could not make it pass out of the limits of poverty. My mother now had at her disposal a theatre worthy of her agricultural knowledge; to the decrepid fig-tree succeeded in her affections a hundred young trees, whose growth her maternal eye fostered. Hours of every day were consecrated to this plant and to that vine, upon which the family was in future to depend, for a portion of its sustenance.
"When I had accomplished this work, I could say in my joy at having produced such a result, I saw that it was good, and I was happy."
"MY EDUCATION.
"In a school, the details of which I have mentioned elsewhere,[1] and where I entered at five years of age, I remained nine years without having missed a single day, under any pretext, for my mother was there to see that I should fulfill my duty of punctuality, under the penalty of her indescribable severity. At five years of age, I read fluently, in a loud voice, with intonations and emphasis that only a complete comprehension of the subject could give, and so uncommon was this early skill at that period, that I was carried from house to house to display my reading, reaping a great harvest of cakes, embraces, and encomiums, which filled me with vanity." In a letter to his uncle,[2] the illustrious Bishop of Cuyo, written after seeing Pompeii, our author describes himself again with much liveliness.
"I want your highness to do an act of justice in San Juan, seizing by the ear our cousin M. It was your illustrious highness who, when curate, put a little book into my hand, remarking to some one at the same time I have
