“You are a thief, as every one knows,” says the market woman. “Oh, Señora, only an angel like you could say such things,” replies the merchant. And thus they go on passing similar compliments without either one losing his or her temper until a bargain is finally struck. The vendors, however, do not unduly urge, and apparently do not seem to care whether you buy or not. There seems to be no standard of value. In the late afternoon meat may be purchased very cheap, as the law requires all meat to be sold the same day on which it is killed. The butchers go out to the municipal slaughtering houses very early in the morning and kill as many animals as they think they can sell that day. Those who do not find it convenient to come to the market are supplied by the vendors, who carry fruits and vegetables from door to door. Their supplies are carried in baskets which are suspended on poles swung across the shoulders. The air is filled with the cries of these picturesque peripatetic merchants, of the scissors-grinders and the dealer in notions, most of whom are Italians. In the morning and evening cows are brought to the door and milk drawn direct from nature’s reservoirs in any quantity desired. The tinkle of a bell is the herald of the milkman’s approach, and the doors open as the good housewife or maid appears with pitcher in hand. Donkey’s milk is also delivered in the same way, and its use is often preferred for the feeding of infants. The capital of Argentina is more like an American city than any other city of South America. The architecture is entirely dissimilar, but the movement on the streets, the arrangement of the stores, and the general bearing of the people bears a marked resemblance. They like to be called the Yankees of South America, for that term signifies energy, resourcefulness and progressiveness. They are deserving of the term too. They are less strenuous than Americans, for they love holidays and enter heartily into the holiday spirit whenever the occasion permits. In that way they seem to get a great deal of pleasure out of life, perhaps more than many of our intensely absorbed, overworked business men. [Illustration: THE RICOLETA CEMETERY]