They have had a cyclone, I see, at “Baires,” as the wireless used to have it at the W.T.I.D; but, as we had a gale y’day at Ventnor, there’s not much in that. On the other hand, how do you propose to travel from Baires to Paradise Valley? I ask in all ignorance: is there a railway? I know there are Argentine Rails; but are the Andes tunnelled? If not, what about it? You can travel from London to Ventnor via Cowes but also via Ryde; in my days, the route from Baires to Valparaiso knew but one method: to Ride, if you like, but to Ride via Llamas. Let me warn you, a llama would spit in your eye as soon as look at you. And you not knowing a word of the language! How’s it to be done, Stephen, how’s it to be done? There are bits of the Andes where you cross a crevasse, llama and all, in a basket slung on a rope which stretches from precipice to precipice. Of all the cinematographic stunts! Well, there! Have you a nice revolver?...
... Tell me what you think that you are going to eat between Baires and Valparaiso, he adds next day. They grow comparatively few fish on the slopes or even on the crests of the Andes....
As a matter of curiosity, write to me to-morrow what your weather was like now at 9.15 a.m. to-day. I am sitting at a wide-open window actually perspiring (saving your presence) with heat.
I reassured him as best I could (17.11.20):
... Those who know tell me that there is a perfectly good railway from Buenos Aires to Valparaiso with a permanent way, rolling stock, points and signals, tunnels to taste and all the paraphernalia that one might buy on a small scale at Hamley’s toy-shop. The Andes ought, of course, to be crossed on mule-back, but this takes long and I do not know any mules. Nor, from your exposition of their habits, am I desirous of meeting any llamas....
My faithful Stephen, many thanks for your three letters, he writes, 21.11.20. I’ve been feeling rather out of sorts these last few days and have not written to you since Thursday, I believe; not that I have much to tell you ... except that, were I weller and stronger, I should write and offer my sword to that maligned monarch, Constantine I. of the Hellenes. I am growing heartily sick of seeing countries meddling in other countries’ business....
It were the baldest side on my part, he confesses on 23.11.20 to pretend that the weather here has not turned cold. The winds are what is known as bitter. But the sun is shining like blazes. And there you have what I was leading up to: once bitter, twice shining.
Ever yours,
Alexander Crawshay.
Not content with emulating Mrs. Robert Crawshay’s wit and appropriating her name, Teixeira laid his witticism before her and challenged her to say that it was not of the true brand. There is a reference to this in a later letter; his next communication was a picture-postcard of Ventnor, annotated by himself: