every day, from the increasing business
of the Saladeros.

The particular establishment which I
inspected was that belonging to the Spanish
house of Santamaria, Llambi and Cambaceres;
which is situated on a piece of ground that
may have a length of four hundred yards and
a breadth of nearly two hundred and fifty
yards. Its form is quadrangular, having
the river on one of the longer sides. On the
other three sides it is enclosed by a ditch, or
sanja, through which the blood of the
slaughtered cattle is discharged into the river.
In the middle of the square stands a white
flat-roofed house, with a small garden and
separate yard. This serves as the residence
of the major-domo, or manager of the whole
establishment, and for counting-houses.

Entering through a gateway from the road
on the South, the visitor finds himself in a
large yard, surrounded on three sides by buildings.
On the left is the corral. This is a
wide but oblong inclosure, with a separate
portal from the road, for the cattle to enter
at. Within is a smaller corral or vreté,
entirely round, and paved with wood. These
inclosures are formed by closely-wedged
fences of the trunks of poplar trees. From
the month of November to April the great
corral is always full of bellowing fat cattle,
which is brought, with great trouble and often
great loss, by people called accarreadores, or
receros, from the Estancias in the interior.
They drive the cattle, either on their own
account, or on account of the house of Santamaria
and Co., at the rate of from nine to
fifteen miles a day.

Let us suppose a herd to have arrived; and,
in order to get a clear idea of the life and
activity going on in these Saladeros, follow
the victims to their doom. Imagine them
collected in the great corral preparing to
be driven into the small one. The entrance
to this is approached by a narrow lane,
consisting of two rows of enormous stakes
—whole trunks of trees in fact—driven into
the earth. The gate between the great corral
and the main road, is closed. The receros
are pushing, and goading, and hallooing with
might and main, till the beasts are wedged
together as tightly as people at the pit-door
of a theatre on the night of a popular play;
but, unlike the pit entrance, the door of the
vreté or smaller inclosure is of the
portcullis kind; and when the performances
inside are to commence, it is lifted up. The
bovine victims rush in; but the moment
they enter, they encounter sights and smells
portentous of their coming fate, which impel
them to make a sudden retreat. Alas! the
instant the last tail has passed under the
opening, down falls the door to oppose all
egress; and the unhappy oxen find themselves
as completely imprisoned as rats in a trap.

It is three o'clock in the morning of a
South American summer, and a bell has
already summoned the workmen to their
various avocations. Several jolly figures
appear, joking with each other, and smoking
their paper cigars. Though so merry, they
are sanguinary-looking fellows; their calico
shirts, their canzonzillas or wide trowsers,
the chiripá or apron, the sash which confines
all these round the waist, and the handkerchief
which is folded tightly round their heads, are
blood-stained. Into the sash is stuck, on
one side, a couple of long knives, kept in
formidable order by a steel suspended from
the other; such being the characteristic
dress and appliances of the desolladores or
skinners. They all make towards a large
floor paved with wood, and sheltered under a
roof which is supported by huge wooden
pillars. This is the playa or butcher-house.
At one corner of this playa is a communication
with the vreté, a sort of doorway, across
which is fastened midway into each post;
a great bar. Upon this bar is fitted a small
wheel, over the circumference of which is
rove a strong and long rope of hide, with a
lasso, or running noose, at one end in the
vreté, and a couple of horses attached to the
other end, in the galpon. Under the bar is a
low carriage, into which the beast falls, when
dead, to be drawn away. Sharpening their
knives and arranging their implements, the
executioners are soon ready for action.

Meanwhile the Capataz de los Coralles
(Captain of the Corrals) with a half-dozen boys, are
busy riding round the larger enclosure on
horseback, making the most hideous noises
their lungs are capable of, and galloping about
in all directions, till they have frightened
from eighty to a hundred of the beasts into
the lesser enclosure. When that is done, the
cattle are shut in, and fall under the knife of
the slaughterman by a very ingenious process.
Near to the bar and wheel an enlassador, or
lasso-thrower stands upon a railed platform
—(a short gallery, in fact)—and with unerring
aim throws the noose of his lasso over the
horns of the nearest animal, and catches it.
He then gives the word " dele!" (go on), to
the horses harnessed to the other end of the
lasso; they move rapidly on, the lasso travels
round the wheel till the ox's head is pressed
so tightly against it, that he is powerless, and
forced into a position most convenient to be
slaughtered. The enlassador then draws from
his belt a short dagger, and stabs the animal
in the back of the neck—its most vulnerable
part — just between the skull and the spine.
Death is instantaneous: after a convulsive
shudder the beast drops down as if struck
with lightning. This is a comparatively
humane mode of slaughter, which might with
advantage be adopted in this country.

In a minute the car upon four wheels which
receives the animal is drawn (on the bar being
lifted) into the interior of the galpon, on a
tram. The carcase is delivered over to the
skinners, and the car returns to the fatal bar
and wheel for another victim. This goes on
all day, with the exception of a half-hour's rest,