ht on to the submerged
stonework, but fortunately got off again very quickly, without having
sustained any damage. On landing, we found ourselves opposite the
Custom House, a fine building, with which we afterwards made a closer
acquaintance.

There is a large and very good hotel here, l'Hotel Oriental. It is a
handsome building outside, and the interior is full of marble courts,
stone corridors, and lofty rooms, deliciously cool in the hottest
weather. Having procured a carriage, Tom and I and the children drove
through the streets, which are wide and handsome, though badly paved,
and so full of holes that it is a wonder how the springs of a carriage
can last a week. The houses seem built chiefly in the Italian style of
architecture, with fine stucco fronts, and in many cases marble floors
and facings, while the courtyards, seen through the grilles, blazed
with flowers. All the lower windows were strongly barred, a precaution
by no means unnecessary against the effects of the revolutions, which
are of such frequent occurrence in this country. To enable the
inhabitants the better to enjoy the sea-breeze, the tops of the houses
are all flat, which gives the town, from a distance, somewhat of an
eastern appearance. There are a great many Italian immigrants here,
and most of the building and plastering work is done by them.

The Paseo del Molino is the best part of the town, where all the rich
merchants reside in quintas, surrounded by pretty gardens. They are
very fantastic in their ideas of architectural style, and appear to
bestow their patronage impartially, not to say indiscriminately, upon
Gothic cathedrals, Alhambra palaces, Swiss cottages, Italian villas,
and Turkish mosques. Except for this variety, the suburb has somewhat
the appearance of the outskirts of many of the towns on the Riviera,
with the same sub-tropical surroundings. These are, however, hard
times on the River Plate, and more than half the quintas are deserted
and falling into ruins. On our way back, by the Union Road, we met a
great many of the native bullock-carts going home from market. These
huge conveyances are covered with hides, and are drawn by teams of
from two to twelve bullocks, yoked in pairs, and driven by a man on
horseback, who carries a sharp-pointed goad, with which he prods the
animals all round, at intervals. Dressed in a full white linen shirt
and trousers, with his bright poncho and curious saddle-gear, he forms
no unimportant