The Amazing Argentine Part 11

Though the capabilities of Argentina in wheat growing have been known for centuries, and have not recently come in the nature of a revelation as may be said in regard to Canada, the reason the boom has been so long delayed has been because the country was in the throes of revolution, thereby frightening off foreign capital, and because of the lack of transport. But revolutions can now be described as things of the past, and for its population Argentina has the longest mileage of railways in the world. The day is not far distant when Argentina will produce 10,000,000 tons of wheat a year. Remarkable and gratifying, from a trader's point of view, though her increase of exports are, the figures are not so satisfying from a national standpoint. Her increase of population, big though it is, is by no means keeping pace with her increase in productivity.

Notwithstanding the spread of agricultural education, I must say that full value is not got out of the land. Much of the farming is slovenly.

This is partly due to race, but chiefly because the farmers are not owners, but only occupiers in return for giving a proportion of the crop to the owner. Further, if there is an unsatisfactory season the colonists neglect the land, take their departure, and try their luck elsewhere. The Argentines are conscious of the difficulties, and, as I have indicated, the remedy will probably be found by the State purchasing great estates, cutting them into small farms, and letting the colonists become the owners on easy terms. In alluding to the immigration in a former chapter I mentioned that a number of Italians and Spaniards return to their own countries. The migrated Latin always finds the old country pulling at his heart-strings--a feeling, however, which completely disappears in succeeding generations. But the immigrants who go to Argentina to make money rather than to settle are inclined to be reckless concerning care for the soil. The rough-and-ready, haphazard, careless farming is, of course, understandable in a new and fertile country. Only the pa.s.sage of years and closer settlement, and therefore more careful culture, will tend to put things right.

The average production of wheat in Argentina is only 11.3 bushels per acre, which is about the same as Australia. Canada does better than that, for Manitoba can give 13-1/2 bushels to the acre and Saskatchewan 17 bushels. In England the yield to-day is 30 bushels. Germany has the same return, whilst Roumania has 23 bushels and France 20 bushels to the acre. There is not the slightest doubt that with improved conditions of cultivation Argentina can do much better than she is doing. The United Kingdom is now purchasing over 30,000,000 worth of foodstuffs a year from the Argentine. Indeed, the Republic supplies us with a quarter of the food we purchase from abroad. In cereals alone we purchased in 1912 from Argentina 619,000 tons of wheat, 592,000 tons of maize, 60,000 tons of linseed and 383,000 tons of oats.

Mr. C. P. Ogilvie, one of the most astute authorities on the development of Argentina, and whom I had the pleasure of meeting in Buenos Aires, has demonstrated how the growing of alfalfa is useful for resting the land after crops of wheat, maize, etc. I have already told of the way this sanfoin plant has the property of attaching to itself micro-organisms which draw the nitrogen in the air and make it available for plant food. Every colonist knows the value of alfalfa for feeding his cattle, says Mr. Ogilvie, but it is not every colonist who knows why this plant occupies such a high place amongst feeding stuffs. Alfalfa is easily grown, very strong when established, and, provided its roots can get to water, will go on growing for years. The _raison d'etre_ for growing alfalfa is the feeding of cattle and preparing them for market, and for this purpose a league of alfalfa (6,177 acres metric measurement) will carry on an average 3,500 head. When grown for dry fodder it produces three or four crops per annum, and a fair yield is from six to eight tons per acre of dry alfalfa for each year. A ton of such hay is worth about twenty to thirty dollars, and, after deducting expenses, there is a clear return of about fourteen dollars per acre.

The figures supplied by one large company show that on an average cattle, when placed upon alfalfa lands, improve in value at the rate of two dollars per head per month, so it is easy to place a value upon its feeding properties.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CONVEYING ALFALFA TO A RAILWAY STATION.]

Thus, Mr. Ogilvie proceeds, we will take a camp under alfalfa capable of carrying 10,000 head of cattle all the year round, where, as the fattened animals are sold off, an equal number is bought to replace them. Such a camp would bring in a clear profit of 200,000 dollars sterling. An animal that has been kept all its life on a rough camp, and when too old for breeding is placed for the first time on alfalfa lands, fattens extremely quickly, and the meat is tender and in quality compares favourably with any other beef. No business in Argentina of the same importance has shown such good returns as cattle breeding, and these results have been chiefly brought about by the introduction of alfalfa, and a knowledge of the life history of alfalfa is of the greatest importance to the cattle farmer. All cereal crops take from the soil mineral matter and nitrogen. Therefore, after continuous cropping, the land becomes exhausted, and generally poorer. Experience has taught us that rotation of crops is a necessity to alleviate the strain on the soil.... If soils were composed of nothing but pure silica sand, nothing would ever grow; but in Nature we find that soils contain all sorts of mineral matter, and chief among these is lime. Alfalfa thrives on land which contains lime, and gives but poor results where this ingredient is deficient. The explanation is simple. There is a community of interest between the very low microscopic animal life known as bacteria and plant life generally. In every ounce of soil there are millions of these living germs, which have their allotted work to do, and they thrive best in soils containing lime. If one takes up with great care a root of alfalfa, and care is taken in exposing the root, some small nodules attached to the fine hair-like roots are easily distinguished by the naked eye, and these nodules are the home of a teeming microscopic industrious population, who perform their allotted work with the silent persistent energy so often displayed in Nature. Men of science have been able to identify at least three cla.s.ses of these bacteria, and to ascertain the work accomplished by each. The reason for their existence would seem to be that one cla.s.s is able to convert the nitrogen in the air into ammonia, whilst others work it into nitrate, and the third cla.s.s so manipulate it as to form a nitrate which is capable of being used for plant food. Now, although one ton of alfalfa removes from the soil 50 lb. of nitrogen, yet that crop leaves the soil richer in nitrogen, because the alfalfa has encouraged the multiplication of those factories which convert some of the thousands of tons of nitrogen floating above the earth into substance suitable for food for plant life. As a dry fodder for cattle, three tons of alfalfa has as much nutrition as two tons of wheat.

The cost of growing alfalfa depends largely on the situation of the land, and whether labour is plentiful. But, says Mr. Ogilvie, we will imagine the intrinsic value of the undeveloped land to be 4,000, upon which, under existing conditions, it would be possible to keep 1,000 head of animals, whereas if this same land were under alfalfa 3,000 to 3,500 animals could be fattened thereon, and the land would have increased in value to 20,000 or 30,000. To improve the undeveloped land it must be worked, and the plan usually adopted is to let the land to colonists who have had experience in the cla.s.s of work. Colonists usually undertake to cultivate 500 to 600 acres. They pay to the landlord anything from 10 per cent. to 30 per cent. of the crops, according to distance of the land from the railway. The first crop grown on fresh broken soil is generally maize. The second year's crop linseed, and probably a third year's crop of wheat is grown before handing back the land to the owner, ready to be put down in alfalfa. Sometimes the alfalfa is sown with the colonist's last crop, the landlord finding the alfalfa seed. After the completion of the contract the colonist moves to another part. The owner, who has annually received a percentage of the crops, takes back his land. Fences now will necessitate a considerable outlay, also wells and buildings. The more of these the better, as the land will carry a larger head of cattle, and the camp being properly divided makes the control of the cattle easy.[C]

[C] Extracted from "Argentina from a British Point of View," by C. P. Ogilvie (1910).

Allowing for the disadvantages--stretches of drought, pests of locusts--I know of no new country balancing one thing with another, where the future is so bright. Given a good year, an Argentine farmer makes 30 per cent. on his invested capital. He thinks he is doing fairly well if he gets 20 per cent. He grumbles if his return is only 10 per cent. He can afford to have one bad year in three--I believe the average works out one in five--and yet be doing very well compared with farmers in some other parts of the world.

CHAPTER XVI

MENDOZA

If I were called upon to make my personal choice in which part of the Republic I would like to live, I would choose Mendoza--or at any rate some part of Mendoza province. It lies far west, within the shadow of the snow-crowned Andes. The glacier-fed rivers from the mountains are making it one of the biggest vineyards in the world. The city is several thousand feet above sea level, and the air is clear and invigorating.

Like most Spanish-Argentine towns, it has a long history, but its tale of abounding progress does not stretch beyond the last seven or eight years. There are over a quarter of a million people in the province, and the capital numbers nearly 70,000 of them.

It is the old story of "Go west, my son." Whenever I fell into praise about places in the east, or in the middle parts of the country, there was generally somebody at my elbow to whisper, "Ah, but wait till you get to Mendoza."

Hardened traveller though I am, I admit a little thrill of antic.i.p.ation when, after a hot and rather dusty day in the railway cars, I first caught a glimpse of the gleaming Cordillera, and then ran long miles through flouris.h.i.+ng vineyards. So right into the heart of the town of luxuriant avenues, through the main street it seemed, with tall poplar trees on either side, and beyond the cool road rows of picturesque but modest houses, white washed, blue washed, pink washed, and even with a touch of quaintness about the houses that seemed to be neglected. Thus I made acquaintance with a city of broad boulevards and fine squares, an extensive park, and announcing its prosperity to all who pa.s.s that way and have eyes to see.

But whilst there is much to be enthusiastic about, it is well not to let enthusiasm run away with one. There was nothing of the raw west about the people. The ladies were as well dressed as those you will see in the Rue de la Paix. Then I was reminded that every woman out here dresses as well as she knows how, even though she and her family live spa.r.s.ely at home. People judge their fellows by appearance, by show, and everyone feels it a duty to be ostentatious. Next I was impressed with the extraordinary number of motor-cars. "Yes," remarked my Mendoza-English friend, "but I think there is only half the number now that there were a couple of years ago. You had to own a motor-car, or you were not considered worth knowing. We had nearly three hundred motor-cars, the best the United States or France could supply, and their value ran into millions of dollars. People had them with little prospect of paying for them. But then, everybody is optimistic, expecting a pot of money to be coming along soon. There is lots of money, but some folks did not get what they expected, and so a great many of the cars have been seized for debt."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE ENTRANCE TO THE PARK AT MENDOZA.]

We were making a little tour in a car. Most of the houses are single-storied as a provision against earthquakes, which are not infrequent in these parts. Indeed, one morning during my stay, whilst I was shaving, there was a quiver and a jolt which I thought was due to some heavily laden train pa.s.sing. At breakfast I learnt there had been a respectable earthquake. Everybody tells you about the great earthquake of 1861, which completely destroyed old Mendoza. The only remaining evidences are the ruins of the cathedral. The population of the city at that time was 20,000, and I was told that half the population was killed. Then there was the agony of fire, and--with horror piled on horror, as those were lawless days--bands of miscreants began plundering and murdering the affrighted inhabitants who remained. Tremors are now frequent, and the prospect of another earthquake is like an abiding nightmare. That is why the streets are so wide, the houses nearly all of a single story, and made of a particularly light brick with a considerable admixture of cane amongst the clay, so that the structure has a springiness and does not crack when the shake comes. Really the only big and substantial buildings are the Legislature and the Palace of Justice, and they are imposing.

Mendoza continually reminded me of Salt Lake City. Like the capital of the Mormon faith, it is in the lee of a mighty mountain range; there are trees bordering most of the streets, and along the main ways are innumerable rivulets. Boys are constantly employed to souse the road with water and so keep it cool. The entrance to Western Park has exquisite bronze gates. It is rather surprising, however, to see they are mounted with imperial crowns. The explanation is that they were originally made for Abdul Hamid, the deposed Sultan of Turkey. Owing to political upheaval in Turkey they were never delivered, because there was no one prepared to pay for them. Mendoza made a bid and bought them for 5,000. Broad roads through this lovely domain, leading through avenues of trees and past radiant flower gardens, make the Western Park beloved of Mendozians. There is a band-stand; and on Thursday evenings, the whole place flas.h.i.+ng with electric light, the road is blocked with automobiles and carriages, and thousands of people listening to the music. There is a rustic chalet where people can sit and have refreshment. There is a lake nearly a mile long. Here take place boating races, and for the accommodation of the spectators there is a grand stand which can hold 3,000 persons. There is a zoological garden. There is what is called "The Lilliputian Railway," so that a tiny little train starting from a miniature station can take pa.s.sengers all over the extensive park, through tropical vegetation, up tiny valleys, diving through small tunnels, giving anybody who cannot provide a private carriage an easy and cheap means of seeing the park.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PROMENADE IN MENDOZA PARK.]

Mendoza occupies a prominent place amongst the cities of Argentina. It is a magnet of attraction, especially to Italians who have experience in wine making; and now every year the province receives something over fifteen thousand immigrants. Some freshly developed countries have a law that no immigrant shall enter under "contract," that no man shall (without special permission) be allowed to land if he has a job and a definite wage awaiting him. There is no such regulation in Argentina.

There is an Immigration Law under which fresh arrivals are housed and fed by the Government, and work found for them. But less than half come within the operation of the law. About 150,000 fresh arrivals every year come out to situations, or have sufficient money to look after their own interests, and naturally many of these strike far west to Mendoza.

As I have intimated in an earlier chapter, the Federal Government has occasionally a little difficulty owing to the independent spirit of provinces like Mendoza. Mendoza, for instance, has its own paper money, so that whilst the Federal dollars are acceptable in the province, the Mendozian dollars are not currency beyond its own borders. It has all the modern equipment of government: a House of Senators and a House of Deputies. Each eight thousand inhabitants are ent.i.tled to a deputy, and each department or county returns one senator. The trouble of some democratic lands, strikes, are prohibited, and if attempted the soldiers are called out. The Governor is elected for four years. Voting is obligatory, and if a man will not vote he is put in prison. The State has full legal equipment in one supreme court, two courts of appeal, and two criminal courts. Whilst there is a public prosecutor there is a State lawyer, whose business it is to defend the poor, and another to defend minors when they come within reach of the arm of the law. Taxes are not high. There is a considerable amount of Government land, and this is sold in order to raise money for public works. Of course, there is the usual boom in land values. In 1909 the estimated value of property in the province (vineyards, orchards, cultivated and uncultivated land, and buildings) was a little over 50,000,000. Up to July 31st, 1913, property had increased in value to well over 70,000,000. This is creditable for a population of 260,000.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GRAPE HARVEST IN THE SUBURBS OF MENDOZA.]

In no other province in the Republic has there been so much land sold as in Mendoza. From 1909 to 1912 inclusive transactions in land represented a turnover of 37,000,000. In the neighbourhood of Mendoza City land is as dear as close to Buenos Aires, rising to 2 a metre (3.28 feet). In 1909 193,061 hectares (hectare = 2.47 acres) was under cultivation. Now there are 330,000 hectares. Development is not restricted to the neighbourhood of the provincial capital. Take San Juan, in the north, an old town which jogged along with viticulture till ten years ago, when it made a bound, and progress in growing grapes has been considerable. Some six hours by rail south-east of Mendoza is San Rafael. Twenty-five years ago the only flouris.h.i.+ng product was the Indian; and you could have bought quant.i.ties of land at twopence a hectare. To-day ordinary uncultivated land with water rights is worth from 140 to 160 per hectare. Cultivated vineyards are worth from 600 to 650 per hectare, according to cla.s.s. Till 1903 San Rafael had no railway connection with anywhere. The journey to Mendoza, which is now done in half a dozen hours by train, then took eight days by cart. Railway building has facilitated the development of the San Rafael district, which is just at the doorway of its prosperity. The San Rafael grape has a richer colour and more sugar than the Mendoza grape. If I had a large sum to invest I think I would take my chances at San Rafael.

Now, whilst there is all this material progress, it was refres.h.i.+ng to note that care is given to other things than just money making. I have described the constant movement to beautify Mendoza. Education is carefully nurtured. In the province are (1913) two national high-grade colleges, two normal schools, twenty-five private schools, and one kindergarten. This kindergarten is, so far as my knowledge goes, unmatched in the world. It was not the size that impressed me, but the thought-out plans to provide everything to attract and stimulate the young intelligence. Beauty is the basis, not only in the schoolrooms but in the theatre and playgrounds. Whether it be a school, or a fire-station, or a penitentiary, expenditure is lavish in providing a handsome building. Of course ambition, rivalry, town conceit--the desire to show something better than another town can show--is behind much of the enterprise. But the result is there, and it is the fact that counts.

Primarily, this abounding fortune of Mendoza is due to its vineyards. I read in an official publication that the province has the finest soil in the Republic. That is incorrect; but it has a soil that is peculiarly adapted for vines, together with a climate and a situation which for viticulture could not be improved--though there is a fly in the ointment, of which more anon. Besides, the inhabitants have not had to grope their way in the growing of grapes and the making of wine, as has been the case in many instances in California and South Australia, good though some of the wines are, through the cultivators coming from lands where the grape industry is not natural. It may be fairly said that all the folk in the province engaged in viticulture are from the wine-growing regions of Italy and Spain. Further, wine has been made in this region for several hundreds of years, though in the absence of transport its consumption was purely local. Now it is drunk throughout the Republic.

Neither the Californians nor the Australians are a wine-drinking people.

Wine producers have to look to markets beyond the seas. Not so the Mendozians. The Argentines, being Latin, are a wine-drinking people.

Everybody drinks wine. The labourer on the railway has wine with his frugal lunch. It is not at all unusual for children to have watered wine with their meals. On the big emigrant s.h.i.+ps wine is included in the charge for fare and food.

Well, here is a wine-drinking population of 7,000,000 living next door to the vineyards. Therefore the market for wine is enormous. Great though the output is, it does not meet the demand. As a consequence scant justice, from a connoisseur's point of view, is done to the Argentine wine, for it never has an opportunity to mature. Again, the wine is cheap; and it would never suit the wealthy Argentines if they were seen drinking anything but expensive foreign wine. I did taste some wine with delightful bouquet, such as that of the Chateau Norton; but, as it is the crowd which drinks the wine, it cannot be said that the average quality of native produce is high. With such piled-up orders for quant.i.ty, growers have not bothered very much about quality. They told me that sometimes they have felt rather ashamed to send out wine sour with youth; yet the dealers must have it. More than once the railway companies have been congested with barrels ready to be taken east. There are millions of acres, as yet untouched, suitable for vines.

When one thinks of the people in South America, and of the prospective expansion of population, all wine-drinkers, one must conclude that the future of this land, amongst the foothills of the Andes, is very bright.

In the turn of time some rich Argentines will set the fas.h.i.+on of drinking the wine of their own country. That will call for the production of a better vintage, and then, very likely, Argentine wines will be introduced to the other markets of the world. As it is, fortunes are being rapidly made. Many of the vineyards are quite small. Two and a half acres (one hectare) will grow between three and four hundredweight of grapes, which can be looked after by one man, and ought, in an ordinary season, to yield an income of about 100. A family with a small holding of four or five hectares can live most comfortably. In 1913 the province produced 592,969,670 kilos (kilo = 2.20 lb.). Of this 399,517,099 litres of wine were elaborated (litre = 0.22 gallon).

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN A MENDOZA BODEGA.]

Now I have mentioned there is a fly in the ointment, and I should not be doing my duty if I failed to call attention to it. The soil is there, the climate is there, grapes are carefully acclimatised. But there must be water, and whether there will always be a sufficiency of this is a doubt which sometimes comes into the minds of men who glance ahead. The rainfall is not heavy. Various scientific experiments have been made to attract rain, but without much success. The princ.i.p.al supply is from the River Mendoza, fed by the melting of the snows in the mountains. At first the wine growers helped themselves to what water they desired. But as the industry developed, and as there was suitable land without water, irrigation ca.n.a.ls were introduced. Sometimes a man tapped water to which he was not ent.i.tled, and then there was trouble. As a consequence, the Government has boldly grappled with the problem of irrigation. I drove out about a dozen miles to inspect a weir which had been constructed across the Mendoza River. This holds back an immense quant.i.ty of water, and the supply is regulated by the weir gates. Irrigation channels zigzag across the country, and the cultivator pays a small sum for his supply. These works fertilise over a million acres of land. Irrigated land has bounced in value. Waterless land which could have been obtained for 1 a hectare now fetches twenty, or even thirty times as much. This has emboldened the Government into making contracts for several million dollars for the damming of smaller rivers, and providing further irrigation works. Still, there is much water which goes down the River Mendoza that is not used at all. I asked a man who has the right to speak as an authority how much country could be placed under viticulture if all the available water supply was nursed and utilised. He told me three times as much as at present. So, although there is a big difficulty ahead, it is so far distant that the average man of the present generation does not bother his head much about it.

There are just 873 bodegas in Mendoza, though 800 of them are comparatively small. I went over two of the biggest and found them equipped as well as the bodegas of Europe. Some of the vats hold tens of thousands of litres of wine. Modern vats are built of cement lined with gla.s.s, and one of them will hold over 100,000 litres. But what was annoying--it is exercised elsewhere--was the practice of giving a well-known name to a wine which it does not properly represent. There is nothing so delicate as the grape in being affected by soil. Similar vines, but grown on slightly dissimilar soil, produce a different quality of grape, and give quite a different flavour to the wine. So, generally speaking, the wine of Argentina has a different tone from that of France, Italy, or Spain. The vintners endeavour by blending to produce a European type, a hock, a moselle, a burgundy, a medoc, a bordeaux, even a champagne--which, though good wines, are not always good imitations of something else. It would be much better if they cla.s.sified and t.i.tled their own wines. The European plan of one type of wine being produced in one particular district is ignored. Therefore you will find the big bodega producing from grapes grown in one vineyard a dozen brands which originated in France, Germany, Spain, Italy, and Portugal.

It might be thought that in Mendoza, where wine is the cheapest beverage procurable except water, there would be drunkenness. Not at all. Perhaps the case of the people is like that of the girls in confectionery shops; there are so many sweets about they never think of making themselves ill. Now and then, however, there is a relapse. But a Mendozian "drunk"

is not fined and sent to prison. Armed with a pail, he has to give two or three days to getting water out of the rivulets which run down the sides of the main streets, and sprinkling the dusty road with it. This is work usually given to boys. So when you see a disgruntled man engaged at it you will be quite right in coming to the conclusion he has been imbibing, and the authorities have put him to this job to disgrace him.

I have dealt rather fully with the wine-making business because it is the chief source of the Province of Mendoza's prosperity. But it is a happy country for other kinds of fruit, particularly the peach. Also there are oranges, figs, quinces, nectarines, and cherries. Several fruit canning concerns, turning out many thousand tins of fruit a day, have sprung into existence and are doing well. Abundance of fruit has been rather a cause of neglect in rearing, so that I do not place the quality too high. For instance, the oranges are not within measurable distance of the splendid oranges which New South Wales grows.

Improvement will a.s.suredly come in time. As it is, the fruit season in Argentina is when it is raw winter in Europe; and, as transport is quickening, possibilities of an extended market are great. Sometimes I hear young Englishmen, discontented with home, say they would like to go to America and start fruit farming. They might inquire into the prospects of Mendoza.

CHAPTER XVII

A TRIP INTO THE ANDES

It was intended to be a jolly party. We were going to Puerta del Inca and to make a picnic of it. There was the Englishman, born in Australia, trained in the United States and now an engineering expert in Argentina.

He was the biggest man I met in the Republic, and his friends called him "Chico," which means the little one. There was the Scot, grizzled and cautious, who disappeared for months and was away exploring the unknown mountains up in the snows, carrying his camp with him, never seeing anybody with whom he could converse, coming back with maps of possible new routes over the frozen shoulders of the Andes, and who loved long hours in the English Club in Mendoza, expressing Carlylean views about the world, quoting poetry and enjoying long games at cards. There was the man who came out here from England many years ago to help in the building of the Transandine railway, married a Spanish wife, has taken to vine growing, and knows he now speaks his native tongue with a foreign accent. There were others, men who had knocked about the world and had done things; men with none of the light talk of stay-at-home Englishmen, but showing strong character kneaded by rough circ.u.mstances.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "CHICO" IN CHARGE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CORNER OF THE ENGLISH CLUB AT MENDOZA.]

The trip was arranged amongst the orange trees which grow in the little courtyard of the English Club. It was when the night was warm and we stretched in easy chairs, puffing smoke rings at the moon. "Chico" was master of ceremonies. What he arranged was to be right. And we were to be ready early the next morning, for a special coach was to be fastened to the express coming through from Buenos Aires on its way to Valparaiso.

The early morning air was crisp and invigorating. The transcontinental train had just come in, and whilst the early birds were out on the platform, half-drawn blinds revealed the drowsy countenances of other travellers who had no disposition for a peep at Mendoza, or who had seen it before and lacked ambition to see it again. There was the usual jostling on the platform of folk who had just arrived and those who were taking their departure, joyous greetings, and sad farewells. The stranger had to stand on one side and smile at the way Argentine men held one another by one arm half round the neck, and with the other hand gave continuous slaps in the small of the back. Yesterday morning's papers from Buenos Aires had arrived, and there was a scramble round the bookstall whilst the slow-moving newsboy undid the strings and we could buy our newspapers, and were able to read what the Prime Minister of England had been saying the day before yesterday.

"Chico," with hat stuck on the back of his head, hastened up to our group with the intimation that we had better get on board if it was not our intention to be left behind. "Have you got plenty of food," was the inquiry, "for we are as hungry as hunters?" "Yes, plenty," was the answer. "And drink?" "And the drink." "You have not forgotten the cigars?" "No, the cigars are all right."