any sick or dead animals that may be lying in the long grass. His keen and practised eye watches the flight of the carrion-birds, and when he sees these greedy scavengers gathering together he knows their quarry is not far off. With these to guide him, he searches till he finds the carcase, which he carefully inspects to ascertain the cause of death. If it is of a malignant nature, he gathers together dried grass and scrub with branches of trees, which he often has to go miles to discover, and placing them round the carcase, sets fire to it, to prevent infection from spreading to the herds. If the cause of death is not of this nature he quickly removes the hide, ties it upon his saddle, and continues on his round of inspection. It is six or seven hours before he returns to the estancia, where he pegs out the hides he has brought with him before sitting down to his “almuerzo,” or midday meal. This eleven o’clock repast varies slightly from the one he partook of in the early morning, consisting as it does of “puchero,” or boiled meat instead of roasted. The meal finished, there are duties about the steading to be seen to, and in the heat of the day the siesta to be indulged in. At three o’clock he has another meal, consisting of matÉ alone, before going out again to the camp; and on his return at seven in the evening he talks over the details of the day’s doings with his fellows over another meal of the boiled beef, “matÉ,” and farina. After a smoke, a little music from a banjo or guitar played with an untutored skill by one of the party, they seek their beds—simple pallets of canvas stretched between collapsible trestles, something like exaggerated camp-stools. Next day the same round of duties awaits him, except for the variations that arise at special seasons when sheep-shearing, cattle-branding, calf-gelding, horse-breaking are going forward. Large numbers of horses run and breed practically in a wild state upon the estancias, and the task of breaking them in falls to the gauchos. This is an art and a pastime that they revel in, and as they are paid extra for every colt that they render fit for riding, there is no dearth of volunteers for this necessary part of the estancia work. A herd of horses is driven up by a bunch of horsemen into a corral. The colt or filly to be broken is singled out and lassoed by one of the men, who drags it out into the open. More lassoes are fastened round the fore and hind legs, and the animal is brought to earth. After a raw-hide bit is fastened round its lower jaw, the frightened creature is allowed to regain a standing position, and is hitched up to a post. One man covers its eyes, whilst a great bundle of soft sheepskins is being fastened securely on its back. All this time the fore legs are kept firmly tied together. When all is ready, the man who is to break it in grasps the raw-hide bridle, and jumps lightly on its back. Then the struggle between man and brute commences in grim earnest. With a powerful whip the man belabours the struggling steed, and with a horseman riding on either side to guide the wild beast, the trio gallop off across the plain at a break-neck pace. Before this mad race is started, the untamed one struggles and bucks to rid himself of the unnatural encumbrance. He rolls on the

ground, lowers his head, and throws his unshod heels high into the air, and then finding that all his efforts are vain, he tears off in a wild fury, hoping to get relief. The race continues until the brute’s strength weakens, and he is turned by the accompanying riders, for he does not yet understand, nor if he could, would he yield to the guidance of the bridle. When the trio return to the “corral,” where a crowd of gauchos have stood witnessing the fun, the exhausted animal is relieved of man, saddle, and bridle, and is turned loose amongst his fellows in the corral. Then they are all set at liberty to roam the paddock till the next day, when the operation is repeated. It takes many lessons to break in a horse, and the sudden change from the completest freedom to the fastest bondage is no doubt very irksome to the animal. After about three or four weeks of training, however, the horse’s lesson is learnt, and the man’s reward is earned. There still exists on some estancias the primitive custom of branding the cattle in almost as rough a fashion as the breaking in of the horses. The herds are rounded up by the horseman into a great bunch, called a rodeo. The unbranded are lassoed by the head and horns, and dragged out of the bellowing crowd. Another lasso is thrown and captures the hind legs, and the animal, then completely overcome, is thrown on its side and the branding iron applied. In modern camps an easier method is employed. The cattle are “corralled” and driven through a long spar-railed passage in which gates are arranged for the purpose of dividing the cattle into different groups, so that as the animals move along, and one is required to go one way, a gate is opened, allowing it to pass out, the gate closing behind it, and leaving the passage free for the next to move into another division if desired. The branding is performed in this passage. One man grasps the animal’s tail and pulls it through the open fence of the “race” or passage, whilst another catches the horns and holds the head firmly against the opposite side. If the brand is to be applied to the rump, the position is in every way favourable for performing that operation; should the brand of the estancia be an ear-mark, the head is in an equally advantageous position.

Branding is a very necessary precaution against cattle-stealing. When an “estanciero” parts with his cattle, he duplicates the brand and the new owner applies his, so that the animal has three brands upon it. This prevents stealing, for if an animal has only one brand of its original owner, it is obvious to the authorities that it has not been legitimately acquired. A brand in duplicate upon an animal is evidence that it is no longer in the possession of the owner of that brand. Should he, however, repurchase one of his former stock, it will have four brands upon it, the two original ones and the two added by the last owner. Transactions, however, of this kind are not of frequent occurrence. Ear-marking is a form of branding that in some instances looks very unsightly, as, for instance, when both ears are slit down, giving the animal the appearance of having four ears.

The sheep and cattle dips which are necessary to rid the herds of ticks and other insects, form landmarks on the camps, as do the iron-frame windmills which pump up the water for the stock. There has been much discussion recently as to what is the coat of arms of the Argentine Republic, and this nice question in heraldry has not yet been settled. To a stranger the matter seems simple enough, for nothing could be more suitable than a windmill revolving against an azure sky, or a herd romping on a “field vert.”

The “corrals” and runs upon the estancia are used for many purposes, such as dividing the old from the young, the bulls and heifers from the cows, the animals that are to be sold from their brothers and sisters that are not yet ready for disposal. Other “runs” are used for dipping purposes. In these the floor of the “runs” gradually descends into a long trough through which the animals have to swim, their heads being pushed under by men armed with long poles, who are stationed on the fences at either side. Sheep are handled in the same way. The dipping corrals are situated on different parts of the estancia in selected positions, and when these are at a long distance from the farmhouse the men, when employed there, cook their meals of great lumps of beef over a blaze of crackling sticks. The meat is hooked on to a long iron bar which is stuck upright in the ground, and the savoury smell of the roasting, crackling meat fills the air. When it is ready the spit is removed from the fire and stuck in the ground a little distance off, and the men gather round, and with their knives hack off great chunks weighing three or four pounds, and set to with the meat in one hand and the knife in the other, satisfying their healthy appetites. There is great waste at all these meals; the joint is not nearly consumed, and what is left is thrown into the long grass or into the dying embers of the fire. A kettle is always carried by one or other of the men to make the “matÉ” tea which washes down every meal. Yerba has a great reputation, and is largely consumed all over the southern parts of Brazil, Uruguay, and the Argentine, and even further south. To Europeans it is generally known by the name of Paraguayan tea, for, although it grows in Brazil, Corrientes, and the Chaco, its real home is in Paraguay, where it flourishes in great abundance, and its cultivation and collection form one of the principal industries. It is simply the dried leaves of a shrub that very much resembles the common holly bush. It has been in use by the Indians for centuries, although it was due to the untiring agricultural efforts of the Jesuits that its cultivation was first introduced. The plantations they made in Paraguay, Missiones, and Rio Grande de Sul are still to the fore, and from these cultivated shrubs the best tea is obtained even at the present time, and it sometimes goes by the name of “Jesuits’” or “Missiones tea.”

The collecting and preparation of the leaves of this shrub are generally performed by the Guarani Indians of the surrounding districts. The old-fashioned and native method of preparing the matÉ or yerba is quite primitive. A group of semi-nomadic Indians will search for a “Yerbula” or natural

wood where the supply is plentiful, and after forming a small camp of brush huts, proceed to collect and prepare the leaves for market. They clear a space of ground which they beat hard until it resembles a dark cemented floor, and upon this they pile the leafy branches of the tree. A fire is lit around this, care being taken not to ignite the branches and leaves, which undergo by this means a primitive process of roasting. The dried leaves are then reduced to powder in rough mortars formed by making holes in the ground, the surfaces of which are rammed hard by wooden mallets. The dusty mass is then packed and conveyed to the river banks, where it is shipped to a central market. A more improved method of roasting or drying the matÉ is practised, however, in Paraguay, where large iron pans are used for drying, and machinery is used for reducing the leaves, from which the central rib of the leaf has been removed, to a fine powder. The word matÉ, which is generally used to designate the tea, applies really to the gourd in which it is brewed, and is an old French word for “calabash.” It still is used in that sense, although very generally applied to the tea. The consumption of matÉ or yerba[1] throughout South America is very large, and is on the increase. It takes the place of China tea, and is supposed to have many virtues which neither tea nor coffee possesses. That it is sustaining there is every reason to believe; that it has a less injurious effect than tea or coffee on the system does not seem to be demonstrated; but the fact remains that the people believe in it, and have acquired a taste for it, which is largely contributed to by its cheapness. It is not agreeable to the taste of a novice, and when the “matÉ” is handed to the visitor, it is generally too hot for his unaccustomed palate. The addition of a little sugar helps to render it more pleasing to some judgments, but the gauchos on the camp do entirely without this addition. After a long journey there is no doubt that “matÉ” acts as a wonderful restorative, and the Governments of matÉ-producing States are endeavouring to bring about its adoption in the armies of Continental Europe.

A few days spent in camp are full of interest, but a prolonged residence is only for those who are either compelled by their occupation or held by their interests or inclinations to remain upon the solemn prairies. The utter loneliness would, without the occupations that pertain to the animal and agricultural life, turn the brain of one whose life has grown up amongst the life of cities, amidst the society of a variety of his fellows. It is almost as lonely as the great oceans. The dweller upon camps must of necessity be a student of the ever changing sky, of all its moods from sad to gay, stern to smiling, threatening to promising, a beauty ever various and full of an abstract fascination. At times clouds of brown dust swirl up in great curling volumes,

to obscure and tone down the brilliant displays of sunset colour upon the distant clouds. Even this phenomenon has an interest, and helps to break the tiring sameness of the plains. The flights of the innumerable feathered tribe against the sky—ducks, geese, pigeons, parrots, hawks, plovers, storks, flamingoes, herons, scissor birds, and red birds an infinite variety—help to divert the mind. It requires a long residence on the plains and an unerring intuition for direction and locality, to acquire a familiarity with all these forms of life. Landmarks that the unpractised eye would overlook become live, bold and full of meaning to a gaucho and his horse, who have been acquainted with their surroundings from their birth.