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JOURNEY ACROSS 



handkerchief, I was obliged, as a choice of evils, 

 to sit (the glass at 70°) within a shed where a 

 fire was blazing to dress our supper ; and this, 

 too, in an atmosphere of smoke that almost put 

 my eyes out. Here, seated on a stool, I watched 

 the process of cookery, until I was nearly as 

 completely roasted as the beef itself. The group 

 about the fire would have suited the pencil of 

 a Teniers or Wilkie. The officer in his dusty 

 uniform, his filthy friend the dragoon servant, 

 the post-master, ourselves, a cat, a dog, and a 

 company of fowls with their heads under their 

 wings, and three naked children, had all collected 

 round the old witch and her fire. The men 

 were talking of the Indians— an all absorbing 

 topic with the unfortunate gauchos. They had 

 been seen the day before, on the road we were 

 to pursue next morning, and the alarm had 

 spread far and wide over the country. This 



