An excursion to the remote waters savours of the adventurous, for the uninitiated would soon lose his bearings. One will wind in and out of the maze of streams in continual wonder as to what the next bend will reveal. There are broad streets of water, lanes, narrow passages and even blind alleys. One might follow one course and emerge upon the broad La Plata, or he might wind in and out for hours, or even days, without once doubling on his track. Along these less frequented water ways the honeysuckle and swamp flowers bloom unaided, and the large crimson blossoms of the ceibo tree add a brilliant touch of colour. Native boats laden with willow or fruits will occasionally be met, for these watery lanes furnish the only outlet for the most of the islands to the railroad station. In fact it is a sort of rural Venice, in which the water furnishes the only means of communication. Occasionally a boat will disappear into a narrow opening that you have not noticed before, for it was so well shielded by the overhanging willows. Many and beautiful boats will be seen upon the Tigre. There is the swift motor boat decked up high so that it can glide through the waters swiftly; again there is the broader build made for carrying a larger complement of passengers. Then there are yachts of all kinds as well as row-boats of every shape. The most of them are built in Europe, but an occasional one constructed in the United States may be singled out. There are a number of boat clubs. The oldest one was established by the English, but this has been absorbed by the Argentinians and a new one built by the British colony. This is said to be the largest rowing club in the world. The Germans have a club house, and even the Italians have built their own home. There are not enough Americans in that southern metropolis to own a club house, but some of that nationality belong to the English club, and own or have an interest in some of the gasoline-propelled launches.