[Don Ramon Paez, in his “Wild Scenes in South America; or, Life in the Llanos of Venezuela,” has given us some interesting pictures of a region little known to travellers. These vast plains are inhabited by a people many of whom bear a close resemblance in their habits to the Argentine Gauchos. The following selection is devoted to a description of this people and their region of habitation.]
We left Ortiz as usual, very early the next morning, stumbling here and there amidst the mass of loose stones which paved the way along the winding bed of the quebrada. In proportion as we advanced on our route the hills decreased in size, while the loose stones seemed to increase in quantity. The splendid groves of hardy and balsamiferous trees, which near Ortiz formed an almost impenetrable forest, gradually became less imposing in appearance, until they were replaced by thickets of thorny bushes, chiefly composed of several species of mimosas, with a delicate and feathery foliage. The traveller accustomed to the shade of a luxuriant vegetation, and to the sight of cultivated valleys, is struck by the rapid diminution of the former, and the total disappearance of the latter, as he emerges from the Galeras of Ortiz; yet he is somewhat compensated by the almost overpowering perfume shed by masses of the canary-colored blossoms with which these shrubs are loaded, from the summits down to the bending branches that trail the ground at every passing breeze.
Suddenly we entered a widely-extended tract of level land almost destitute of vegetation. With the exception of a few clumps of palm-trees with fan-like leaves, nothing but short grass covered its entire surface, almost realizing the idea of an “ocean covered with sea-weed.” A dense mass of vapor pervading the atmosphere obscured the horizon, while the fan-palms, seen from afar, appeared like ships enveloped in a fog. Gradually the circle of the heavens seemed to close around us, until we became, as it were, encompassed by the sky. We were, in fact, treading the shores of the great basin of the Llanos, over one of the ancient shoals or mesas, which, like successive terraces, now form the border of those grassy oceans known as the Pampas. This was the Mesa de Paya, the seat of one of the cattle-farms to which we were bound.
After wandering for nearly three hours over this monotonous landscape without compass, and guided only by certain landmarks known to the vaqueanos, we came unexpectedly upon the borders of the Mesa, which commands an extensive view of the lower savannas. As if by magic, the dreary scene changed to one of the most glorious panoramas in existence. At our feet lay a beautiful expanse of meadow, fresh and smooth as the best cultivated lawn, with troops of horses and countless herds of cattle dispersed all over the plain. Several glittering ponds, alive with all varieties of aquatic birds, reflected upon their limpid surface the broad-leaved crowns of the fan-palms, towering above verdant groves of laurel, amyris, and elm-like robles. Farther beyond, and as far as the eye could reach, the undulating plain appeared like a petrified ocean after the sweeping tempest.
But I feel that my descriptions fall short of the reality, and that I am unable to depict the harmonious effects of light and shade, and the blending of the various tints of green, blue, and purple, dispersed over this extensive panorama; the towering palms gracefully fanning the glowing atmosphere with their majestic crowns of broad and shining leaves, and myriad other beauties difficult to enumerate.
I could scarcely tear myself away from the spot, so fascinated was I with the novelty of the scene. My companions, more concerned for the speedy termination of the journey than the beautiful in nature, set off at a brisk trot towards the house, which was at no great distance. Fearing to lose my way among the intricate paths leading to it, I was compelled to follow in their wake, stopping occasionally to gaze once more upon those enchanting groves, which seemed to return me to the highly cultivated fields and green meadows of glorious “Old England,” from whence I had just returned.
On descending to the plain below, my attention was attracted to an unsightly group of palm-thatched huts, looking more like huge beehives than the abode of human beings. A formidable fence of palm-trunks surrounded the premises and several acres of ground beyond. These were the corrals, or enclosures where the training of the fierce herds was practised by the hardy dwellers of the Llanos; but no signs of cultivation, or aught else connected with the rural occupations of the farmer, were visible in the neighborhood. Presently the cavalcade stopped before the gate, and all the individuals composing it dismounted and began to unsaddle their horses, amidst the barking of a legion of dogs and the braying of all the donkeys in the vicinity.
This was the hato, or cattle-farm, of San Pablo we were in quest of, famous in the annals of the civil wars in Venezuela as the occasional head-quarters of the constitutional armies, commanded by the owner of this farm. Our leader was received at the entrance of his estate by a grave and elderly negro slave, who acted as overseer, and had under his control all the men and property attached to it. Kneeling upon the stony court-yard, he kissed the hand extended to him in friendly greeting, after which he proceeded to unsaddle his master’s horse, which he led to a pond within the enclosure, where the horses were watered.
We purposed remaining a few days at San Pablo, with the object of incorporating some fresh relays of mules and horses from the abundant stock of this estate; so we of the staff installed ourselves under the palm-roof of our rustic mansion, while the rank and file of the expedition found accommodation in the open barracoons adjoining it, although none of the party had reason to boast of being better off than his neighbor.
“It is sad when pleasing first impressions are obliterated,” remarks a sentimental writer; “always painful to become désenchanté on a more intimate acquaintance with either people or places.” I soon found that I was not in the fairy-land I had imagined, abounding in grottos and refreshed by sparkling fountains, but in the region of the Llanos, where the French adage, Chacun pour soi et Dieu pour tous, is verified to its fullest extent. San Pablo, with its vaunted prestige, and in spite of its proximity to several important marts, was no better provided with accommodations than the untidy douar of the wandering Arab of the desert. A rickety table standing against the wall for fear of tumbling down, two or three clumsy cedar chairs covered with raw hide, and a couple of grass hammocks, serving the double purpose of beds and lounges, constituted all the furniture of the great farm. As a substitute for wardrobes and hat-stands, we were shown a number of deer-antlers and bull-horns embedded in the walls of reeds and mud, on which to hang our pouches, bridles, etc.