to settle there with the idea of making a fortune, he naturally turns
his attention to the value of the land, as from this he draws his views
of the prosperity of the country. Now, twenty-five years ago the
Argentine had comparatively very few railways; consequently, the lands
at any long distance from Buenos Aires (the capital) were at a very low
value. The province of Buenos Aires, the largest in the country, has
always been the most populated, and its lands have always commanded the
highest prices, and these have risen tremendously, but not so much of
late years in proportion as land in the northern provinces. During the
years 1885, 1886, 1887, and 1888, there was a great boom in land.
Foreigners were pouring in, bringing capital; great confidence was put
by foreign capitalists in the country, several railways had run out new
branches, new railways were built, new banks were opened, and a very
large extent of land was opened up and cultivated, and put under wheat
and linseed, harvests were good and money was flowing into the country.
Then came a very bad year, 1889; the harvest was practically lost owing
to the heavy and continuous rains which fell from December till July
with hardly a clear day. This, together with a bad government and the
revolution of 1890, created a great panic and a tremendous slump in all
land, from which it took a long time to recover. Where people had bought
camps and mortgaged them, which was the general thing to do in those
days, the mortgagees foreclosed, and, when the camps were auctioned
off, they did not fetch half what the properties had been bought for in
the first instance, some four or five years previously. This, naturally,
had a serious effect on the credit, soundness, and finances of the
country, but really, the crisis was not felt until some three or four
years after, and it was 1896 and 1897 which were very serious years for
the country.
To give one an idea of the value of land in four or five of the
principal provinces of the country, I must begin with the Queen
Province, as it is called, viz., Buenos Aires. In 1885, property in the
city centre was worth 2s. 6d. to 3s. 6d. a yard, whereas to-day it has
been sold up to £200 sterling per yard, while suburban lots of 20 yards
by 60 yards realised £5 and to-day are fetching £150, and camp lands
have risen from £10,000, to £100,000 the square league. Of course this
is within a radius of 30 to 50 leagues of the city; lands away to the
south and west may yet be bought at £10,000, and, still further south
towards Neuquen and the far Pampa, at £2,000 per square league. The
province of Buenos Aires is not considered good for alfalfa growing, but
has good natural grass camps.
The province of Santa Fé is a large province, extending from the
northern boundary of the province of Buenos Aires to Santiago del
Estero, and contains what is known as the Gran Chaco. The southern
portion of this province is largely dedicated to the production of
wheat, linseed, and maize, for which it is admirably adapted. There are
also large estancias carrying vast herds of cattle, sheep, and horses,
while the northern portion has vast forests of very fine and valuable
timber.
[Illustration: _Wheat ready for Loading at Station on Central Argentine
Railway._]
The first part of this province to be developed was the country around
Rosario, the large port on the River Parana, where ocean-going steamers
call. This, together with good railway accommodation in all directions
combined with excellent land in the district, facilitates the
cultivation of cereals on a very large scale. Property in Rosario itself
is very valuable, and from £30 to £50 a yard is a common figure. In the
immediate district of Rosario land is rarely sold in large areas, but
may be calculated at £20 an acre, whilst 40 leagues further north it is
to-day worth £50,000 a league. I know of one estancia of one league
which was bought in 1885 for £2,000, resold, after being sown down in
alfalfa and divided into paddocks, without further improvements, at
£12,000 (this was in 1903), and again sold in 1909, certainly with
further improvements as regards watering arrangements and more paddocks,
house, and sheds, etc., in fact, a fair model estancia in good working
order, for £60,000. Land on the south-west of Rosario, and about 40
leagues distant, has in the twenty-five years risen from £2,000 a league
to £40,000 a league. This is for virgin camp, and to-day in these
districts the average price can be stated at from £30,000 to £40,000 per
league, yet 300 miles further north land--good land--can be had at from
£4,000 to £6,000 per league.
The next province, Cordoba, is one of the most hilly in the country, and
has been one of the most developed during latter years. Some twenty
years ago this was almost considered a desert, where one was told
nothing would grow and cattle could not live. To-day it is one of the
most prosperous; wheat and linseed are great products here, while
alfalfa, when carefully treated, that is, not overstocked, lives for
ever on account of the sandy soil, and water being so near the surface.
These lands twenty years ago were valued at about £500 to £600 per
league, while to-day it is difficult to acquire land under cultivation
or alfalfa at less than £30,000 per league. In the Northern part of this
province are very valuable stone quarries.
Another province that is advancing very fast is that of San Luis. Here,
again, it has been found that alfalfa is at home, and thrives
splendidly. This, again, is a very sandy soil, and consequently is much
sought after, but this land has not yet touched the value of that in the
provinces already mentioned; it will not stand so much cropping, and
will not carry the same amount of stock, but still the average price for
virgin camp is from £5,000 to £10,000 per league. In this province there
is a very large extent of very poor land, covered with a small shrub,
which is not worth more than £2,000 a league.
Mendoza is a more northerly province, and mostly dedicated to the grape
and wine industry, while a lot of fruit is also exported from there.
Wine is made in very large quantities, and a lot of very good quality.
The value of land varies very much. The greater portion is worth at
present very little. The great point is to get the water concessions for
irrigating; without irrigation the land is useless. A good vineyard in
its prime, with good irrigation rights, is worth as much as from £40 to
£50 per acre, while the ordinary camp land is at about 7s. per acre.
[Illustration: _The Maker of Land Values._]
REMARKS ON STORMS AND THE CLIMATE OF THE ARGENTINE.
The Argentine Republic, like all hot countries, is subject to very great
hurricanes and storms. They occur most frequently in the spring and
summer, when very sudden changes of temperature take place. The
thermometer has often been known to drop 25 degrees within half an hour.
A great deal of damage is always caused, trees which have taken years of
care and trouble are ruthlessly uprooted, roofs blown off, windmills
blown down, haystacks turned over, and valuable animals struck by
lightning. The terrible closeness and stillness which generally precede
a "tormenta" are certain forerunners of bad weather and storms. A
terrible hailstorm which took place some time ago will always be
remembered by its spectators. The usual signs of it were evident; the
atmosphere had become very close and it had been extremely hot for some
hours before. Though only about 4 p.m., it got peculiarly dark and a
strong gale began to blow, and distant sounds of thunder were heard. A
sudden lull came, which meant that the storm was about to break; sheets
of lightning of every description were followed by deafening peals of
thunder, which made man and beast tremble. Then there came a downfall of
huge hailstones; they were just like big lumps of jagged ice; some of
them measured about six to eight inches round and weighed over half a
pound. This storm did a fearful lot of harm; not a leaf was left on a
single tree, and hundreds of birds lay dead all around. Though very
violent, this hailstorm did not last more than ten minutes, in which
time an incalculable amount of destruction took place.
In September, 1909, a very bad cyclone suddenly came on us. The sky
turned black and blacker, and the clouds looked horribly wicked.
Suddenly a terrific gale got up, which caused every window and door to
rattle in a most alarming manner, though they had all been as well
secured as possible. The dust seemed to filter in just the same, and in
five minutes the house was an inch thick in it. We heard a loud bang and
then another over our heads, and on looking out of a window we saw the
roof of one of the outer buildings lying on the ground; part of it had
been blown over our house and had carried away the chimney, a big iron
one, on its way. We were told afterwards that the cook had had to use
all her force against the kitchen window to keep it from bursting open,
as, if the wind had got in, it would have carried away that roof as
well. This hurricane lasted for about an hour and a-half; as soon as it
had abated somewhat we went out to see the result. Everywhere reigned
havoc and confusion, the whole place looked an old ruin, brick-bats,
tiles, broken branches, loose sheets of corrugated iron lying all
around; three roofs had been blown away, several windmills knocked down
and carried 100 yards away, and lovely old trees had been completely
uprooted.
The natives, frightened of remaining in their own quarters, had, in
their terror, deserted them and taken refuge, with their wives and
children, in the open camp, where they fondly imagined they were safer.
Out in the camp the roofs of most of the "puestos," or huts, had been
also carried away, leaving the occupants exposed to the cold rains and
winds which followed.
A peculiar feature of this storm was that it was not at all general; at
the neighbouring "estancias" it was not felt at all, and some of the
"peons," who were riding in the camp at the time, said they could see
this whirlwind coming a long way off at a tremendous rate and that it
looked like a column of red smoke; they could not feel the effects of
the wind either, although they were not more than half a mile away.
This storm was followed by very heavy rains which lasted for about ten
days, during which our house was flooded, as the wind had lifted the
tiles and the rain was driven in through every possible place.
Another time, when driving home from the town of Vernado Tuerto, we were
caught in a very bad dust storm. Things became so black that we could
not see where we were going, so we had to halt. The wind was so strong
that the men had to get out of the carriage, which was a heavy
covered-in waggonette, and hold the wheels down to prevent it from being
overturned. We all looked like seaside niggers, as the dust and rain
falling at once came down like mud on us all. One gets quite hardened to
these severe storms. On one occasion a very rough wind began to blow,
but, as it was a steady gale, no one took particular notice of it. It
was after dinner, and everybody was busy playing cards. The wind made
such a deafening noise that you could hardly hear yourself speak;
presently some of the occupants of the house thought they would have a
look outside to see if things were all right; when they were surprised
to see an outer building, used for stores and machinery, roofless, and
the roof nowhere to be seen; it was discovered afterwards on the top of
their own house, and they had never heard it happen.
The climate in the Argentine is very variable; we have great extremes of
heat and cold. It is healthy as a rule, except in the swampy districts
or during a very wet season, when a great many residents suffer from
rheumatism.
People talk about the sudden changes of English weather, but we are
treated just the same; one day it will be brilliantly hot and fine, and
another day cold and miserable.
One part of the country or another is generally suffering from drought,
when in another part they are being flooded out.
In the winter there is much more sunshine than there is in England; in
the early morning it is bitterly cold, at noon on a fine day it is
blazing hot, and then, as soon as the sun goes in, it freezes hard.
In the summer, of course, the heat is very great, but, as it is
generally dry, it is quite healthy.
SOME EXPERIENCES OF WORKING ON ESTANCIAS.
I came out with my brother on a tramp steamer from Penarth. We took
thirty-one days. However, time passed fairly quickly, chipping off rust
and painting the decks, after we got over our sickness.
Rain fell heavily as we landed at Buenos Aires, two typical _gringos_
(greenhorns), not knowing a word of Spanish. I went to a first-class
hotel, whose proprietor I had met in England. My first attempt to speak
Spanish was in a tram. I asked the conductor to stop; getting out I
said, "Mucha grasa" (much fat), instead of "muchas gracias" (many
thanks)--then called the man a fool for laughing.
We stopped in Buenos Aires a week and our bill came into hundreds of
dollars, which took a big slice off our small means.
We then went to an estancia (farm) in the Province of Cordoba. The
estancia was fifty-one miles square, owned by an Argentine family. The
manager was a North-American, well known in camp life.
The estancia consisted of three sections, one where I went, another
where my brother was, and the other the headquarters.
I was under a young Scotchman. The camp was fifteen miles, with 3,000
cows, 2,000 steers, and 500 mares. There was my companion, one peon
(man), a boy, and myself. My house was made of mud walls and floor, a
zinc roof, with a little straw. It was cool in summer, but very cold in
winter. There was one room for ourselves, where we slept and ate, one
for the cook (when we had one), and a kitchen. Under my bed I had a
snake's hole; a long black snake came out in the night, and, on hearing
a sound, would go back. I did everything to kill it, but with no
success. Also I had two kittens which slept in my bed. One night I felt
something soft by my feet. I thought it was the kittens, but, putting my
hand down, I found my feet covered with blood. I jumped out of bed, and
found a young hare half eaten and my sheets covered with blood.
The first thing I had to do was to skin a cow, and it made me feel very
uncomfortable to look at the horrid sight. The next day I was sent to
fetch the fat from a dead cow. When I got there I could not see any fat
and wondered what it was. I saw the intestines and carried them bodily
on my new recado (native saddle). My horse got excited and I arrived
dead beat. I told my companion I had the fat: then he burst out laughing
and said I had got the intestines. Needless to say my recado was the
worse for wear.
The food was different from what I was used to, and I felt ill for a
time.
In the summer I was up at between three and four, having "maté-cocido"
(cooked Paraguayan tea--the native drink) with a hard biscuit; at
eleven, breakfast of puchero (big pieces of meat boiled in a pot), then
maize with milk and a biscuit. Sometimes tea at four, but very seldom;
supper consisted of an asado and maté at seven or eight o'clock.
I had charge of two valuable stallions--they had a stable of mud and
straw.
At branding time the capataz (foreman) came up with his men for a week.
Up before three o'clock, quite dark, we branded 6,000 calves, and I
enjoyed it.
The Boss seldom came; when he did, his trap would be sure to run over a
piece of wire, and then we heard of it; nothing missed him.
Then our cook began stealing provisions from the store box. We changed
the locks three times, and each time she bought a key to the same. One
night I asked her for some coffee. She said there was none. I could see
she had some in a small bag, and I went to fetch it. She took up a knife
and threatened me. I soon twisted the knife from her. Our food was bad,
my companion was careless, and frightened of her. One day he had a row,
and she got the sack, using strong language. We then did our own cooking
for eight months: the first one home from camp had to begin cooking.
The meat we got was often green and bitter. All the time we had puchero
and asado, and an occasional ostrich egg.
Ostriches swarmed everywhere, and it was good sport lassoing them. I
found one nest with fifty eggs, laid by different birds. My cooking was
rather a failure at first, the smoke was so thick we could not see each
other. I was told to cook maize for dinner. I made a big fire, and
cooked for three hours, and was then told I had the stallions' maize.
Another time it was very dark; our candles, made of old clothes and
grease, had run out. I had made some good soup, and put the pot near the
table, then, walking by, put my foot in it: the hot grease made me hop,
and took the skin off my foot. Our table was an old greasy box; we had
no plates, nor forks, just a big knife. Sometimes, coming in very tired
from a hard day, we had no strength to chop wood and make a fire; we
just went to bed. Many days we only had an asado and maté. Maté I am
very fond of--it is so refreshing and sustaining.
My brother was only eight miles away: his section was under alfalfa, and
he had a comfortable house. One dark night, going home from his place, I
followed a fence until I came to a cross fence. I was going slowly,
when, all of a sudden, my horse stopped dead, and I shot over the fence,
the bridle and halter came off, and away went my horse, leaving me to
continue five miles on foot.
Bizcachas (like a big badger) were numerous. One day we dug a two-metre
hole, and next day found eight live ones. They have teeth one and a-half
inches long.
Our nearest village was eighteen miles away, where I met some English
friends, and played tennis or had some other amusement. I used to start
back at 2.30 a.m. to be in time for work. One night I had to cross a big
field, without a path or fence for a guide. It was dark, and lightning
hard. I made for a light, which I thought was the house. Going for some
time, I came to a fence--I was lost. I unsaddled and lay down to sleep,
the rain was pouring hard, when I heard a donkey braying, so I shouted,
and was answered by a man in a puesto (out-station). The light I saw was
a village twelve miles away.
My companion was very slack, and the patrons came up and sacked him.
Then I went to the estancia house for a month, breaking in colts for
driving. I felt rather sad at leaving my rough work. It was hard work,
but I never had better health.
My Boss then earned $15 per month, and his wife cooked for the men. Now
he is one of the richest men in the country.
There was no opening there, so the Boss sent me to a New Zealander who
had half a league of camp, all fine stock, good alfalfa and splendid
water. He had a big house and I expected I would live well. My first
work was to dig up locusts' eggs for a week under a hot sun, with the
ground very hard. The Boss was a man of forty-two, very red-faced and
extremely rich, but as mean as possible.
Our meals took about six to eight minutes, fast eating; he would watch
every mouthful. At tea he would take a lot of milk and give me a little;
he finished soon, while I burnt my throat. He allowed me a slice of
biscuit for each meal. His cook only got $10 a month.
In the winter we were in bed by six to seven.
His clothes were a disgrace to any peon. He had native trousers that
button at the foot, with top boots, no socks, his heel and big toe were
sticking out, no vest, only a shirt and an old hat, where the grease of
many years was visible.
He was a splendid worker--I have not seen a better one. We used to catch
locusts in a big zinc box pulled by two horses; the locusts were put
into sacks, and after being left standing for four days, were carted to
the village, where he got 10 cents a kilo. The smell in carting these
dead locusts was simply terrible. Then I helped pick ten square of
maize, which at first took a little skin off my hands. At branding time
we lassoed each calf to cut off the horns. I had to sit on their necks,
and got smothered in the face with hot blood. The Boss was very proud
because his monthly account only came to $12 for four of us: biscuits,
sugar, tea, and other things. He sent his clothes once in three months
to be washed. He had few friends, no one ever came to visit him, and
every Sunday he shut himself in his room. He bought the place for
$90,000 and sold it for over double. He was a thorough campman, but so
mean. One cold winter 500 cows died of starvation; rather than sell them
at a low price he let them starve. The last thing he said was, he was
"going to New Zealand to marry an ugly lady, but she has plenty of
money." His countrymen called him a disgrace to his country and the
meanest in the Argentine.
Then a kind friend found me a place on a well-known estancia in the same
province. The manager, the second-manager, and the book-keeper were all
Irish, born in the country. I had a good horse, which I rode fifty miles
to the estancia.
The second told me to have my food with the peons (men), which was
rather disheartening. I tried to eat in the kitchen, but the French cook
kicked me out, and for ten months I fed with the peons; they were very
good fellows. The second and the book-keeper had meals together. The
second-manager did no work: up at half-past eight, he went to the train,
had a drink at the shop, then came back for dinner, slept until
tea-time, then went to see the train pass again and have another drink,
and came back at all hours. He had been there fourteen years and was
only getting a hundred a month.
The chief work was loading cattle and sheep for the big freezing
factories. The trucks were rotten. One night we finished at 11 p.m.,
after a hard day's work, three of us unloaded 300 quebracho posts in
under three hours. I had a French gardener in my room who did nothing
else but spit and talk politics.
The Boss took me to learn shearing. I had to shear, gather the wool,
sort it and pack it up. Each man got five cents a sheep, but it was hard
work, all done by hand.
Then I cut alfalfa for a fortnight--a nice easy job.
A Catholic priest came to stay for eight days--Mass every day at 7 a.m.
and 8 p.m., sometimes three a day. No work at all. Everyone had to
go--the book-keeper did not, so he got the sack. I, as a Protestant,
went to the sermons, which were very good. It was wonderful; these rough
campmen went away quite tamed for a time. The last night the Boss got
married at half-past twelve at night to a native lady. Another time,
while we were at Mass, someone came to say the gardener was dying--we
raced down, the priest in front ready to hear his confession, but when
we got there the gardener was calmly smoking his pipe, greatly
surprised.
An inspector of locusts stopped all the summer. He did nothing but eat,
sleep, and drink whisky. We had locust-killing machines of every
description, but we did not kill ten kilos.
The days I enjoyed were when we started out early to part some animals
in a herd of over a thousand. At eleven we would have an asado and maté,
and give our horses a drink, then finish parting, and get home at
half-past seven. The horses look wrecks, and no good, but they work all
day--mostly galloping--and are splendid stayers.
The Boss's brother, a very nice man of fifty, married a servant of the
Boss, a girl of eighteen.
Great excitement is caused by races. The Boss was keen, and the men
talked of nothing else for days. Every Sunday there are races. Once I
rode my horse bareback in three races of 200 metres, and won a bottle of
beer, a packet of tobacco, and a knife.
Then I was put in charge of fine stock. I had ten Durham bulls, two
thoroughbred stallions, one Pecheron, eight rams and twelve pigs. I had
a boy under me. I also had to saddle up the Boss's and the Second's
horses, and harness the traps. Sometimes I had to wait till eleven at
night, very tired, to unsaddle the Second's horse, as he had been making
love to the Stationmaster's sister.
The work was very interesting and hard, even on Sundays or feast days,
watering, cleaning the animals, and curing any foals that were ill.