W. H. Koebel

The journey to Mercedes—The outskirts of Montevideo—Santa Lucia—A pleasant town—Native quince and gorse—San JosÉ—The terminus of a great highway—Some feats of engineering—The urban importance of San JosÉ—A modern flour mill—Mal Abrigo—Character of the soil—A country of boulders—Some animals of the Sierra de Mal Abrigo—The surroundings of Mercedes—A charmingly situated town—The terminus of the line—Some characteristics of Mercedes—Urban dwellings—The delights of the patio—The disadvantages of economy in space—Streets and plazas—The hospital—A well-equipped institution—View from the building—An island in Rio Negro—The Port of Mercedes—River craft—Some local scenes—An equine passenger—Formidable gutters—The industries of the town—The HÔtel Comercio—Colonia Suiza—Situation of the Swiss Colony—Uruguayan Campo dwellings—Method of construction—Simplicity of household removals—Aspect of deserted huts—The houses of the Swiss Colony—Habits in general of South American colonists—The range of nationalities—Liberty accorded—Population of the Colonia Suiza—Its industries—A dairy-farming community—An important butter factory—An instance of a rapid rise from poverty to riches.

The railway journey from Montevideo to the town of Mercedes, on the Rio Negro, is of ten hours' duration. The first portion of the run is, of course, through the pleasant suburbs of the capital that have already been sufficiently described. At Juanico, some forty kilometres distant from the starting-point, the denser plantations and orchards have already fallen away, and the country has definitely assumed its natural grazing character, broken into here and there by large areas of alfalfa. The place, as a matter of fact, is an important dairy centre, from which Montevideo obtains a considerable proportion of its butter, milk, and cheese.

Santa Lucia, the next halt, is another of those smiling Oriental towns embowered in gardens and orchards, and surrounded by tree-dotted pastures. Close to the confines of the town runs the Santa Lucia River, with its banks thickly bordered by willows and poplars that at one point give way to a wide avenue of the popular and gigantic eucalyptus. The spot is much patronised in the summer for the purpose of picnics; for—to his credit be it said—the Uruguayan is a great connoisseur of the al fresco and its charms.

On leaving Santa Lucia the railway line makes a sweeping bend, and then crosses the river by an iron bridge that proudly claims the distinction of being the longest on the system. Upon the farther side of the stream the country is brightened by the innumerable blossom sprays of the many wild quince-trees, and by the broad clumps of glowing gorse. Soon, however, the aspect of the landscape alters again, and the train is speeding once more through the open Campo of pasture-land and of wheat and barley fields.

San JosÉ, the next town of importance to be reached, is remarkable as being the terminus of a splendid macadamised road that runs a distance of ninety-six kilometres from Montevideo to this point. This excellent highway is constructed in a really imposing fashion, and is engineered with a lordly disregard of all obstacles. Just before reaching San JosÉ, for instance, it crosses the river in the neighbourhood of the town by a magnificent bridge no less than 360 metres in length. This work was commenced by an Uruguayan engineer in 1906, and was completed in 1909, at a cost of nearly two hundred thousand gold dollars. The Uruguayans take a vast amount of very just pride in this structure, which is probably one of the finest road bridges in existence. It forms a fitting conclusion, moreover, to the best road in lower South America.

The town of San JosÉ itself is fairly important from the point of view of population, since it numbers thirteen thousand inhabitants—a fact that places it in the first rank of the country towns of the Republic. Its chief church dominates all the remaining buildings, and affords a notable landmark for many miles around. With the exception of this, San JosÉ contains little of interest. It is, in fact, merely a typical "camp" town that serves the surrounding agricultural area. A most up-to-date mill that turns out daily twenty-one tons of flour is, however, worthy of remark, since from the moment that the wheat is dumped into the granary to that when it emerges as fine flour and is mechanically poured into sacks, the whole process is effected by machinery.

Beyond San JosÉ the line climbs gradually to the summit of a small sierra, whence a spreading panorama of the surrounding country is obtained. On leaving Mal Abrigo, the next station, the character of the landscape alters. The rich, black, vegetable soil has given way to a rocky surface. Huge boulders of all shapes are strewn everywhere as though flung by some giant upheaval into their tremendous confusion. In the intervals of these great rocks grow thorny trees and shrubs. Indeed, this Sierra de Mal Abrigo differs from anything that has gone before. Hares abound in the neighbourhood, and at the approach of the train great numbers of the animals speed away behind the sheltering boulders. The armadillo, too, is especially plentiful in this region, which seems to favour the partridge and martineta almost equally well.

Bizcocho is the last point of call before reaching Mercedes, from which it is distant some twenty kilometres. From here the ground—once again an open, treeless plain—slopes continuously as it descends towards the valley at the Rio Negro. At the near approach to Mercedes itself the country assumes the smiling aspect that seems the inevitable attribute of the environs of the Uruguayan towns. Gardens, orchards, streams, plantations, vineyards—all these flit past in rapid sequence, until the train pulls up at Mercedes station, the terminus of the line.

This terminus of the line is well defined in more senses than one. The station is situated on a bluff that hangs immediately over the Rio Negro. It is merely necessary to proceed to the end of the rails, just beyond the platform, in order to look sheer down upon the water of the river some hundred feet below. A thoughtful act on the part of the railway company to halt on the very brink, and thus to supply a panorama in the place where the rails can no longer travel!

As a town Mercedes is attractive to a degree. The place can boast of no great size, it is true, since its population does not exceed ten thousand. Yet it is exceptionally fortunate both in its situation and in the style of its buildings. The main portion of the city consists of some half-dozen streets running parallel to the river, crossed by a rather greater number of thoroughfares that lead directly from the water's edge. The houses are almost without exception of the older style of architecture—rather low, spreading buildings, each of which encloses one of those charming patios that, alas! are now growing steadily fewer with each year. Surely nothing is more delightful than this verdure-filled courtyard set in the midst of the house—the small stone-bound garden with its flowers, shrubs, and palms, on to which give all the lower rooms of the establishment! They would doubtless continue to exist for centuries were it not for the growing power and insistence of their chief enemy, economy of space!

The streets and plazas of Mercedes are fairly animated, for the town is the centre of considerable social life. The majority of folk here are of rather darker complexion than those of the capital, but the women are almost equally good-looking. Coches are plentiful in the town; each of the two-horsed buggies will seat six people with ease, and even then will speed along at an exhilarating pace, for the steeds of these public conveyances are both willing and well cared for.

The highest point of the town is occupied by the hospital. This, like so many other Uruguayan institutions of the kind, is a very fine establishment, well appointed, and provided with large, airy rooms and corridors. From the roof of this hospital is revealed a magnificent view of the town and its surroundings. The entire panorama is one not easily to be forgotten. So far as the river itself is concerned, it is possible from this point of vantage to follow its windings for miles in both directions. The river here, by the way, attains to very nearly a quarter of a mile in width—no despicable stretch of water even for a tributary of the mighty Uruguay.

In mid-stream just opposite Mercedes is an island—a gem of an island embowered in luxurious vegetation, and completely fringed by large weeping willows, whose drooping festoons of green all but touch the waters. In conformity with the utilitarian spirit of the age, a scheme is on foot for the construction of an hotel in this place, and surely no more alluring spot could be lit upon for the purpose—although the danger to the landscape from the erection of an unsuitable building would be very real.

Between this island and the buildings of the town is the port. Here the topsail schooners and the various river craft of all descriptions lie at anchor, including the small stern-wheel steamers that serve for the passenger traffic into the far interior of the land, and a few large barges piled high with the bones of cattle. Jutting out into the stream near here is a small mole, from which point a small motor-ferry is wont to ply to and fro, and thus give connection with the Fray Bentos road upon the opposite shore. Just to the left of this, anchored in mid-river, lies a large houseboat, which serves as the headquarters of the local rowing and swimming clubs.

It is, of course, in this neighbourhood that the river life is at its busiest. Upon the rocky shore are groups of women in bright-coloured dresses busily employed in washing household linen and various garments—a sight, as a matter of fact, that may be anticipated with certainty upon any populous Oriental river bank. The motor-ferry, too, has by no means the monopoly of transit, and numerous smaller craft are continually passing from one shore to the other. Their occupants are not necessarily limited to the human species. Here, for instance, is a horse being brought across in a small rowing boat. The animal appears quite unconcerned; he is doubtless accustomed to the aquatic excursions in so tiny a skiff.

Returning from the riverside, a peculiar characteristic of the Mercedes streets should attract the eye, or, failing this, stumblings will ensue of a certainty. On either side of the roadway is an immense gutter of over a yard in depth and width. These portentous channels serve to carry off the rainfall of the heavy storms that occur from time to time, and on a dark night constitute formidable obstacles in the path of an unwary foot-passenger.

Mercedes possesses a fairly important saladero, and, in addition, constitutes a centre of the charcoal-burning industry. A couple of hundred tons of this commodity is frequently shipped from the place in the course of a month. So far as hotels are concerned, the Comercio is distinctly to be recommended. The establishment is well above the average of those that the ordinary provincial town can boast, being clean, airy, and comfortable, and provided, moreover, with a very genial host.

Colonia Suiza is situated, some twenty miles inland from the coast, midway between Mercedes and Montevideo. In order to reach this very picturesque spot from the former town by rail it is necessary to hark back to Mal Abrigo, from which junction the run to the Swiss Colony is a short one. The country through which the journey is made is of the usual grazing order, sparsely populated, the ground being marked only here and there by a typical Uruguayan rancho.

The modest establishments of this particular district are worthy of special mention. Each is contrived from square blocks of turf, carefully cut, and placed one on top of the other with the grass edge downwards. The exterior of the walls is left without any attempt at facing or adornment, and thus presents a distinctly crude and peculiar appearance. The dwelling, however, is rendered snug and waterproof by being plastered from within. These walls are extremely well made, considering the fact that their composition is not assisted by any additional material. The roof is made of wood, cut in lengths, and thatched over with wood or straw.

Household removals on the Uruguayan campo are not necessarily matters of weighty thought, whose occurrence is to be anticipated with dread for many months beforehand. When the family who owns one of these mud ranches decides to move, the procedure is very simple. The roof, doors, and windows of the home are taken down and collected. After which it is merely necessary for the party to pack these along with them on horseback, until a suitable site is lit upon for a new erection of turf into which the portable finishing touches may be inserted. That effected, the owners are once more at home. As for the discarded dwelling, it remains much as before, save that it is minus roof, door, and windows.

Many of these skeleton huts are to be met with on the rolling face of the country. They possess this in common with birds' nests, that from a distance it is difficult to ascertain whether they are occupied or to let. If deserted, there is no reason why any chance family on the move should not take possession by no more formal means than that of affixing roof, door, and windows in the gaps that await them. Many of these ranchos, by the way, are surrounded by very pretty gardens, and hedged in by tall hedges of geranium and rose.

Once arrived at the Swiss Colony, however, the aspect of the dwellings becomes altogether changed. The houses here resemble strongly the chÂlets of the Swiss mountains, for, like the remaining colonies of the kind throughout the River Plate republics, the immigrants have introduced their own ways and fashions of living. Indeed, the existence of such bodies provides an ample testimonial of the conditions of freedom under which life is conducted in these countries.

The number and strange variety of these self-contained colonies in this part of the world is scarcely realised. They are, of course, totally distinct from the ordinary, scattered immigrant dwellers. When surveyed en masse the result is not a little extraordinary. In the three Spanish-speaking republics of Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay that, together with Southern Bolivia, formed the old River Plate provinces, exist distinct and important settlements of Swiss, Austrians, Poles, Australians, Welsh, Boers, and Jews, besides numerous lesser groups of many nationalities beyond.

Within the frontiers of each perfect liberty obtains to continue existence as it is led in the country from which the immigrants came, and thus each is provided with its own churches and institutions. In the case of the more recently founded it is almost as though a portion of the foreign land had been translated bodily to South American soil, while those of older standing have invariably yielded more or less to the influence of their surroundings. But the choice of remaining entirely aloof, or of assimilating the customs that prevail outside their own frontiers lies entirely in the hands of the immigrant communities. It is, of course, only natural that each section should carry on that particular branch of industry to which it has been accustomed in its country of origin.

The Colonia Suiza constitutes an important body, containing, as it does, no less than four thousand inhabitants. Here it is not surprising that the staple industry should be that of cheese manufacture and dairy produce. In addition to this a fair amount of agriculture is carried on. The soil of the district is well adapted to linseed, and numerous vineyards are responsible for the production of a local wine of very fair quality.

Consisting for the most part of small dairy farms, no regular township exists in the colony, although a small village has sprung into being in the neighbourhood of the railway station, and three hotels are distributed at wide intervals across the area occupied. The community, first established in 1862 by the arrival of seven Swiss families, is flourishing, and its members have clung to their national habits with more tenacity than is usual.

The largest and most important butter factory in the place produces in the springtime a daily quantity of no less than a ton of butter. Its proprietor, ere he emigrated, played the rÔle of a small shopkeeper in his own country. His house was burned to the ground, but, fortunately for himself, the property was insured. He employed the money derived from this source for the purpose of the voyage to South America, and, arrived at the Colonia Suiza, he found employment in the carrying round of the milk. In a very short while he was employing others to perform this service for himself, and is now a wealthy man, thus affording one more example of those rapid rises from poverty to riches that are so characteristic of South America.

The general aspects of this colony are peculiarly agreeable. Situated in one of the most pleasant districts of a smiling land, it is well watered and timbered. The verdure of the place, moreover, is enhanced by the numerous green lanes that intersect it. Indeed, no more delightful situation could be imagined than that occupied by many of the chÂlets of Swiss design.