The sky was flushed with rosy clouds, the forerunners of one of the
most beautiful sunrises imaginable. The river itself is narrow and
monotonous, the branches of the willow-tree on either bank almost
sweeping the sides of the steamer. The centre channel is fairly deep;
but we managed to run aground once, though we only drew nine feet, and
in turning a sharp corner it was necessary to send a boat ashore with
a rope, to pull the vessel's head round.
At half-past six we reached the port of Tigre, where we found many
fine ships waiting for the tide, to go up the river. Some delay
occurred while the passengers' luggage was being examined; but in
about half an hour we were able to land and walk to the
railway-station, through an avenue of shady trees, round the trunks of
which the wistaria, now in full bloom, was climbing, and past several
houses, whose pretty gardens were ablaze with all sorts of flowers. At
the station I found a letter from Tom, telling me we were expected to
breakfast at a quinta, not far from Buenos Ayres.
For about an hour and a half the line ran through a rich and fertile
country, quite the garden of Buenos Ayres, until we arrived at the
station where we were to alight. Here Mr. Coghlan met us and drove us
to his house, which is charmingly situated in the midst of a grove of
olive-trees, formerly surrounding the palace of the viceroys.
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