house, and we used to carry up a number of planks to construct safe
bridges from branch to branch, and at noon, when our elders were
sleeping their siesta, we would have our arboreal games unmolested.

Besides the famous twenty-five, there was one other tree of a
different species, growing close to the house, and this was known all
over the neighbourhood as "The Tree," this proud name having been
bestowed on it because it was the only one of the kind known in that
part of the country; our native neighbours always affirmed that it was
the only one in the world. It was a fine large old tree, with a white
bark, long smooth white thorns, and dark-green undeciduous foliage.
Its blossoming time was in November--a month about as hot as an
English July--and it would then become covered with tassels of minute
wax-like flowers, pale straw-colour, and of a wonderful fragrance,
which the soft summer wind would carry for miles on its wings. And in
this way our neighbours would discover that the flowering season had
come to the tree they so much admired, and they would come to beg for
a branch to take home with them to perfume their lowly houses.

The pampas are, in most places, level as a billiard-table; just where
we lived, however, the country happened to be undulating, and our
house stood on the summit of one of the highest elevations. Before the
house stretched a great grassy plain, level to the horizon, while at
the back it sloped abruptly down to a broad, deep stream, which
emptied itself in the river Plata, about six miles to the east. This
stream, with its three ancient red willow-trees growing on the banks,
was a source of endless pleasure to us. Whenever we went down to play
on the banks, the fresh penetrating scent of the moist earth had a
strangely exhilarating effect, making us wild with joy. I am able now
to recall these sensations, and believe that the sense of smell, which