his determinations so eloquently that the courier agreed to stand by him-they would run first, but if overtaken, fight to the last. This compact being made, Antonio, while on a full gallop, stretched out his hand to ratify it. It was not worth while to bring in the postillion, as he would leave them at the next stage. It was then proposed to include the Pole in the arrangement, but on consultation they concluded no dependence could be placed in him, and he was left out. Scrutinizing every moving object they could descry in the distance, they kept on at a swift pace until the evening shadows shut out every thing from view. They were still some nine or ten miles from San José de Moro, where they were to stop for the night, and as the darkness increased they became still more anxious, and listened for every sound. Plying whip and spur they passed over the ground rapidly, and about an hour after dark dashed into the town, which was garrisoned by some two hundred soldiers. The Pole had stood the day's ride better than they expected; and satifying their hunger on some beef hastily roasted on the embers, they spread their beds outside the door, and soon forgot both the Indians and their fatigue in the deep sleep of the weary man. At an early hour the next morning Antonio roused them from slumber, but still delayed setting out, as he wished to wait until the night patrol of cavalry returned, to ascertain if the Indians were about. Strain, however, prevailed on him to saddle up, and at early daylight, be fore the bugles of the garrison had sounded the réveille, they were galloping through the gates of the town. The air was cool, the horses fresh, and they pushed on at a furious pace, meeting no one except occasionally a lancer slowly returning from his post which he had occupied as vidette during the night. It was still comparatively early in the morning when they reached Portozuelo, twenty-one miles distant. A short distance of stony road, and then they crossed the boundary line of the province, and passed into Cordova, and fifteen miles farther on entered the little mud town of Achieas, where they breakfasted. It was here the American printer whom Strain had met at San Luis married his wife. The latter had the curiosity to visit the house, and as he sat on a seat in one corner of the room, and gazed round on the naked mud walls, mud floor, and dirty, scanty furniture, he could not but think what his Knickerbocker mother would say if she could see the hovel from which her son took his wife. During this afternoon as they galloped along it became evident that the Pole was giving out. He leaned over his horse's neck, groaning and swearing by turns, and at last, when they reached Rio Quarto at nine o'clock in the evening, having made a hundred miles, he was so completely knocked up that he could not dismount, and was lifted by Strain and the courier from the saddle. Flinging himself on the floor of the post-house, he gave a groan that sounded like the last effort of a dying man. Such was not his case, however, by any means, for the next 772 THE PAMPA COACH. moment he fell to cursing and swearing in all had an intimate friend, also an acquaintance, After he by that name near Rio Janeiro, he thought this the modern dialects of Europe. had exhausted his own and the French and gentleman might be one of them. Putting spurs other languages of expletives, he tried the En- to their horses, they broke from the steady gal glish, fetching in, whenever it appeared to give lop into a run, and at length, far away in the force to his denunciations, a Polish word. He distance, discerned a cloud of dust, the sure told the devil, over and over again, that he was precursor of the post-coach, with its four gallopBefore they met, however, Strain perfectly welcome to fly away with him to his ing horses. own dominions if he ever caught him riding caught a fall. His horse, stumbling in a hole, post again with a crazy courier and a hare- made such a desperate leap in recovering himbrained naval officer, neither of whom had the self to escape the cruel rowels which always His comfear of God or a proper respect for the com- follow a mishap of this kind, as to leave him fort and safety of their own limbs before their behind with his back to the earth. eyes. He kept it up all night, muttering and panions never slackened their speed, nor apparently noticed the accident. Luckily Strain groaning by turns. retained the long plaited thong of the bridle in his hand, and thus secured his horse. Not being hurt, and hoping Antonio had not noticed his sudden dismounting, he attempted to remount, but found the saddle was turned. By the time he had regirthed it, the swift riders were miles in advance, and it required severe riding to overtake them. A knowing smile from Antonio, and a sly remark upon his dirty apparel, showed that Strain was discovered. To be thrown from a horse on these plains is to confess to a neglected education. Strain and the courier were quite willing to During the day they met the Government The cloud of dust which, when first seen, was many miles distant, now approached. M. Guimares proved to be neither of Strain's friends, but they soon found they had many acquaintM. Guimares told him that ances in common. his friends had been very apprehensive for his safety on account of the Indians, and giving him an address, requested him to call and say that he had met him beyond the point of greatest danger. The pampa coach is a curiosity in its way. It is a perfect nondescript, and looks as if it might have been Noah's family carriage. The four horses which drew it were attached to it by large straps of green hide fastened in the saddle of the postillion. There were no reins or breast straps. Each horse was ridden by a postillion at a full gallop, which whirled the lumbering vehicle along with astonishing rapidity. This mode of traveling allows one to take along many comforts he can not carry on horseback; but it is not quite so rapid, and much more dangerous on account of the Indians, for the dust it raises can be seen for many miles, revealing its whereabouts. Travelers on horseback, when in the vicinity of Indians, avoid the dusty portions of the road, reining out on the plains. Besides it is far more expensive, for four postillions are required instead of one. After exchanging messages to friends, and taking a kindly leave, each started on his way. To the "Set fire to the plain!" of Antonio, Strain and his companions broke into a gallop, and were nearly a mile distant before the heavy postcoach was fairly under way. The uncoupled horses could not pull together, but each jumped as he was spurred by the postillion, expending his strength in every direction but the right one. The herds which they had encountered on the way now became more frequent, and often from a slight swell on the plain the eye could see nothing but swarms of cattle, till they seemed mere specks in the distance. Mile after mile they rode through these herds of cattle and horses, till they seemed innumerable. A Buenos Ayrean once told Strain that ten millions of hides had been exported from Buenos Ayres in one year. Knowing that the census of 1840 gave but fifteen millions in the whole United States, this statement seemed incredible; but after several days' experience in the provinces of Santa Fé and Buenos Ayres, and reflecting that the millions on millions he saw from the road were but a fraction of the vast number scattered over those immense pastures, he could easily believe it. In passing through this province they had to be more cautious, for it was the favorite roving ground of the Indians. At every point that gave an extended view the plain was scanned with an anxious eye to detect, if possible, among the moving millions of cattle and horses, a group of mounted men. At night they slept in a fortified house. This, like all the rest, was in the centre of a square, and surrounded by a ditch, along the inside of which was planted one, two, and sometimes three rows of cactus, whose thorny, thick leaves will turn a charge of horse like a line of bayonets. With axes and knives the Indians might make an opening through these, but they never dismount to remove any great obstacle. Their home is the back of a horse, and they do not long feel easy on the ground, especially when in the presence of an enemy. The square is approached by a drawbridge, while the house is pierced with loop holes, from which the inmates can fire on their | ter adapted for pasture; while the most eastern assailants. The remaining two days were passed without incident. The ox-teams, the ships of the pampas, became more numerous. These, especially those going west, are the especial objects of the Indians' attack, as they are then loaded with merchandise and such articles as they covet. The carts are constructed after the same general fashion as ours, except they are very rude, with little or no iron about them; the bands and tires being made of green hide, which, being put on wet, contracts, and becomes almost as hard and firm as iron. The roof is commonly made of straw or green hide, though sometimes of canvas. Six pairs are attached to each cart, the yokes all being fastened to the heads and horns. A long pole projects from the roof of the cart, at the end of which is a spike, to goad on the leading team, and a second, farther back, for the next team; while, with a hand goad, the driver urges on those nearer him. Twelve teams make a troop; and when it is remembered the drivers never grease their axles, one can imagine the deafening noise they make when in motion. The creaking may be heard for miles, and serves often as a guide to the Indians in their attacks upon them. The latter portion of the province of Buenos Ayres differs from the rest of the pampas in the natural product of the soil. In Mendoza low trees, shrubs, and a long coarse grass cover the plain. San Luis, Cordova, Santa Fé, and a portion of Buenos Ayres, produce a high grass bet portion yields clover and thistles. In the former provinces the aspect of the plain changes very little with the different seasons of the year, as the trees seldom lose their leaves, and the grass always preserves a dingy green; but here the changes are marvelous. No better description can be given of it than the following, by Sir Francis Head: "The first region, or that lying nearest the Atlantic," says Head, "varies with the four seasons of the year in a most remarkable manner. In winter the leaves of the thistles are large and luxuriant, and the whole surface of the country has the rough appearance of a turnip field. The clover in this season is extremely rich and strong; and the sight of the wild cattle grazing in full liberty on such pasture is very beautiful. In spring the clover has vanished, the leaves of the thistles have extended along the ground, and the country still looks like a rough crop of turnips. In less than a month the change is most extraordinary; the whole region becomes a luxuriant wood of enor mous thistles, which have suddenly shot up to the height of ten or eleven feet, and are all in full bloom. The road, or path, is hemmed in on both sides; the view is completely obstructed; not an animal is to be seen; and the stems of the thistles are so close to each other, and s strong, that, independent of the prickles with which they are armed, they form an impenetra ble barrier. The sudden growth of these plants is quite astonishing; and though it would be he not true to me? Had he not lifted me up out of the cold darkness of my former life into the sunshine of a love such as I had dreamed of with hopeless longing, but never thought to win? He, the young, the brave, the noble, could he die? Could he disappoint me-could he bereave me so? Who dared to say that he was dead-drowned on his homeward voyage? an unusual misfortune in military history, yet | turn speedily and take me with him to the it is really possible that an invading army, un- beautiful home of which he had told me. Was acquainted with this country, might be imprisoned by these thistles before they had time to escape from them. The summer is not over before the scene undergoes another rapid change. The thistles suddenly lose their sap and verdure, their heads droop, the leaves shrink and fade, the stems become black and dead, and they remain rattling with the breeze one against another until the violence of the pampero, or hurricane, levels them to the ground, whence they rapidly decompose and disappear; the clover rushes up, and the scene is again verdant." But the sound of weeping and the low lamentations went on. Friendly hands had lifted me from my chair and laid me on the sofawhat ailed me that I had no power to resist them? What was this torturing distress that The Indians of the pampas are a singular by its very intensity seemed to dull my brain race, and rove these vast plains as the pirate and to press my heart out of place? Was there does the sea. They are exceedingly handsome then no power in human love, no strength in and finely formed. They wear no covering for human will, that he could not live to see me either their heads or bodies. Entirely naked they once again? Was there no prescience in an scour the plains by day, and sleep unprotected idolatry like mine, that I had been all these on the earth by night. When they make a suc- days absorbed in delicious dreams of coming cessful descent on a neighborhood, they imme- joy, while he on whom all was centred, without diately butcher all the men and old and ugly whom they perished, was drifting about, the women. The young and pretty women are sport of ocean surges, or lying deep amidst the placed on horseback, and are compelled to trav-hidden wrecks and lost treasures of the pitiless el with great speed, being fed on mares' flesh on the way, until they reach the remote and secluded home of their captors, who immediately marry them. Handsome and kind, they soon win the attachment of their stolen brides, who, in the few instances where they have had an opportunity to escape, preferred to remain with their husbands and children. These Indians believe in a future state of happiness, where they will be always drunk and always hunting. Their marriage ceremony is a very simple one. The groom and bride, as soon as the sun sets, are made to lie down together with their heads toward the west; they are then covered with the skin of a horse, and left for the night. As soon as the sun rises at their feet they are considered married. MY ANGEL. DEAD! who was dead? I saw the letter with its black seal, and the mournful faces of our gathering friends; I heard my mother and sisters weeping; but my dulled brain refused to understand the cause of all this trouble. I sat quietly in my chair beside the table, as I had been sitting when a neighbor came in to bring the fatal tidings. Amidst all the confusion I was still and calm, conscious only of a slight feeling of weariness and impatience at the stupidity which could believe such a report. Some one laid a soft hand on my forehead, and looked wistfully into my eyes; another friend held a glass of water to my lips, and said, pitifully, "If she could only weep!" I put the water away with an apathetic glance. For what should I weep? Who was dead? Surely not George Elliott. He was my lover, almost my husband. The wedding garments were all prepared, and he had promised to re sea? There could not have been many minutes of this apathy. Our pastor lived near, and had come to us speedily when he heard the news, which had flown like lightning all over the village before it reached our dwelling. The first words that struck my ear distinctly were from his lips. He sat beside me and repeated, "Whatsoever the Lord pleased, that did he, in heaven and upon earth, in the seas, and in all deep places. God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Be merciful to me, O God, for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast." At this the great deep of my soul was broken up and the fountains of bitterness overflowed. My whole nature arose in rebellion against the hand which had stricken me, and in that rebellion I first admitted to myself that I had been stricken. Of the awful hours following I can not speak. None may tread the billows of that deep but those who have faith in One who is able to say even to this storm and to this sea, "Peace, be still!" Such faith I had not. I sank in the dark waters. All the waves and the billows rolled over me. I was very ill for many days, and slowly, reluctantly, I turned back from the gates of Death to take up again Life's heavy burden. For life was indeed a burden to me, not only because of grief but because of sin. A hand that should have aided me over the rough paths had long been busy in planting thorns there instead of roses. To those who have been equally unfortunate it is enough to say that there was one whose return to us each night was looked for with an unspoken dread, and too often the bloodshot eye, the unsteady step, and the ram |