grey skies drawn out from horizon to horizon;—the Southern Cross high overhead, and that mysterious Black Cloud;—the silent snows eternally bearing witness to the sky;—the utter desolation of the sea-shore;—the gloom of the forest, startled only by the crash of falling timber or the cry of Scytalopus;—the scent of the Calafate;—the roar and rattle and swish of the wind;—the plaintive quavering neigh of the Guanaco;—the gaggle of the Greese;—the harsh screams of the Tero-Tero;—the silvery "Pi-yi" of the Oyster-catcher;—the wail of Eudromias;—the "Tink-Tink" of the Ibis;—the petulant screech of the Chimango;—the way of the Burrowing Owl;—the friendly little Centrites;—the Short-eared Owl and the Ashy Harrier beating the marshes together in daytime.
Amidst this environment I see the forms of fellow Men, with whom I cannot but associate generous Horses and faithful Dogs. Men whom one came to meet only to part from as quickly—
"Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing"
—yet with whom, nevertheless, through mutual goodwill and assistance freely offered and as freely accepted, a bond of sympathy was constituted which can never be severed, even though our paths may never converge at any future time.
Memories of friends such as these are at once precious and sad. If communion be possible between spirit and spirit in mortal Man, they know how often they have place in my thoughts, even as I hope and believe I have place in theirs.
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Leighton Buzzard
