  A great waterway—The river compared with the ParanÁ—Some questions of navigation—The lower stretch of the Uruguay—The stream from Montevideo upwards—Montevideo—The docks—An imposing array of Mihanovich craft—Breadth of the river—Aspects of the banks—Various types of vessels—The materials of their cargoes—The meeting of sister steamers—The etiquette of salutations—Fray Bentos—The Lemco factory and port—A notable spot—The paradise of the eater—The islands of Uruguay—Method of their birth and growth—The responsibility of leaves and branches—Uncertainty of island life—The effects of flood and current—Sub-tropical bergs—The vehicles of wild creatures—A jaguar visitation in Montevideo—Narrowing of the stream—PaysandÚ—The home of ox-tongues—The second commercial town of the Republic—Some features of the place—Variety of the landscape—The Mesa de Artigas—An historical table-land—A monument to the national hero—Salto—A striking town—Pleasant landscape—The Salto falls—The ending of the lower Uruguay—A rocky bed—Some minerals of Salto—Alteration in the colour of the water—The beauty of the upper Uruguay. As a waterway the Uruguay River is of infinite service to the Republic whose western coastline it serves. It is true that, compared with the ParanÁ, the stream suffers somewhat both as regards length and navigable facilities. Both rivers have much in common, in that either has its source in the mountain ranges that fringe the coast of Brazil, and either flows first to the west, then southwards until the junction of the pair forms the broad River Plate. But, whereas the ParanÁ rises in latitude 22° south the first waters of the Uruguay do not come into The lower stretch of the Uruguay holds an obstacle to navigation that is unknown in the corresponding waters of the ParanÁ. At Salto, some two hundred miles above the mouth, falls extend from the one bank to the other, and thus bar the passage of all vessels. Above this place, however, is the starting-point for the lighter draught steamers that continue their northward course for many hundreds of miles. As though to compensate for the barrier, the first two hundred miles of the Uruguay represent a particularly noble highway of waters, far broader and more imposing, indeed, than the equivalent stretch of the ParanÁ. Ocean-going vessels here penetrate to PaysandÚ, and beyond it to the Lemco port of ColÓn on the Argentine shore, while the really magnificent steamers of the River King, Mihanovich, produce their finest specimens to ply to and fro here. But, as the banks of the stream contain not only some of the most fertile lands in the Republic but much of interest beyond, it is worth while to follow its course, beginning at Montevideo itself, which, as a matter of fact, is somewhat to anticipate the waters of the true Uruguay. By the quayside of the capital are grouped three or four of the Mihanovich craft, large, two-funnelled vessels with an imposing array of decks surmounted by an unusually spacious promenade that crowns the whole. One of these is bound for Salto—or rather for the Argentine town of Concordia that lies opposite that port—but just now it is not advisable to be tied hard and fast to her broad decks, since she must call at Buenos Aires on her way, and at many other spots outside Uruguay and the scope of this book. We will therefore perform the strange feat of making a break in the trip ere it is begun. In any case it is necessary to leave the quay over whose broad, paved surface of reclaimed land the cabs are rattling, and where the policeman and porters stand, and where, moreover, a strong group of Salvationists are singing lustily, surrounded by a motley but attentive group such as the precincts of a port attract. But the graceful Triton shall churn her way out into the open without us, since we will cling so far as possible to the Uruguayan shore, forging upwards through the yellowing waters, to halt at Sauce with its willow-covered lands and Colonia with its rocky beach, until Carmelo is passed, and at Nueva Palmira the River Uruguay has been fairly entered. Even then, however, it is necessary to accept the fact more or less on trust, and to confide in the accuracy of the map rather than in that of the eyesight. For the faint line that has recently appeared on the horizon to the left might as well stand for a distant streak upon the waters as for the low-lying Argentine shore that it actually represents. To the right, the Uruguayan bank is well defined. Here the undulations of the land swell boldly out from the edge of the river, while in many places rocks and boulders strew the sloping foreshore as though to accentuate the frontier between stream and land that is so faintly defined upon the opposite coast. Here and there the verdure of the hills is broken by the darker green bands of the eucalyptus plantations, through which from time to time gleam the white walls of an estancia-house. At intervals the chimneys of a saladero prick upwards from the nearer neighbourhood of the bank. About these centres of their doom the speck-like figures of the cattle dot the surrounding pastures, grazing in fortunate ignorance of their end. The traffic upon the river itself is by no means inconsiderable. Native topsail schooners laden with jerked beef, fruit, and timber come gliding serenely down the stream beneath their spread of sail. One of these craft is especially indicative of the main industry of the land. The vessel is laden as high as the booms will permit with horns of cattle, the bleaching mounds of which must represent the sacrifice of many thousands of animals. There are smart Government tugs, too, that hold the official guardians of the mighty stream, and great dredgers of queer and monstrous shape that steam slowly along to find an anchorage where the bottom is shallow, and there remorselessly to bite out mouthfuls from the unduly lofty bed. At rarer intervals appear the ocean-going craft and sailing vessels. It would be safe to wager that there is not one of those passing down-stream that is not laden with some portions or other of the bodies bequeathed to humanity by the unconsulted yet generous bovine souls. Nevertheless the exact species of cargo would be more difficult to predict. It might be beef itself, or hides that will make leather upon which to sit while consuming the meat, or horns which will provide handles for the necessary complement of knives, or indeed many other products useful for similar purposes. There never was such a creature as the ox for the provision of a variety of articles that all eloquently urge the benefit of his death! A tall and majestic structure has come into sight from round a bend in the stream now, and is sweeping rapidly downwards. With grey hull, white upper-works about her rows of decks, and twin black funnels to cap the whole, she is one of the proud fleet of steamers that ply throughout the entire system of the great rivers. If the vessel upon which you Upon the right-hand side Fray Bentos has come into view, marked in the first place by a great collection of tall black chimneys glistening in the sun. Beneath is verdure, and massive white buildings, and streets of dwelling-houses, while to the front is the Lemco port with a small forest of masts rising from its waters. The place, in a double sense, represents the very incarnation of Uruguay's trade. A greedy spot that swallows live cattle by tens of thousands to render them up again in the pathetically diminished form of extract! Even now the odour of soup floats heavily in the air from across a mile of water—a proof that Fray Bentos is busily occupied in turning out its brown rivers of fluid. The factory, the most notable in the country, is indeed strongly symbolical of the land where starvation in ordinary circumstances of peace has never yet been known. Havana may be the paradise of the smoker, Epernay that of the champagne lover; but the eater's heaven is undoubtedly situated in Uruguay, a paradise in which the spirits of departed and honest butchers might well revel in perfect joy. Just above Fray Bentos the islands dot the river The conception of one of these is evident even now. A tangle of the thick leaves of the camelota—the water plant with its mauve hyacinth-like flower—has in its downward floating course fouled the earth of a shallow in mid-stream. The arrested clump of green has already inveigled other objects to keep it company in its trap. A few sticks and branches and tufts of grass are already fast in the embrace of the powerful stems and green leaves, while at the end that faces the stream the water-driven sand has risen at the obstacle, and has shyly protruded a small round hump or two above the ripples. The life of the thing is as uncertain as that of a seedling or of a human child. Under favourable conditions it will grow and solidify year by year until from the few leaves and sticks will have extended some square miles of tree-covered soil. On the other hand, it may be swept remorselessly away in its earliest days ere the tentative formation has had time to secure sufficiently firm hold of the earth. A URUGUAYAN STREAM. To face p. 230. In any case the life of these islands is comparatively With Fray Bentos once left in the rear, the river becomes distinctly narrowed, and, where no islands intervene, the features of either bank begin to be clearly distinguished at the same time. The Argentine shore has broken away from its dead level now, and is rising in gentle undulations; the Uruguayan coast, too, as though in a determined endeavour to retain its physical superiority, has taken to heap itself in far loftier and more imposing hills than before. The next town of importance at which the steamer halts is that of PaysandÚ, the great centre of ox-tongues. Indeed, were one to adopt the popular figurative methods of certain magazines, amazing results might well be extracted from the commerce of the place. Thus, supposing a year's accumulation of PaysandÚ ox-tongues were able jointly to give forth the notes that they were wont to render in life, the effect of the combined roar would probably be to deafen the entire populace of the Republic, PaysandÚ ranks as the second commercial city in the Republic. It is true that, so far as size is concerned, it is altogether dwarfed by Montevideo, since the inhabitants of the smaller town number only twenty thousand or so. Yet, the centre of a rich pastoral and agricultural province, the place is of no little commercial importance, and, although its architecture remains largely of the pleasant but old-fashioned Spanish style, not a few new buildings and boulevards have already sprung into existence. Like the majority of towns of its kind, it is well equipped with electric lighting, telephones, and other such modern appliances, although its tramcar traction is still effected by the humbler methods of the horse. To the north of PaysandÚ the stream narrows, the islands become few and far between, and the course of the river is distinct and well-defined. The landscape, too, is more varied now than that of the lower reaches. Among the Uruguayan rounded hills a few well-marked tablelands spread their broad, level surfaces in the way that is characteristic of so many parts of the Republic. Both the inland valleys and river banks are covered with an added density of vegetation, while beaches of shining white sand jut out at intervals from the shore. As for the Argentine bank, it has quite suddenly assumed a marked individuality of its own. It is covered with a reddish yellow rolling soil, tinged only lightly with green, from which close groves of palm-trees sprout upwards for mile after mile. It is as though a portion of Africa on the one shore were facing a The water itself has been growing more limpid all the while, now that the dead-flat, soft, alluvial soil of the Argentine bank has given way to a harder and more stony surface. It has become shallow in parts, too, and the nose of the steamer often gives a tentative turn to the right or left as she cautiously feels her way. The craft has penetrated almost to the limits of the lower stretch of the great river now, and the rising bed is a premonitory symptom of the end. On the right has now risen the loftiest bluff that has yet marked the Uruguayan shore. It forms one of the walls of a striking and bold table-land. The place is now known as the Mesa de Artigas—the table of Artigas. It was upon the summit of this hill that the Uruguayan national hero had his chief encampment, and it has been described as a desolate and lonely spot, haunted by murdered spirits and by the memory of horrors, that no living being cared to approach. The description cannot be said to hold good at the present moment. The green slopes are dotted with grazing cattle and sheep, while at one point the distant figures of two mounted Gauchos are careering to and fro, and the cattle in the neighbourhood are wheeling together and lumbering forward as a result of their manoeuvres. On the summit of the tableland is a peculiarly tall stone pedestal that rises from a great pyramidal base to soar high upwards against the sky-line. The shaft is surmounted by a bust that represents Artigas himself. The entire structure is on the colossal side, and the effect of the bust poised on high against the blue of the air is curious rather than effective. Viewing it from far below, it is difficult to avoid the impression that the head and shoulders, placed half-way between earth and heaven, are pleading To the north of the Mesa de Artigas the landscape of the river continues bold and hilly. A score or so of miles up-stream from the monument lies the town of Salto, the last place of real importance upon this stretch of the Uruguayan frontier. With its buildings rising to cover the hills of its site, the panorama of Salto is more imposing in its way than that of any other town on the banks of the stream. Indeed, piled on the summit of cliffs and bluffs, the white masses of masonry, crowned by a few steeples and towers, are visible from far inland upon the Argentine territory as well as from the remoter neighbourhoods of its own soil. The river just here is exceptionally populous, since facing Salto from across the waters is Concordia, a large and thriving Argentine town. The population of Salto is slightly in excess of twenty thousand, and, like every other town along the length of the stream, it serves as a storehouse for the pastoral and agricultural industries of the district. In many respects, however, the situation of the town gives it a commercial scope greater than that of the more southern towns. Although the climate lacks sufficient heat for the production of the banana and similar sub-tropical growths, the variety of fruit is very great. The orange flourishes in exceptional abundance here, and its cultivation forms a valuable addition to the wealth of the district. A CORNER OF THE FRAY BENTOS FACTORY. To face p. 234. Pleasantly situated, with shaded plazas and avenues, and with the orchards, vineyards, orange-groves, and well-timbered country of its outskirts, It is in the neighbourhood of Salto that is found the curious water stone that is referred to elsewhere in this book. It is in this province too that exist the topaz and amethyst mines. The visitor, however, need not trouble his head to start out upon any expedition with the object of picking up any of these curiosities. The topaz and amethyst fields are well-defined private property, while the water-stone is as shy and elusive as a four-leaved clover at home. If in quest of these objects, it is wiser to restrict the field of adventure to the Salto shops. It has been noticeable all the time whilst ascending the river that the water has steadily become less tinged with yellow. Above the falls, however, the distinction is far more marked. The stream here is peculiarly limpid, and the effect at a northern spot such as Santa Rosa, almost on the Brazilian frontier, is entrancing. Here the river is at times of a brilliant blue tint—a broad azure ribbon winding between swelling banks covered now with dense folds of vegetation. Viewed from the rising ground in the |
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