A Trip to Tucuman 261 



train began to move, there were waving handkerchiefs, 

 parting salutations, and in the eyes of a few of those who 

 were left behind there were tears, the cause of which it 

 was left to fancy to surmise. 



As the run from Buenos Aires to Tucuman of eleven 

 hundred and fifty-six kilometers, equivalent to seven 

 hundred and twelve miles, is scheduled to be made in a 

 little more than twenty-four hours, the motion of the 

 train was not laggard. We quickly passed through the 

 crowded yards of the terminal, made a short stop at 

 Belgrano, the fashionable northern suburb, and then 

 settled down to a steady gait of forty-five miles an 

 hour. The train was vestibuled, made up of four 

 sleeping-cars, a dining-car, a mail-car, and a baggage- 

 car. The cars were almost as large as those in use in 

 the United States, and precisely similar in their appoint- 

 ments to the wagon-lits in vogue on the International 

 Expresses in Europe. 



We glided by villas and gardens sloping toward the 

 river ; we slipped past the Junction leading to El Tigre ; 

 and then found ourselves out upon the wide pampas. 

 To the right in the distance a low fringe of willows 

 and poplars along the horizon indicated the bank of the 

 River Parana, which the railway more or less closely 

 parallels from Buenos Aires to Rosario. There are 

 four tracks on the road-bed between the two cities, and 

 the time made over this stretch was quicker than on any 

 other portion of our journey. The track is level, for 

 long distances straight, and very well laid, so that fast 

 running was in order. On either side of the track were 

 fields of grain, and expanses of pasture-land. The 

 country gave the impression of being carefully tilled. 

 The fields were neat, the fencing in good order. The 

 corn, or maize, which was just appearing above the 



