But alas. You should read what came out in the paper next morning. . . I was quoted to have said Uruguay had a most forward and socially stable government, or something like that.
LIVESTOCK—REAL AND BRONZED
Our friend, the manager of the company, proved to be most capable. . . We drove over the city after picking up his wife. . . Montevideo is much cleaner and more mechanized than is Rio or Santos, or so it seemed to me. The docks were less littered up. Perhaps people and business moved faster and more orderly. . . Saw a world of sheep. Sheep is a big industry in Uruguay—perhaps its biggest. There were also pen after pen of cattle. I never saw a steer there as good as Oscar Clodfelter's worst one.
If I have worked kilos into pounds and pesos into dollars correctly, prime steers are selling on the hoof there at the market at five to six cents per pound, our money. But always remember they're probably grassers and not the way the Hazlett boys or Jude Grimes corn feeds them.
Another thing in Montevideo. I've seen a real piece of art, a bronze piece of statuary "of heroic size." It sets in a park. It is called La Carreta, and depicts an early settler on a horse beside a two-wheeled pioneer cart with one big wheel sunk in the mud plumb down to the axle pulled by one bull and seven steers or oxen all yoked together, and with a spare ox tied on behind. I looked to see about that ox. He was an ox and the only possible criticism I have is that he should have been a cow tied on behind. Otherwise the thing is perfection to me. The cart slopes just right, the oxen look hard-worked, the bull like a bull, thick neck and all, the horse like a thin, tired horse ought to look, and the man like some men up on Raccoon I've seen in my time. Only he had on some local trappings my men never had. But there they are, the man yelling, the bull and oxen set and straining for every ounce, and all trying like hell to get out.
Maybe that cow was following behind a half quarter or so, and I failed to see her.
CLEARED FOR BUENOS AIRES
We sailed out at 6 p.m. Dec. 13 for Buenos Aires. In the meantime the Argentine doctors had come aboard to look us over and sort out the rots and specks. They, along with our ship's doctor and some of the officers were in the bar when Sugar Foot and I came back to ship. One man who had traveled before said they were being mellowed-up so they wouldn't be too technical with us. If they were, it took a long time. . . The Purser handed in Sugar Foot's passport. The doctor found the right page, took one look at her and stamped her "sound", remarked something about the beautiful senorita. They are good at that down here—mighty good. I don't know how many men have kissed her hand to date on introduction. . .They stamped me next and we were off.
A man from one of those blessed firms met us at B.A., and got us through customs in record time. Not only that, he got us and our luggage to a waiting car, and said, "This car and the chauffeur are at your disposal day and night during your stay in Buenos Aires, which we hope will be most pleasant. . . Don't hesitate to ask us for any information."
And here I had been worrying about two extra cartons of cigarettes all the way from St. Thomas.