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J. A. Hammerton. The real Argentine: Notes and Impressions of a Year in the Argentine and Uruguay
The real Argentine: Notes and Impressions of a Year in the Argentine and Uruguay
Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION
THE REAL ARGENTINE
CHAPTER I. FROM LONDON TO LISBON
CHAPTER II. OUR VOYAGE TO THE RIVER PLATE
CHAPTER III. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF BUENOS AYRES
CHAPTER IV. PICTURES OF STREET LIFE IN BUENOS AYRES
CHAPTER V. MORE SCENES FROM THE STREETS OF BUENOS AYRES
CHAPTER VI. WHAT WE THOUGHT OF THE WEATHER AND THE MOSQUITOES
CHAPTER VII. A SPLENDID CITY OF SHAM
CHAPTER VIII. SOME “PASEOS” IN AND ABOUT BUENOS AYRES
CHAPTER IX. MORE “PASEOS” IN BUENOS AYRES
CHAPTER X. HOW THE MONEY GOES
CHAPTER XI. SOME PHASES OF SOCIAL LIFE
CHAPTER XII. BUSINESS LIFE IN BUENOS AYRES
CHAPTER XIII. THE ARGENTINE AT HOME
CHAPTER XIV “THE BRITISH COLONY” AND ITS WAYS
CHAPTER XV. THE EMIGRANT IN LIGHT AND SHADE
CHAPTER XVI. LIFE IN THE “CAMP” AND THE PROVINCIAL TOWNS
CHAPTER XVII. THE SPIRIT OF THE COUNTRY
CHAPTER XVIII. THE LAND OF PAIN
CHAPTER XIX. TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW IN THE ARGENTINE
CHAPTER XX. OUR SUMMER IN MONTEVIDEO
CHAPTER XXI. URUGUAY: SOME NOTES AND IMPRESSIONS
CHAPTER XXII. FROM THE RIVER PLATE TO THE ANDES
Footnote
Отрывок из книги
J. A. Hammerton
Published by Good Press, 2021
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CHAPTER XXII FROM THE RIVER PLATE TO THE ANDES
Early on the sixth day out from St. Vincent, on going on deck before breakfast we were not a little surprised to find that we were steaming close to a long and narrow green island on which many signs of careful cultivation were evident. In a cove the white houses of a township showed clear and inviting in the morning air, the blue smoke curling from some of the chimneys giving one an intense pang of home hunger. With the binoculars it was easy to make out people going about their tasks in the fields, others walking towards what seemed to be a signalling station. The surprise at this sudden coming upon a bit of the habitated globe in what, for all we had supposed the night before, was still mid-ocean, sent us questioning to the officers of the ship. The island turned out to be Fernando de Noroña, notable chiefly as a Brazilian penal settlement. A Brazilian—the only one among our company—told me a story about Fernando de Noroña which, speaking in Spanish, he considered muy graciosa. An Englishman in Pernambuco killed a native in a quarrel and was sent to the penal isle, but in the course of a year or less he was granted his liberty, that being a matter of simple negotiation: a little influence and a modicum of money can always save a criminal in that happy clime. But, the Englishman, having long suffered a shrewish wife, found so much peace in prison that he refused to quit the island and there remains. Fernando de Noroña lies some two hundred miles off the north eastern shoulder of Brazil, and by that token we were soon to be touching at Pernambuco and hugging the Brazilian coast for the rest of our voyage.
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