Little booths for the sale of lottery tickets are erected in the
vestibules of some of the churches, and the Government, in this way,
repays the church.

The gambling passion is one of Argentina's greatest curses. Tickets
are bought by all, from the Senator down to the newsboy who ventures
his only dollar.

You meet the water-seller passing down the street with his barrel
cart, drawn by three or four horses with tinkling bells, dispensing
water to customers at five cents a pail. The poorer classes have no
other means of procuring this precious liquid. The water is kept in a
corner of the house in large sun-baked jars. A peculiarity of these
pots is that they are not made to stand alone, but have to be held up
by something.

At early morning and evening the milkman goes his rounds on
horseback. The milk he carries in six long, narrow cans, like
inverted sugar-loaves, three on each side of his raw-hide saddle, he
himself being perched between them on a sheepskin. In some cans he
carries pure cream, which the jolting of his horse soon converts into
butter. This he lifts out with his hands to any who care to buy.
After the addition of a little salt, and the subtraction of a little
buttermilk, this _manteca_ is excellent. After serving you he will
again mount his horse, but not until his hands have been well wiped
on its tail, which almost touches the ground. The other cans of the
_lechero_ contain a mixture known to him alone. I never analyzed it,
but have remarked a chalky substance in the bottom of my glass. He
does not profess to sell pure milk; that you can buy, but, of course,