[7] A performance was advertised for a benefit, founded upon the battle of Salamanca. In the front of the theatre, on the evening previous, a transparency was exhibited, representing the discomfited French pursued by Wellington and his troop: they had, likewise, a British flag hoisted. All this was too much for Monsieur to bear; and a scuffle took place, in an attempt to haul the flag down. On the play night, an O.P. row was expected, but all went off quietly. The British are not great patrons to the theatre: they assign, as a cause, the want of attraction; but business, and their inclination to society among themselves, are perhaps the chief reasons of their neglect. There are, however, a number of Englishmen, who find relief from the cares of business, and are constant attendants at the theatre; some of them, without any fixed object, stroll about, earnestly gazing at the pretty girls, whom they designate by particular names. I have been much amused, when they have pointed out to me the different ladies, under their fixed appellations; as, Imogen, Euphrosyne, Discretion, Corinna, Zenobia, the Greeks, &c. One gentleman, Don Geronimo Salas, they have named the King, from his great likeness to George the Fourth of England. The resemblance is considerable; only that Don Geronimo is not so corpulent as his Majesty. It is not every day we see men with persons so corpulent as his Britannic Majesty and Don Geronimo: the former (national prejudice apart) does indeed look like a king; the latter is a very handsome man. It is not uncommon to see infants a few months old, in the arms of their mothers, and slaves, at the play. The ladies attend the boxes in their most brilliant attire, combining neatness with elegance, mostly in white; the neck and bosom partly exposed, just enough to excite admiration, without alarming the most fastidious modesty; a gold chain, or other ornament, is now and then suspended from the neck; the dress, with short sleeves; the hair tastefully arranged; a simple comb, and a few real or artificial flowers braided about the hair. On a full night, the theatre presents a spectacle of lovely women, that a stranger would hardly expect. I have often contemplated them, with their dark expressive eyes and raven hair, adding, if possible, more beauty to countenances already so beautiful. I think no city in the world, of the same population, can boast more charming females than Buenos Ayres. Their appearance and brilliancy, at the theatre, is not exceeded either at Paris or London; and I write from a tolerable acquaintance with the theatres of both capitals. It is true, the costly diamonds and waving plumes, that blaze from the persons of the British and French fair, are not to be seen in Buenos Ayres: those appendages, however, in my humble opinion, add not to female loveliness.