Life in Patagonia. 



109 



«f' 



asrain, sittine- cross-leofo-ed on tlic floor, solemn as 

 a cacique, brown as old leather, and calling liimself 

 a wliite man ! Yet here he says he will remain, and 

 here amongst Cliristians he will die. Fool, why 



did he not escape 



twenty years ago, 

 or, having re- 

 mained so 

 long in the 

 desert, why 

 '\-^^mi'^ liHlHi^^^BlvmllKlilitl' lias he now 



' 1 '^^B '■r^^^t^ii^^'^B^^^^^^' come 



# ■ '^H^' ^^^X ''»'-^- ^. ^^Hm^' back 



w here 



he is 



uotwan- 



ted ! " 



Ven- 



Ma.Tl|t^ 



t u r 

 w a 



Damian's Wife. 



very unsym- 

 pathetic, and 

 appeared to have 

 no kindly feelings 

 left for his old companion- 

 in-arms, but I was touched 

 with the story I had 

 heard. There was something pathetic in the life of 

 that poor returned wanderer, an alien now to his 

 own fellow-townsmen, homeless amidst the pleasant 

 vineyards, poplar groves, and 'old stone houses 



