The railway ride over the pampas was interesting enough at first, but Frank soon found it monotonous. One mile greatly resembled another mile, as there is not much diversity of scenery on the broad plains, with their carpet of grass and scanty patches of trees. Several times the youth found himself regretting the departure of the old customs, and wished that he could emulate the example of Lieutenant Strain, and gallop across the pampas with the government courier. But the perusal of Strain's narrative, portraying the hardships and difficulties experienced by that gallant officer, brought him to his senses, and he was quite contented to be journeying in a railway carriage. Frank copied into his note-book the following description, by Sir Francis Head, of the aspect of the plains of Buenos Ayres: "This region, bordering on the Atlantic, varies with the four seasons of the year in a most remarkable manner. In winter the leaves of the thistles are large and luxuriant, and the whole surface of the country has the rough appearance of a turnip-field. The clover in this season is extremely rich and strong; and the sight of the wild cattle grazing in full liberty on such pasture is very beautiful. In spring the clover has vanished, the leaves of the thistles have extended along the ground, and the country still looks like a rough crop of turnips. In less than a month the change is most extraordinary; the whole region becomes a luxuriant wood of enormous thistles, which have suddenly shot up to a height of ten or eleven feet, and are all in full bloom. "The road or path is hemmed in on both sides; the view is completely obstructed; not an animal is to be seen; and the stems of the thistles are so close to each other, and so strong, that, independent of the prickles with which they are armed, they form an impenetrable barrier. The sudden growth of these plants is quite astonishing; and though it would be an unusual fortune in military history, yet it is really possible that an invading army, unacquainted with this country, might be imprisoned by these thistles before they had time to escape from them. The summer is not over before the scene undergoes another rapid change, the thistles suddenly lose their sap and verdure, their heads droop, the leaves shrink and fade, the stems become black and dead, and they remain rattling with the breeze one against another until the violence of the _pampero_, or hurricane, levels them to the ground, whence they rapidly decompose and disappear; the clover rushes up and the scene is again verdant."