The Purple Land

of clear water and a taste of green herbage. I also called during the day at three or four estancia houses, but failed to hear anything that could be advantag

s a calm, sunshiny afternoon, peace and quiet resting on everything, even bird and insect, for they were silent, or uttered only soft, subdued notes; and that modest lodge, with its rough stone walls and thatched roof, seemed to be in harmony with it all. It looked like t

rsts upon you like the sudden south-west wind called pampero, almost knocking the breath out of your body, then passing as suddenly away, leaving you with hair ruffled up and mouth full of dust. Its influence was more like that of the spring wind, which blows softly, scarcely fanning your cheek, yet infusing through all your system a delicious, magical sensation like-like nothing else in earth or heaven. She was, I fancy, about fourteen years old, slender and graceful in figure, and with a marvellously clear white skin, on which this bright Oriental sun had not painted

orse, I came

," I said, "and can

rom their perch and transferred them to her hands. Then she kissed the

get a remark out he began eagerly assenting to it. There, too, I met the girl's mother, who was not at all like her beautiful daughter, but had black hair and eyes, and a brown skin, as most Spanish-American women have.

perienced elsewhere. It was not the common hospitality usually shown to a stranger, but a natural, unstrained kindness, such

man was, however, quite as sweet-tempered as the others, for he came in, sat down, and joined in the conversation, just as if I had been one of the family whom he had expected to find there. While I talked to these good people on simple pastoral matters, all the wickedness of Orientals-the throat-cutting war of Whites and Reds, and

alled him Batata (sweet potato), looking critically at his pretty girl, remarked:

as Margarita, though wearing shoes, had no stockings on, while her dress-very clean, certainly-was a cotton print so faded that the pattern was quite undistinguishable. The only pretence of finery of any

e Anselmo this evening

ow what a craze she has for Anselmo: when he comes

! Here, doubtless, was the one spot on the wide earth where the golden age still lingered, appearing like the last beams of the setting sun touching some prominent spot,

ain lo

mad, the tug for

nd the cares t

e its li

in for ever with you under this roof, sharing your simple pleasures, and, wishing for nothing better, forget that great crowded world where all men are striving to c

from his horse before Margarita was at his side to ask the avuncular blessing, at the same time raising his hand to

at together in the social kitchen, sipping maté; I taking little part in the conversation, which was all about horses, scarcely even listening to what the others were saying. Reclining against the wall, I occupied myself agreeably watching the sweet face of Margarita, which in her happy excitement had become suffused with a delicate rosy colour. I have always had a great love for the beautiful: sunsets, wild flowers, especially verbenas, so prettily called margaritas in this country; and beyond everything the rainbow spanning the vast gloomy heavens, with

ce more asking her uncle's blessing. After her departure from the kitchen, finding that the inexhaustib