frequent the Hotel of Liberty in the street
of the 25th of May, it would be difficult to
find even in the celebrated cellars of Leadenhall-
street. If we were wholly unacquainted
with the domestic habits of these scaly
delicacies, we might easily imagine, from the
picture here given, that the way a turtle gets
over the ground is by flying, his outstretched
feet and nippers serving him for wings. This
advertisement is brief,—on the principle that
good wine needs no bush. We are merely
informed that turtle-soup, cutlets, and broiled
fins, are to be had from mid-day till sunset.
There is no occasion for the hotel
proprietor to waste his money in commending
wares such as these. The picture and
the hour of consummation would have been
enough.

It as well that invalids should be told, that
at No. 76, in the Street of Maipú, the milk
of an ass "recently confined" (recien parida)
is always on sale; but the woodcut attached
to the advertisement makes the fact appear
doubtful; for a sturdier male animal than
the "burro" there depicted, was never painted
by Morland or Gainsborough. This, however,
may arise from the necessity which exists for
one of a sort doing duty for all. But there is
another singularity in this advertisement.
With no line to indicate a fresh subject, as
is the case in every other instance, the
portrait of the ass is always followed by the
words "Long live the Confederation! Death
to the Unitarians!" (Mueran los Unitarios!)
These lines have puzzled us; and we hesitate
to give the only explanation that strikes us:
—something disrespectful, in short, to the
Confederation of Buenos Ayres.

It is not only the slaves that run away in
that part of South America: the infection
extends to dogs, horses, and oxen, all of
which, like Caliban, seem for ever on the
look out to "have a new master, get a new
man," to hunt, ride, or drive them. There is
a daily column, headed "Perdida," in which
long-tailed horses, with flowing manes, pointers
in immoveable attitudes, for ever pointing,
and sinister-looking bulls—thorough-paced
gamblers, always ready for pitch-and-toss—
are advertised as having left their owners,
who strive to win them back by rewards
varying from twenty to fifty dollars. In all
these cases the missing animals are described
as having "disappeared" (desaparecido)—a
mild term for "stolen;" it being the Spanish
custom to refrain from "wounding ears
polite"—except when the blood is up; then,
indeed, they may take the field against Uncle
Toby's army, that swore so terribly in
Flanders.

This delicate mode of appealing to the
consciences of thieves—which, carried fairly
out, would probably bear a strong
resemblance in the end to the politeness of Mr.
Chucks,—is extended to property of all
kinds. A large watch, of the genus turnip,
the hands pointing to half-past eleven, the
time, perhaps, when the robbery is supposed
to have taken place, and accompanied by
the expressive word "Ojo" (look sharp) thrice
repeated, indicates, what the advertisement
soon plainly tells, that from No. 69, in
Emerald-street, there have "disappeared" a
valuable lot of articles, which give a very
good idea of the turn-out of a well-mounted
horseman in South America. There are, first,
several pairs of large silver spurs—and a pair
of Spanish spurs, when melted down, would
make a decent service of plate,—quite enough
for a "testimonial" to ourselves; and then
come braided headstalls and bridles, with
twisted chains and cavessons of silver; the
reins hung with silver-bells, and decorated
with silver bosses, and the bits and curbs
heavily mounted with the same costly metal.
This robbery has been evidently "a put-up
thing," for there is no word of housebreaking,
—merely a disappearance; and all silversmiths,
pawnbrokers, and the public in general,
are entreated (se suplica à los, &c.) to detain
the articles, if offered, and a reward of two
hundred dollars will be given. Perhaps the
gentlemen who caused the horses to
disappear have taken this mode of procuring
caparisons!

Quack-medicine vendors are not wanting in
Buenos Ayres to render important services to
humanity (importantisimo à la humanidad).
Two magnificent cut-glass decanters, gigantic
in proportion to a tree of wondrous virtues
which stands between them, are stated to be
full of a healing medicine, which will do the
business of all whom the faculty have given
up or are otherwise incurable as effectually
as Parr's Life Pills or Holloway's Ointment.
The chief establishment for the sale of this
elixir is very carefully pointed out; and for
the benefit of future travellers we may
mention, that it is to be found at No. 496 in
the street of Cangallo, and in the very last
door on the left-hand side, behind the windmill;
and that in the court-yard of the house
there is a garden filled with statues, of which
the originals are probably defunct; but
whether the elixir out of the two large
decanters had anything to do with this
apotheosis, we refrain from conjecturing.

The preceding advertisements are the most
noticeable for embellishment and style. The
ordinary kind of wants are set forth with
woodcuts and text of a less striking kind, but
almost all are illustrated. Wine, has a barrel
for its sign; music, a violin; travelling, a
carriage; gardening, a flower-pot; upholstery,
a chair; the cobbler's mystery, a top-boot;
the hatter's, a beaver; and the letter of
lodgings, a house full of windows. Not all of
them are confined to the Spanish language;
for there are many English merchants and
traders, and to accommodate the last, a notice
like the following recommends the aforementioned
Street of Piety:—

"To Det. To roms in altos one Squaz from
the Place of Victory."