A rainy season was welcome to
us children: the sight of wide sheets of clear shallow water with a
vivid green turf beneath excited us joyfully, and also afforded us
some adventurous days, one of which will be related by and by.
Don Anastacio Buenavida was a middle-aged man, a bachelor, deeply
respected by his neighbours, and even looked on as a person of
considerable importance. So much did I hear in his praise that as a
child I had a kind of reverential feeling for him, which lasted for
years and did not, I think, wholly evaporate until I was in my teens
and began to form my own judgments. He was quite a little man, not
more than an inch or two over five feet high, slim, with a narrow
waist and small ladylike hands and feet. His small oval face was the
colour of old parchment; he had large dark pathetic eyes, a
beautifully shaped black moustache, and long black hair, worn in
symmetrical ringlets to his shoulders. In his dress too he was
something of an exquisite. He wore the picturesque gaucho costume; a
_camiseta_, or blouse, of the finest black cloth, profusely decorated
with silver buttons, puffs and pleats, and scarlet and green
embroidery; a _chiripa_, the shawl-like garment worn in place of
trousers, of the finest yellow or vicuna-coloured wool, the white
_carsoncillos_, or wide drawers, showing below, of the finest linen,
with more fringe and lace-work than was usual in that garment.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199