Summary

C. S. Stewart Brazil and La Plata: The personal record of a cruise

Do thou, O city of Buenos Ayres—do thou speak: and speak every province, speak every town, speak every family of the Republic! Oh, thou year of 1840! O fatal epoch! What days of darkness, what days of mourning, what days of tears! your memory will forever embitter our existence. Ah! yes—in every street, in every house, in every room, we then stumbled over some victim—innocent victim, for, to be innocent was, in the eyes of that wicked one, the greatest of crimes. Humanity is horrified by the frightful truth! The story seems like a fable, but we ourselves are witnesses to the facts.
Source: Gutenberg

C. S. Stewart Brazil and La Plata: The personal record of a cruise

In the morning, the whole bay is smooth and glassy as a lake, one vast mirror, along whose edges are repictured in strong and unbroken reflection, mountain and city, church-tower, fortress, and convent, in minute fidelity, while all the men-of-war, and the little craft floating by with useless sails, lie in duplicate around. The sun glares hotly—not a breath of air is stirring, and every one is oppressed. But watching seaward, the topsails of the inward-bound in the far offing are seen, by and by, to be gently filling with a breeze
Source: Gutenberg

C. S. Stewart Brazil and La Plata: The personal record of a cruise

Scarce a stone is standing, and not a vestige of ornament or beauty remains. I could not avoid being struck, amid other objects in the scene—at the funeral, with the appearance of the hearse—the best the city now affords, and emblematic of all its attempts at display. Its curtains of velvet, once doubtless black, are now faded to a muddy orange, and are all tattered and torn; and what were, originally, plumes of ostrich feathers, nodding gracefully at each corner, are now only bristling quills, from which every feather has fallen in decay.
Source: Gutenberg

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