Ocean which is separated from the harbor by a hill in the shape of a whaleback. At the western end of the harbor is the cerro which marks the mouth of the La Plata and which is the only hill worthy of the name until that of Lambaré is reached one thousand miles up the river, the landmark for Asuncion. The whaleback is the business part of the city, although the shopping district has now a tendency to spread more eastward. The gradient to the top of the whaleback on which lies the Calle Sarandi, one of the principal streets of the city, is gentle, but yet I have several acquaintances who refused to walk it, preferring to go from the docks to the Plaza Matriz in a taxicab. One of these men is Mr. Oliver H. Lane, formerly of Washington before that city was made "dry," but who, because that calamity befell the National Capital, moved to Boston. One day in December, 1915, he, Packer, and I started from the docks uptown on foot. After we had gone two blocks, Lane planted his back against the wall of a building and said:

"What do you take me for? Do you think I want to walk to Paraguay?"

As there were no taxicabs around, Packer and I were obliged to walk about three-quarters of a mile to the Plaza Matriz to get one to return for Lane, whom we found in the same identical spot with his back still against the wall.

Montevideo ranks according to the tonnage of vessels entering and clearing its harbor as the ninth port in the world, surpassing all South American cities in this respect. Until about fifty years ago, it was the metropolis of the La Plata watershed. About that time Buenos Aires passed it, and to-day the population of the Argentine metropolis is four times larger. Montevideo has a fine harbor; Buenos Aires has none. The Uruguayan back country is richer than the country behind Buenos Aires. Montevideo has a wonderful climate, cool, invigorating, with a fresh breeze always blowing; Buenos Aires has a humid, enervating, somewhat depressing climate. With these natural superiorities, one would think Montevideo would outrank Buenos Aires but not so. Buenos Aires has always had a spirit of progression, which has become contagious and has spread to Rosario, and to Bahia Blanca; Montevideo has always been conservative, entirely wrapped in herself, indifferent to other cities. Uruguay, which is the smallest republic in South America, has an area of only 72,210 square miles, not as large as the province of Buenos Aires alone. Of its population of 1,042,668 inhabitants, one half live within a radius of twenty miles from the center of the city of Montevideo. The difference between Buenos Aires and Montevideo is so great that it is difficult to realize that they are separated only by a night's run of 190 knots.

The topography of the city is a succession of low hills which flank the harbor. They continue to the cerro, seven miles around the semi-circular harbor, and on their sides and summits are built a succession of villages not included in the incorporation limits of Montevideo. On the cerro rise the whitewashed houses of the town of Villa del Cerro, while at its bottom slopes near the La Plata mouth there is a large eucalyptus grove of dark green color, a landmark for many miles at sea.

There was but little building done in Montevideo between the years 1912 and 1916; in fact I could see no change, although I have no doubt but that the population is increasing on a normal scale. The monotony of the appearance of the residential streets is impressing. Each street has the same cobblestone pavement; on each street there are sycamore trees between the pavement and the sidewalk; the houses are mostly the same, one and two stories high, built of the same material and offering absolutely no contrast in architecture, in size, or color to the thousands like them in the Uruguayan metropolis. This same condition must have existed since the Colonial times, because one writer, whose book written about 1830 I recently read, said in his description of Montevideo that on account of the great similarity of the houses and absence of street numbers, drunken men frequently mistook houses of other people for their own and entered them at different times of the day and night causing much embarrassment and confusion.

The residences of the wealthier inhabitants do not have this monotonous uniformity. They are villas, set back from the street in large gardens and lawns, enclosed by low brick walls. In architecture they are light and resemble the houses of the aristocracy of Rio de Janeiro. Compared with the palatial homes of the Buenos Aires millionaires they are inexpensive. The Avenida Agraciada is the main residential street, but the Avenida Brazil in the suburb of Pocitos has many fine homes, some of which are the summer abodes of Argentinos who like to spend the hottest months of the summer by the seashore. The very finest mansion in the city is on the Plaza Zabala, the loafers' park, in the business section on the whaleback, and not far from the docks. It is owned by an Italian who wished to have his residence near to his place of business.