MENDOZA.

THE town of Mendoza is situated at the foot of the Andes, and the country around it is irrigated by cuts from the Rio de Mendoza. This river bounds the west side of the town, and from it, on the east side, there is a cut or canal about six feet wide, containing as much water as would turn a large mill. This stream supplies the town with water, and at the same time adorns and refreshes the Alameda or public walk. It waters the streets which descend with it to the river, and it can also be conducted into those which are at right angles.

Mendoza is a neat small town, built upon the usual South American plan. The streets are all at right angles: there is a plaza or square, on one side of which there is a large church, and several other churches and convents are scattered over the town. The houses are only one story high, and all the principal ones have a porte-cochère, which enters a small court, round the four sides of which the building extends.

The houses are built of mud, and are roofed with the same. The walls are white-washed, which gives them a neat appearance; but the insides of the houses, until they are white-washed, look like an English barn. The walls are of course very soft; occasionally a large piece of them comes off, and they are of that consistency, that, in a very few moments, a person, either with a spade or a pick-axe, could cut his way through any wall in the town. Some of the principal houses have glass in the windowsashes, but the greatest number have not. The houses are almost all little shops, and the goods displayed are principally English

cottons.

The inhabitants are apparently a very quiet, respectable set of people. The Governor, who is an old man, has the appearance and manners of a gentleman: he has a large family of daughters, who are very pleasing-looking girls. The men are

dressed in blue or white jackets, without skirts. The women in the day are only seen sitting at their windows, in complete dishabille, but in the evening they come upon the Alameda, dressed with much taste, in evening dresses and low gowns, and completely in the costume of London or Paris. The manner in which all the people seem to associate together shows a great deal of good feeling and fellowship, and I certainly never saw less apparent jealousy in any place.

The people, however, are sadly indolent. A little after eleven o'clock in the morning, the shop-keepers make preparations for the siesta; they begin to yawn a little, and slowly to put back the articles which they have, during the morning, displayed on their tables. About a quarter before twelve they shut up the shops, the window-shutters throughout the town are closed, or nearly so, and no individual is to be seen until five and sometimes until six o'clock in the evening.

During this time I used generally to walk about the town to make a few observations. It was really singular to stand at the corner of the right-angle streets, and in every direction to find such perfect solitude in the middle of the capital of a province. The noise occasioned by walking was like the echo which is heard in pacing by oneself up the long aisle of a church or cathedral, and the scene reminded me of the deserted streets of Pompeii.

In passing some of the houses I often heard people snoring, and when the siesta was over, I was often much amused at seeing the people awaken; for there is infinitely more truth and pleasure in thus looking behind the scenes of private life, than in making formal observations on man when dressed and disguised for his public performance. The people generally lie on the ground or floor of the room, and the group is often amusing.

I saw, one day, an old man (one of the principal people in the town) fast asleep and happy. The old woman, his wife, was awake, and sitting up in easy dishabille scratching herself, while her daughter, a very pretty-looking girl of about seventeen, was also awake, but lying on her side kissing a cat.

In the evening the scene begins to revive. The shops are opened; a number of loads of grass are seen walking about the streets, for the horse that is carrying them is completely hid.

Behind the load a boy stands on the extremity of the back; and to mount and dismount he climbs up by the animal's tail. A few Gauchos are riding about, selling fruit; and a beggar on horseback is occasionally seen, with his hat in his hand, singing a psalm in a melancholy tone.

As soon as the sun has set, the Alameda is erowded with people, and the scene is very singular and interesting. The men are sitting at tables, either smoking cigars or eating ices, and the ladies are on the mud benches which are on both sides of the Alameda. This Alameda is a walk nearly a mile long, between two rows of tall poplars: on one side of it are the garden walls of the town, concealed by roses and shrubs, and on the other the stream of water which supplies the town.

It will hardly be credited that, while this Alameda is crowded with people, women of all ages, without clothes of any sort or kind, are bathing in great numbers in the stream which literally bounds the promenade. Shakspeare tells us, that "the chariest maid is prodigal enough if she unveil her beauties to the moon," but the ladies of Mendoza, not contented with this, appear even before the sun; and in the mornings and evenings they really bathe without any clothes in the Rio de Mendoza, the water of which is seldom up to their knees, the men and women all together; and certainly of all the scenes which in my life I have witnessed, I never beheld one so indescribable.

However, to return to the Alameda :-the walk is often illuminated in a very simple manner by paper lamps, which are cut into the shapes of stars, and are lighted by a single candle. There is generally a band of music playing, and at the end of the walk is a temple built of mud, which is very elegant in its form, and of which it may truly be said, "materiem superabat opus."

The few evenings I was at Mendoza, I always went as a complete stranger to this Alameda to eat ices, which, after the heat of the day, were exceedingly delightful and refreshing; and as I put spoonful after spoonful into my mouth, looking above me at the dark outline of the Cordillera, and listening to the thunder which I could sometimes hear rumbling along the bottoms of the ravines, and sometimes resounding from the tops of the mountains, I used always to acknowledge, that if a man

could but bear an indolent life, there can be no spot on earth where he might be more indolent and more independent than at Mendoza; for he might sleep all day, and eat ices in the evening, until his hour-glass was out. Provisions are cheap, and the people who bring them quiet and civil: the climate is exhausting, and the whole population indolent-"Mais que voulezvous?" how can the people of Mendoza be otherwise? Their situation dooms them to inactivity;—they are bounded by the Andes and by the Pampas, and, with such formidable and relentless barriers around them, what have they to do with the history or the improvements, or the notions of the rest of the world? Their wants are few, and nature readily supplies them; the day is long, and therefore as soon as they have had their breakfasts, and have made a few arrangements for their supper, it is so very hot that they go to sleep; and what else could they do better?

THE PAMPAS.

RETURNED to the Fonda of Mendoza in the evening at ten o'clock, and found the two horses standing in the yard with nothing to eat, and a young Gaucho, who was to accompany me as postilion, lying on the ground asleep on his saddle. Next morning before daybreak, got up, saddled my horse, and with my saddle as my bed, and some pistols and money, commenced my gallop for Buenos Aires.

Country to be described :-delightful feeling of independence at the mode of travelling-air frosty and ground hard.-The sun rose, and shortly after got to the first post.-Had a letter for the lady from her husband who was at Mendoza-went to give it to her, while the Gaucho, who was to accompany me, was driving the horses into the corrál-found the lady in bed.—"Siente se, Señor," said she, pointing to an old chair which was at the head of the bed-sat down, and told her the letter was from her husband-she placed it under her pillow, and then offered me some maté, but I had no time to wait for it, and started.

At third post from Mendoza, a post-master, who might be exhibited in England as a curious specimen of an indolent man, to every thing I said, he replied "Si"-it was but an aspiration, and he seemed never to have said any other word—I had twice passed his house, and it was always the same Si!

Galloped on with no stopping, but merely to change horses, until five o'clock in the evening-very tired indeed, but on coming to the post-hut, saw the horses in the corrál, and resolved to push on.-Started with a fresh horse, and a young Gaucho, who, singing as he went, galloped like the wind: the sun set, and it got so dark, that, for more than an hour, I expected every moment the boy would get away from me, as the road was rough, and through wood. At half-past seven, after having galloped a hundred and fifty-three miles, and been fourteen hours and a half