The broad pampas are perhaps not so lonely as they seem, for there is generally an abundance of bird life. Flamingoes haunt the lagoons, and long-tailed hawks sit like silent sentinels on the fence posts. The largest bird is the ostrich, of which there are tens of thousands scattered over these broad leagues, which have not yet been broken up by agriculture. In the entire republic it is estimated that there are more than four hundred thousand ostriches. They will feed among the stock, but the agriculturist soon makes them disappear. These long-necked and long-legged birds form a very pretty addition to the landscape. The South American ostrich is smaller than the South African species, and its feathers are not nearly so valuable. They are extremely abundant, however, and bring in a pleasing revenue for the farmer. The feather gatherers bargain with the _estanciero_ to pay him so much for each bird found and picked on his _estancia_. Many of the ostriches are very tame, for the owners do not allow them to be hunted, but they roam at will, easily getting over the low fences that hedge in the fields. In some places the South African ostriches have been introduced and are raised for the commercial value of their plumes. The next place of importance is San Luis, capital of the province of that name, at a still higher elevation. The dead level aspect has now changed to gentle undulations. The long gray shadows on the horizon are the peaks of the Andes, at a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. In this city there has recently been located an observatory by the Carnegie Institution of Washington. The purpose of this observatory is to observe the motion of all stars of the seventh magnitude in the southern heavens, and several American scientists are in charge of the work. A few miles beyond San Luis is an artesian well two thousand feet deep, which was sunk by the government and yields an immense supply of water. The pampa grass now stands in clumps and bare spots become more frequent. The railroad changes its direction time and again instead of taking a bee-line for some distant point. The stony character of the soil increases, but at last a land of vines and tall poplars is entered, and it is not long until the train rolls into the station at Mendoza. “Hotel Grande.” This was the instruction I gave to my cab driver at the station in Mendoza after my baggage had been deposited in the vehicle by a _portero_. “No hay,” he answered, meaning that there was no such hotel.