No. 1.
Saturday, March 26th, 1910.
When we consider the already overstocked journalistic world, and remember the innumerable papers and magazines which greet one at every street corner and nestle in every armchair, we feel that an apology is due to our readers (if any) for our temerity in swelling the overflow of periodicals, but let us assure you our reasons for putting another paper on the market are purely altruistic. It is no idea of mere gain, or even a desire for notoriety that urges us to issue "The Tacuru"; we have undertaken this responsibility because we know that the world would be the loser did we refuse to give to the public the highly scientific impressions formed by an extraordinarily intelligent party of pilgrims during a unique journey into the wild uncultivated northern lands of the Argentine, especially as some of the most intellectual (the superlative adverb is well chosen) members of the band have promised to give their scientific views on the lands through which we shall pass daily. Though this expedition is only advertised to last a fortnight, yet we have no intention of closing our paper at the end of that time, for we are certain that once the public have been educated to appreciate the high-class literature and useful information which it will be the aim of "The Tacuru" to supply, we shall have created a demand and interest which not even Halley's comet can rival, and we shall endeavour to satisfy that demand daily. Our only fear was that lest the world should be kept waiting for the publication of our paper, for though everything was in readiness yesterday for an early start to-day, the elements seemed inclined to delay us, and when rain had fallen steadily nearly all day, The Instigator of the trip was seen to clench his jaw yesterday afternoon, as he remarked "We cannot start till Monday." This fiat caused dire consternation; the idea of waiting for two days when all those carts were packed ready for our immediate outset, filled the party with annoyance, and had it not been for the fact that The Instigator is a man not to be trifled with, it is possible remonstrances might have been raised. But, fortunately, each member of the party only possessed the angelic variety of temper, so no expostulations were made, and peace was maintained. This unequalled patience under trials was rewarded, and great was the joy of the party when at 8 p.m. it was found that the rain had ceased, and the moon shone forth in such a way as to influence The Instigator to rescind his decision and declare an early start for to-day.
Rumour has it that The Jehu and his aide-de-camp and Our Hostess sat up till 12.30 a.m., finally arranging "places in the carriages, food supplies, blankets required," and all the innumerable details which made for the party's comfort.
Before we publish the impressions, contributed by one member of the band, on to-day's trip, we think our readers might appreciate a slight character sketch of each of our "Staff." There are nine Pilgrims.
FIRST: The Instigator. Well, he's right when you know him, but you do want to know him first. What possessed him to suggest that we should trek away north, goodness only knows, unless he was fired by a desire to imitate the Cook-Peary journeys, or it may have been the celebrated "Cristobal Cocktails" which inspired him to do great deeds.
We hear that coming out from England he earned a reputation on board ship as an auctioneer, and once even sold a live lord for a few shillings to the highest lady bidder. As a camp man he is a marvel, never seen on horseback, but generally discovered on his hands and knees fudging about with a thing he calls a pocket microscope, and occasionally going off into hysterics over some clod of earth, a leaf, or some weird microbes which he says are feeding on the alfalfa roots. Talking of feeding, The Instigator can eat anything, his motto is "tout jour"; he has the digestion of an ostrich, and says "it is just as well to make a good meal while you are about it, for you never know when and where you will get the next." His best friends cannot say he is musical (save when others are trying to sleep); but he has a favourite song, and it is that old music-hall classic entitled "Do, do, be always on the do." However, he is a very good fellow, and notwithstanding that square jaw of his, which seems to hint at the possibility of "a man of wrath" existing in that silent thoughtful being, he is kindness itself to all, and never fails to do his share of work as it comes along.
SECOND: Our Guest. The Wild Man discovered this rara avis in a railway carriage, babbling for "Kwilmez Beer," so he was brought along, and he had not been long at the Estancia before he was running first favourite in the Popularity Stakes. He was always ready for anything, and it must have been his desire to acquire knowledge which induced him to come with the party. The Saint has undertaken to explain to him how colonists thrive on the 8 per cent. system, and to teach him how many grains of maize make "ocho." We doubt whether she will succeed in the latter attempt, for we fancy Our Guest will never leave eight grains of maize uneaten; he is a wonder for that delicacy, and feeds on it constantly, and we hear rumours that he intends to take some maize cobs home with him to his native country, and proposes to feed his "team" on it.
THIRD: The Delineator. This is a misnomer, he really should be called "The Photographer," but that sounds so common, and his views are so uncommon that we called him The Delineator instead; besides, he always travels about with maps and charts (his own, or someone else's) and when appealed to as to what course we should take, replies in a cold, hard voice, "North by North, just as she goes." Like the rest of the party, he has never travelled quite the road we are going now, but the prospect of collecting a few new varieties of butterflies, moths, insects, and plants caused his eyes to light up with a wild gleam when he heard of the trip, and the yarns he spins of things unseen by the ordinary sober mortal are ever a joy to the listener, and make them whisper, se non è vero è ben trovato.