Dear Arthur,

How are you doing? Then again, I haven't written to you in a while. The last time Charles returned with a letter, I was still immersed in the massacre that the Argentine butcher Rosas had unleashed against the Indians. Therefore, when Charles asked me if I wanted to write a letter, I did not ask him to hand over my letterhead to the merchant ship bound for Britain.

But that doesn't mean I've forgotten about you, I certainly remember you bad boys eating and drinking spicy food in London. Attend various banquets and salons in high society, soak in young and beautiful chicks, taste all kinds of exotic foods from all over the world, and drink a variety of high-end wines imported from France.

You must have had a good time, so I wasn't going to spoil you at that time. I, Elder Carter, am not an incomprehensible fellow, and although I spend my days like a rat nesting in the cabin, I still have to be happy. The world is pretty fucked up, do you have to make me pout my ass to cater to him? Hahaha!

Arthur, you must know how I'm feeling right now. That's right, I've come out of my feelings of loss. Fuck off Rosas, fuck the Argentines, of course, I don't mean to insult all the Argentine populace, but the guys who willingly act as the executioners of the slaughter for him.

Well...... As for why I am writing this letter to you on a whim today...... Haha, don't laugh at me, Arthur. It was because Alexander had written to me that he had said that you were dead, that you had a shot in Liverpool, and then that you had someone shoot through the heart under the Tower of London.

I have to say that this fat man who floated from France is not looking forward to your good at all, and his character cannot be put on the table. I have to admit that his story is very well written, the scenes and details are very realistic, but it is an absurd film without any basis after all, so I won't believe his nonsense.

Still, reading between the lines of the fat man, I can read that you may have been in a low mood lately. Maybe it's because of the beer that made people splash when they picked up girls? Please, man, why do you care about this little thing? Women, there are everywhere, and it won't take that long to start a sincere relationship again.

But when I think about it, you don't look like a guy who would struggle with picking up girls. Is that because the work has not been going well lately? Suppressed by that old guy from Rowan? If that's the case, Arthur, you'll have to blame yourself.

I told you to come aboard with me and see the beautiful scenery of the world, meet some exotic beauties, and see dolphins and sharks, ahem...... Although these two species are not much to see.

Of course, circumnavigating the world is not without merit. For example, on our trip to Argentina, although we encountered a lot of unpleasantness on the road, we still think back to it that happy times still account for most of them.

The culture and people of South America are crazy. Do you know the gauchos here? They were a type of Indians, and all of them were master horse trainers. No matter how wild the horses are, in their hands, they will be tamed in less than a week.

Here, the horse must learn to run at full speed and stop abruptly in any unexpected situation before it can be completely tamed. According to their standards, they rode a horse to the wall with all their might, then tightened the reins and ordered the horse to raise its front legs and brake, at which point the horse's hooves must be exactly against the wall in order to be considered fully trained.

I'll take a ticket from any of these gauchos to the equestrian competition in the derby, and they'll all come out on top. But the people here also have a quirk when it comes to taming horses, and that is that they think it's ridiculous to train and ride mares.

But in Europe, we usually think that stallions are not easy to control if they are not gelding, but after geldings become eunuchs, they are not as good as they used to be. Therefore, it is better to ride mares, because they are docile and do not run at a low speed.

But I have to admit that the big names usually like to take risks and ride grumpy stallions, such as the stallion 'Copenhagen' who rode the Duke of Wellington for 17 hours in Waterloo. Although the newspapers had written a great deal about this famous horse, I had heard from some people that this grumpy fellow had almost kicked His Excellency the Duke in the head at the end of the battle. Thankfully, he didn't succeed in the end, otherwise I would suggest that the French should have chosen him king.

Of course, as the Duke of Wellington's greatest rival, Napoleon also liked such short-tempered horses, such as the grey thoroughbred Arabian horse 'Virgil' given to him by the Ottoman Sultan, and the British Limousin horse that he rode when he retreated from the defeat of Russia, and the maroon 'Waltley'. However, at the Battle of Waterloo, he chose the most secure guy, and he rode a pure white mare named after his first love, 'Desirée'.

But whatever Napoleon thought, anyway, in the gauchos' conception, they would never ride a mare, but would only use the mare to harvest wheat and slaughter the skins. Here, a complete horseskin costs only five dollars, which is about half a crown, or a quarter of a pound.

A local butcher proudly told me that he could kill and skin twenty-two horses a day, and at most fifty horses in a day. But I think he's bragging, because it's a huge amount of work, and it's a good day to be able to skin and dry fifteen or sixteen horses in general.

But in any case, in the past six months, I have had the opportunity to get a glimpse of the character of the local residents through my contact with them. The gauchos, or countrymen, are usually much better behaved than those who live in towns.

They can sometimes make you feel uncomfortable, but that's due to their helpful, courteous and hospitable nature. I've never been rude or indifferent. They are gentle, respectful of themselves and their country, and full of energy and courage.

But on the other hand, the probability of robberies and bloodshed is too frequent. The custom of carrying a knife with you is the main reason for the latter. Too many people die in trivial quarrels, which often turn into fights, where they try to leave a scar on each other's face every time they make a move, and the knife is always aimed at the nose and eyes, as can be seen from the deep and ugly scars on many people's faces.

Robbery is an inevitable consequence of gambling, alcoholism and extreme laziness. When I was in Mercedes, I asked the two poor guys why they didn't have jobs. One of the guys told me in all seriousness that the days were too long for him, and the other said that he didn't have a job because he was too poor.

The words of these two guys amused me instantly, and I realized that it was difficult to make people diligent in a condition of beautiful scenery, many horses, and abundant food. In addition, there are so many festivals here, and while I don't hate that, because more festivals mean that there is a reason to celebrate every day, I have to say, it also leads to a month or two of the year being wasted.

In addition, the police and law enforcement efficiency here is at a fairly low level, which is not at all comparable to the Scotland Yard where you are on an errand. I have no doubt that if you arrive at this place, you will be immediately appointed as the supreme magistrate of the land.

Here, if a poor man kills someone and is caught, he will be locked up, or even killed on the spot. But if it's a rich man and he happens to have friends, then you know, he doesn't have to worry about any serious consequences for killing.

The strangest thing is that the local residents of high moral standing will help the murderer escape. They seem to think that crimes are against the government, not at the common people. Travelers have nothing but their own weapons. Therefore, if you want to travel to South America one day, it is absolutely necessary to carry a weapon with you.

The educated upper class in the cities may be as virtuous as the gauchos, if not slightly inferior to them, but I think they are also tainted with many vices that the gauchos absolutely do not have. Extravagance, contempt for religion and gross corruption are far from unique.

Before I came to South America, I thought Britain was bad enough, but compared to it, Britain seems to be heaven, and the moral water code of Argentine and Chilean officialdom is comparable to the sewage outlet of the Thames.

As far as I can see, all public officials here can be bribed. That's right, I'm talking about all. Because I found out that the head of the post office here was peddling counterfeit government fiat currency, and the provincial ministers and prime ministers were openly usurping the country's resources and land.

Every law enforcement process is mixed with more or less monetary transactions, so people here never expect justice or fairness. I met an English merchant in Montevideo, and he told me an anecdote about his first arrival.

He had just arrived and didn't know much about the local situation, so he was deceived while doing business. He consulted a lawyer in the usual British way of thinking about how he should prosecute the fraudster, but the lawyer told him that he just had to stuff some money into the justice.

When he went to see the Chancellor, he did not know the customs of the place, and when he walked into the office, his legs trembled, and he stammered the facts of the case, and then said, "Sir, please accept these two hundred dollars, and I hope that you will catch the man who deceived me before a certain time." I knew it was against the law, but it was my lawyer XXX who told me to do it. ”

The Chancellor smiled and acquiesced to the request, and politely thanked him for the money. As a result, before the merchant could return home, someone had already come to inform him that the man who had deceived him had been thrown into prison.

Tut-tut, in a country where even the high leaders are so unprincipled, and the officials who are lower than them receive extremely small salaries and are as restless as their superiors. But in such an environment, people think that democratic governments can succeed, which is simply ridiculous.

Of course, my impression of South America wasn't always so bad. When you first come into contact with the people of these countries, you will notice that there are two or three characteristics that stand out in particular. People of all classes were courteous and well-behaved, the ladies were very tastefully groomed, and people of all classes were treated equally with each other, and they were not as hierarchical as Britain.

While we were resting on the banks of the Colorado River, a few humble shopkeepers said they often shared a table with General Rosas, who was stationed nearby. In Puerto Blanca, the son of a major who smoked cigars for a living, wanted to accompany us to Buenos Aires, claiming to be a guide or a servant.

His father, however, objected to his son's decision, not because he felt disgraced as a guide and servant, but because he feared that we would encounter many dangers along the way. Many of the officers here could neither read nor write, but they were all equal in social situations, and there was no discrimination against illiteracy as in Britain.

In the parliament of Entre Ríos, there were only six councillors, and one of them was not a big deal, but only a small grocery store that could be found everywhere. But he doesn't seem to be looked down upon by other parliamentarians because of his less property. These circumstances may seem strange to us Britons, but this is the curious common denominator of the emerging nations, which lack a class of gentlemen with professional knowledge and therefore no over-ingrained notion of hierarchy.

Yes, I don't really hate these South American countries, and I even envy them in some places. Most of them had just won independence from their overlord, Spain, so we were often moved by the extreme liberalism that prevailed here, with tolerance for foreign religions, emphasis on education, freedom of the press, and convenience for all foreigners, especially those of us who had little to do with science.

The old man naturally has his advantage, because they usually have a lot of experience, and have eaten more salt than we have ever seen of sand, so they usually do things in a steady manner. But young people also have the spirit of young people, and we really don't understand anything, but so what? We can do whatever we want, maybe some things are really dangerous, but there are more people who try, and there will always be one or two who will succeed if they hit the big luck.

This description is also very apt in the context of the country, and those who have spent their entire lives in Britain will certainly not be able to imagine how the people of South America as a whole live. Everything here is crazy for them, the endless savannah, the countless cattle and sheep and the large pieces of barbecue, the gauchos who treat you as friends when they meet, the legal system that is nothing, and the robbers and robbers who can come out of anywhere at any time.

Alack! This is the wonderful South America, with its crazy people and wild animals, where the gentlemen of Britain will have their fashionable breeches torn by wild horses in just one day, and the ladies who will faint a hundred and eighty times a day when they come here. Of course, that's not all I like the most, but also ...... Oh, I mean the local girls, I love them.

Of course, the premise of love is that they should not have provoked a skunk recently. Believe me, Arthur, even the most loyal hound was yelled at to chase it, and the courage of the slightest drop of skunk oil vanished without a trace, followed by a violent nausea, vomiting, and snort, which could be smelled even from a mile away. So I can say with a pretty high degree of certainty that all the animals in South America are happy to give way to skunks.

See, Arthur, even though you are very erudite, and you are the most distinguished history graduate of our University of London, there are still many things in this world that you do not know. You should get out of Britain and go around the world, or I, an uneducated fellow, will surpass you.

Haha, I'm kidding, don't take it seriously. I will never be able to outperform you in erudition, because I have put my life's work into the study of women. Then again, Arthur, have you ever had an in-depth conversation with any of your favorite ladies so far?

Belch...... I'm not trying to get into your privacy, I don't have a hobby of that, you know, I'm a fair and honest guy. But...... People are always curious, aren't they?

And, moreover...... If you haven't even communicated and just walked away, then ...... Isn't it a pity?

Damn it! What the hell am I talking about? Blame the on Alexander, this fat man! This shitty story is so fucking real! Can he write some points and scripts to give him the ability to do this?

When I get back to London, I'm going to have to bang him twice and make a few cuts in his crotch, because that's the only way I can make him understand that making up stories costs the!

……

Arthur, will you write me back? I know you may be in a bad mood, but if you have time, just give me a reward. You can write anything, in bed, under bed, in Scotland Yard, or in the editorial office of "The British".

If you don't want to write any of this, even if you draw a bald head of Charles and send it to me, it's the easiest, you just need to draw an arc, you don't need to put any messy hair, he'll lose it sooner or later.

However, if ...... I mean, if ...... If you don't even want to send it to me, Arthur, I'll just let you die. But...... But I know it can't be, because you're definitely alive. Maybe you'll be sitting in your office at Scotland Yard right now, patting your belly and laughing and reading my letter to your subordinates.

You think to yourself, "Hah! Elder is so naïve, I'm ashamed to have gone to the same university as him. He believed all such obvious nonsense, and he would rather believe a Frenchman than believe that I was alive. No wonder this guy was tricked by a prostitute in Rio de Janeiro and didn't have a penny left. ”

You think I'm going to be angry about it?

Ha! Then you couldn't be more wrong!

Arthur, your friend, the noble and brave Mr. Elder Carter, is not such a stomachless fellow.

If you want to laugh at me, you'd better let me know I'm like a clown. That way, you'll have more fun.

Your alumni of the University of London, your fellow who has enjoyed high theatre, and the decaying darkness of Britain, the tenant who owes you two weeks' rent, the best friend of this life and the next, who has borrowed twenty pounds from you and has not yet repaid it, and will not consider repaying it unless you personally approach Elder Carter, whom you have to collect the debt from.

(End of chapter)