THE COCKNEY EQUESTRIAN. 59 criminal, unable to make the requisite sign to the finisher of the law; and at last Mr. Fair was obliged to lift up Mr. E.'s foot to the stirrup, and to help his body into the saddle as he best could. The chacarero was at the head of the horse, which stood immoveable during the operation. "Now tell him to stand where he is," said Mr. E., "I'm not ready yet, don't let him leave the horse's head,-don't let him move." We got the reins at last into our equestrian's hand, and the chacarero retired; but the moment he did so the former let go the reins and took hold of the horse's mane. The animal stood stock still; but Mr. E.'s fears were not the less for that. "Take me off!" he cried, "he's going to run away! See how he's looking at the barranca!" The farmer's wife could hereupon contain herself no longer, but holding her sides, she broke into uncontrollable laughter. Her mirth overthrew at once our long suffocated attempts at gravity; and so the honest chacarero, his plump and good-natured wife, Mr. Fair, and our two selves, stood round the horse and relieved ourselves of the pent-up laughter which for nearly an hour we had been keeping down. But our unseasonable hilarity only raised poor 60 THE COCKNEY EQUESTRIAN. 66 Mr. E.'s fears into an agony of terror. Don't laugh!" he exclaimed, most earnestly, "for God's sake, gentlemen, don't laugh! I'm sure you'll frighten the horse! Do you wish to see me dashed to pieces? Oh, for Heaven's sake, be quiet, and do, do, take me at once from this animal's back!" It was too clear that that was the only alternative left. The chair was again placed at the horse's side, the chacarero took its head, Mr. Fair gently drew Mr. E. from the saddle, who, being once more on his feet, was "Richard himself again!" Nothing could ruffle our friend's temper: with infinite good humour he allowed us to laugh and joke as we liked; he seriously believed he had escaped from a great danger, and he resumed his seat under the veranda with the utmost placidity, saying he knew from the first he was to dine and sleep at his worthy friend's, the chacarero's, house. When we asked him how he could possibly fancy there had been the slightest danger, he answered, that he had marked his eye (the horse's)—a wild eyeand he felt certain that the animal's intention, whenever he moved, was to rush down the precipice at which he was looking during the whole time of his standing at the door. BUENOS AYRES ROADS. 61 As we could not think of leaving Mr. E. alone, and in the hands of strangers, it was arranged that Mr. Fair should proceed to Buenos Ayres and order a coach, malgré the state of the roads, to carry us to the capital next day. Mr. Fair, who was as good a horseman as he was an indifferent sailor, mounted immediately and put spurs to a mettlesome animal, which, with a snort and a bound, set off at full speed, Mr. E. waving his hand and calling out, "bon whackey, bon whackey!" meaning thereby buen viage, or a pleasant journey to you. Aye," added he, as Fair disappeared from our 66 view," that is the way in which the wild animal which I mounted would have bounded down the barranca, had I once allowed him to set off with me." Of all the roads which disgrace the neighbourhood and environs of a large and flourishing capital, those which surround Buenos Ayres must take the lead. As far out as three leagues from the city, they present, during six months of the year, the most frightful barriers which the imagination can conceive, to any safe intercourse between town and country; and whenever any heavy rains fall during the other six months, the transit becomes equally difficult. They are neither drained, nor paved, nor raised, nor mended, by the public authorities. Turnpikes are unknown, and road trustees were never heard of. No faint echo of the immortal name of MacAdam ever reached the shores of La Plata; and when a century hence the increase of population and interior traffic shall have forced the worthy Argentines to mend their ways,-more properly, to make roads out of their capital into their rural districts, the famous lines on General Wade's roads in the Highlands will be, no doubt, applied to the South American Wade of the twentieth century— "Had you seen these roads before they were made, You would lift up your hands and bless General Wade." The roads are formed generally by parallel lines of ditches, here and there lined with tuna (prickly pear) and aloe hedges. These so called roads run. through a deep rich loam soil on the arable lands, and through marshes, with soft muddy bottom, on the low grounds. Not the slightest attempt at drainage is made, nor is there any elevation in the centre of the road from which the water could run off. It stagnates in deep ruts made by the immense bullock cart wheels; and these ruts being thus filled and softened with rains they are left to be retraversed by the same wheels, which sink deeper into the soil. Thus are formed a succession of those things celebrated in South American topography under the name of pantanos. They are holes, -now dry, now of soft mud,-anon of unyielding and sticky clay,-here forming a puddle of water, and there stretching out to a lake. They are of all depths and sizes; in one place just sufficient to catch your horse up to his knees,-in another deep enough to take him to his belly; here you may make one desperate plunge and get out of the pantano at once,-there you may flounder on for fifty, one hundred, two hundred yards,—every step you take threatening to carry you to some unknown abyss of darkness and of mud which is to swallow horse, rider, and all. Sometimes in despair you have to clamber over the deep soft ditch, at the imminent risk of your horse's legs and your own neck, into the field, in order to avoid some more terrible pantano than the rest, and then to find your way out of the field by some horrible gap which yawns between you and the road, in order to resume your pantano labours. Our readers must not fancy there is any exaggeration in this,-quite |