It is to South America what the tea of China is to Europe and the United States; nor are its qualities very greatly different from those of the Asiatic herb.
The yerba trees grow in forests, called yerbales, on the rivers of Paraguay, and attain a considerable size.
At the time of gathering, a party of peons are sent into the forest, who collect the branches, sprigs, and leaves in vast piles, which are afterwards thoroughly scorched. This being accomplished, the leaves and twigs are packed in a raw hide, which contracts as it dries, compressing the yerba into an almost solid mass. In this condition it is sent to market.
The maté is a small gourd, which forms the general drinking-cup in all the regions which I visited. An infusion of the yerba having been made, with accessories, as in our own country, it is sucked from the maté through a tin or silver tube, called the bombilla, which is provided at its lower extremity with a strainer, which prevents the fine particles of the yerba from rising to the mouth. The name of the gourd or cup is not unfrequently coupled with that of the tea itself in mentioning the article.
At last everything was ready for our departure; and at eleven o’clock one starlight night we sailed slowly along the little Tigre, and, passing the peach islands at its mouth, in an hour after, were fairly on our passage across the Plata, which at this point is nearly thirty miles wide. Upon arriving off the San Juan River, early the next morning, the tide was out, and the bar at the mouth of the stream impassable, which obliged us to remain stationary until afternoon, when the rising tide permitted us to wind up the stream, and through luxuriant foliage, the home of the tiger-cat, and once the lair of the fierce jaguar, which is now, however, rarely met with, having been driven from his ancient hunting-grounds by parties of natives who had been exasperated by his continual depredations. Now the little tiger-cat and wild dogs are their tormentors and annually a tiger hunt comes off at the mouth of the river.
We arrived at our destination in due time, and the cargo of sheep was safely landed. Preparations for the night had hardly been completed, when from a certain quarter were heard loud and prolonged sounds, so wild and fearful that our attention was directed towards it.
“It is the voices of wild animals scenting the sheep-fold,” said one of our party. The shepherd dogs on the borders of the stream pricked up their ears, and the hair stood up stiffly upon their backs as they walked around the sleeping flock, growling savagely.
While we listened, the sounds grew more and more distinct, and shortly we were upon our feet to repel an attack from a pack of wild dogs. Perceiving that we were too strong to be molested with impunity, they withdrew, snapping and growling, for a short distance, where they continued their music for two or three hours, and then drew off to another estancia.
These animals hunt in packs, and though of a cowardly nature, will, when fierce with hunger, attack man. The following incident, which occurred a few days prior to our arrival, proves this often-contested fact.
A capataz (foreman) of an estancia (farm), while returning from a distant village to his home, met a pack of these dogs. The instinct of the brutes told them that the tired horse could not outstrip them in the long run. They gave chase, and soon brought the horse and rider to the ground. The capataz had no other weapon than his knife, which proved ineffectual for his defence, and both man and horse were torn to pieces and devoured.