scanty irrigation that the peasant can cultivate a narrow strip of land.
Inclosed by these arid wastes lies, nevertheless, a fertile region
entitled the Plains, which, in despite of its name, is broken by ridges of
hills, and supports a luxuriant vegetation with pastures trodden by
unnumbered herds. The character of the people is Oriental; their
appearance actually recalls, as we are told, that of the ancient dwellers
about Jerusalem; their very customs have rather an Arabic than a Spanish
tinge.

Somewhere upon these _Llanos_, and toward the close of the eighteenth
century, Don Prudencio Quiroga, as a well-to-do _estanciero_ or grazier,
was gladdened (doubtless) by the birth of a lusty son. He called him Juan
Facundo. For the first few years of his existence, we may safely believe,
the future general was scarcely distinguishable from a common baby.
Obstinate he doubtless was, and fierce and cruel in his tiny way; were his
mother still alive, the good woman could doubtless tell us of many a
bitter moment spent in lamenting her infant's waywardness; but we hear
nothing of him until the year 1799, when he was sent to San Juan, a town
then celebrated for its schools and learning, to acquire the rudiments of
knowledge. At the age of eleven the boy already manifested the character
of the future man. Solitary, disdainful, rebellious, his intercourse with
his schoolfellows was limited to the interchange of blows, his only
amusement lay in the annoyance of those with whom he was brought in
contact. He is already a perfect Gaucho; can wield the lasso, and the
_bolas_, and the knife; is a fearless _ginete_, a consummate horseman. One
day at school, the master, irritated beyond endurance, exhibits a new rod,
bought expressly, so he says, "for flogging Facundo." When the boy is
called up to recite, he blunders, stammers, hesitates, on purpose. Down
comes the rod; with a vigorous kick Facundo upsets the pedagogue's rickety
throne, and takes to his heels. After a three-days' search, he is