200 



JOURNEY ACROSS 



and are too inconsiderable to interrupt the uni- 

 form character of the Pampas. 



We soon gained a prospect of the post-hut 

 in which we were destined to pass the night. 

 It was situated in a low marshy place, sur- 

 rounded by what we magnified into a forest, 

 but which, in fact, was nothing but a wood of 

 short algarobas, ten or fifteen feet high, casting 

 scarcely more shade, in the evening sun, than 

 our guayaquil hats. We had pictured to our- 

 selves this place, when at a distance from it, as 

 a sort of paradise, with purling streams, arca- 

 dian bowers, shepherds and shepherdesses — 

 a sort of Utopian hotel — in which we should 

 enjoy, for at least one night, that happiness and 

 repose which our miserable lodgings had hitherto 

 denied us. Clouds of mosquitoes awoke us 

 from this dream ; and, not content with biting 

 us, they began to attack the horses. On remark- 



