8 The Naturalist in La Plata. 
some time, as they stood gazing away over the plain 
in different directions, motionless and silent, like 
bronze men on strange horse-shaped pedestals of 
dark stone; so dark in their copper skins and long 
black hair, against the far-off ethereal sky, flushed 
with amber light; and at their feet, and all around, 
the cloud of white and faintly-blushing plumes. 
That farewell scene was printed very vividly on my 
memory, but cannot be shown to another, nor could 
it be even if a Ruskin’s pen or a Turner’s pencil 
were mine; for the flight of the sea-mew is not 
more impossible to us than the power to picture 
forth the image of Nature in our souls, when she 
reveals herself in one of those ‘* special moments” 
which have ‘‘special grace,’ and where her wild 
beauty has never been spoiled by man. 
At other hours and seasons the general aspect of 
the plain is monotonous, and in spite of the un- 
obstructed view, and the unfailing verdure and 
sunshine, somewhat melancholy, although never 
sombre: and doubtless the depressed and melan- 
choly feeling the pampa inspires in those who are 
unfamiliar with it is due in a great measure to the 
paucity of life, and to the profound silence. The 
_ wind, as may well be imagined on that extensive 
level area, is seldom at rest ; there, as in the forest, 
it is a “ bard of many breathings,”’ and the strings 
it breathes upon give out an endless variety of 
sorrowful sounds, from the sharp fitful sibilations 
of the dry wiry grasses on the barren places, to the 
long mysterious moans that swell and die in the tall 
polished rushes of the marsh. It is also curious to 
note that with a few exceptions the resident birds 
