ead on one side and takes flies from one's fingers in the prettiest and
most enticing manner.

While the _Sunbeam_ was lying in the River Plate, Lady Brassey and her
party made an excursion to the Pampas, those broad, league-long
undulating plains of verdure, on which civilization as yet has made but
a limited advance.

"Miles and miles of gold and green
Where the sunflowers blow
In a solid glow,
And to break now and then the screen--
Black neck and eyeballs keen,
Up a wild horse leaps between."--(_R. Browning._)

According to Lady Brassey, the first glimpse of the far-spreading
prairie was most striking in all its variations of colour. The true
shade of the Pampas grass, when long, is a light dusty green; when
short, it is a bright fresh green. But it frequently happens that, owing
to the numerous prairie fires, either accidental or intentional, nothing
is visible but a vast expanse of black charred ground, here and there
relieved by a few patches of vivid green, where the grass is once more
springing up under the influence of the rain.

"The road, or rather track, was in a bad condition, owing to the recent
wet weather, and on each side of the five _canadas_, or small rivers,
which we had to ford, there were deep morasses, through which we had to
struggle as best we could, with the mud up to our axle-trees. Just
before arriving at the point where the stream had to be crossed, the
horses were well flogged and urged on at a gallop, which they gallantly
maintained until the other side was reached. Then we stopped to breathe
the horses and to repair damages, generally finding that a trace had
given way, or that some other part of the harness had shown signs of
weakness. On one occasion we were delayed for a considerable time by the
breaking of the splinter-bar, to repair which was a troublesome matter;
indeed, I don't know how we should have managed if we had not met a
native lad, who sold us his long lasso to bind the pieces together
again. It was a lucky _rencontre_ for us, as he was the only human being
we saw during the whole of our drive of thirty miles, except the peon
who brought us a change of horses half way.

"In the course of the journey we passed a large estancia, the road to
which was marked by the dead bodies and skeletons of the poor beasts who
had perished in the late droughts. Hundreds of them were lying about in
every stage of decay, those more recently dead bei