The Camp is a vast plain. It spreads its smooth, unbroken surface for hundreds of miles, with no natural hillock higher than those which the termite ants have erected, and no depression more marked than those which the huge cart-wheels have cut in the loose surface soil. It can best be characterized as an ocean of land, spreading out like an unruffled sea from horizon to horizon. Here and there, in the distance, objects may seem to arise out of this vast expanse like little islands at sea, and the illusion at times seems almost perfect. A nearer approach, however, shows them to be the buildings of an _estancia_, or a grove of trees. Even the groves did not exist before the hand of man altered the landscape, for the plains of Argentina were unblessed by any forest growth whatsoever—with the single exception of the rare ombu tree, specimens of which might be met with at intervals of several miles. Spots, which at a distance appear as dark lumps, finally shape themselves into humble structures of black mud, which are the homes of colonists. Their sombre and unattractive exterior may be relieved by the flaming red or vivid blue dress of an Italian girl, which makes a welcome bit of colour under the circumstances. The dust clouds in the distance will be found to be floating behind horses’ hoofs, or the wheels of a cumbersome wagon drawn by several yokes of oxen. These clouds move onward across the pampa much as the black smoke trails behind a slow-moving steamer. These vast stretches of level land may produce a certain sense of irritation upon one newly arrived in Argentina. He may ride for league upon league on his horse, or travel for hour after hour by train, awaiting that change of scenery, which his experience leads him to believe will inevitably occur. He might start in the centre of the republic and travel for scores of leagues east, west, north or south, and find the same unending monotony. But there is, nevertheless, a certain fascination about this very vastness of the Camp which grows upon one; in these leagues upon leagues of rich soil, which here spread themselves in readiness to receive the seed from the hand of the farmer, and to yield forth an abounding harvest in return for the labour bestowed. Upon these plains one may watch the herds of cattle and the flocks of the sheep which are scattered clear to the limit of one’s vision, a distance so great that the largest animals stand out as mere specks against the sky. One may travel through miles of the golden grain ready for the sickles of the reaper, and then will come upon an equal stretch of flax in flower, which gives the fields a bluish tint. Interspersed with the wheat and flax may be seen the green corn and the purple of the alfalfa blossom. These broad patches follow one another in almost endless succession. Although one’s horizon is at all times limited, he knows that, in whatever direction he looks, that which lies beyond is an exact