The Martins of the Dresden

On the cold winter's night of 23rd January 1889, the docks of Southampton were shaken by a momentous farewell. Hundreds of people gathered to say goodbye to the relatives travelling on the maiden voyage of the steamship SS Dresden, under this new migratory scheme of subsidised passages, bound for Buenos Aires—with a stop at Queenstown (now Cobh)—in search of a future that the agents' promises painted as prosperous and bright.

Among those travellers were two families who shared a surname and a story that, more than a century later, I shall begin to reconstruct with the information within my reach. These were the Martins.

Albert Martin, a carpenter and joiner aged thirty-nine, boarded the ship with his wife Eliza Jane and their four young children: Frederick, Edith, Jessie, and Eliza Rose. He was accompanied by his elder brother, Reuben Barker Martin, a bricklayer of forty-two, who travelled with his wife Sarah Ann and their six children, among them Charles William—Charlie, as he was called—a lad of seventeen who would soon share both roof and trade with his uncle Albert in the Argentine capital.

The Martin family's roots stretch back to the heart of Hampshire. Albert was born in 1851 in Brockenhurst, a small village nestled in the New Forest, and was baptised on 30th November of that year in the historic church of St Mary's, Southampton. His parents, Joseph and Mercy Martin, gave him a name that was fashionable in Victorian England. Reuben, the elder brother, was also born in Brockenhurst, in 1847.

By 1881, the English census provides a revealing snapshot of the lives of both brothers. Albert was residing in the district of Southampton St Mary, a dense and bustling area, and worked as a House Carpenter And Joiner 1st Class Army Reserve—that is, a first-class carpenter and joiner in the Army Reserve. This detail, seemingly minor, is significant: Albert was no mere civilian tradesman; he had received military training as an army carpenter, a distinction that undoubtedly conferred a higher status upon his craft. In this census he was already married to Eliza Jane, a native of Shirley, and they had two small children: Frederick A., aged one, and the newborn Edith F.

His brother Reuben, for his part, had achieved an even more prosperous position. In the 1881 census he is recorded as residing in South Stoneham, Hampshire, with the occupation Master Bricklayer & Grocer Employing 9 men & 4 boys. Reuben had diversified his business and become a small entrepreneur in the local construction and retail trade. He was married to Sarah Ann and they already had five children: Charles W., Amy C., William H., Emily E., and Jessie S. The 1871 census, a decade earlier, had placed them in Ashford, Middlesex, on the outskirts of London, where Reuben, then twenty-four, worked as a simple bricklayer.

The decision to emigrate to Argentina in 1889, despite the economic stability they had achieved, remains something of a puzzle. Perhaps the promises of land and railway contracts in South America, spread by immigration agents and the press, led them to believe they might expand their horizons on an even grander scale. What is certain is that, in early 1889, both families sold what they possessed and embarked upon the adventure.

The Letter

The SS Dresden arrived in the River Plate on 15th February 1889, after nineteen days at sea. What followed the disembarkation comes to us thanks to the letter that Albert Martin wrote on 10th March 1889 to a lady friend in Southampton, which was published some weeks later in the local newspaper, the Southampton Observer and Hampshire News.

Albert's account is one of the most vivid and unsparing descriptions of the immigrant experience in Argentina. The so-called Immigrants' Hotel, in the port of Buenos Aires, was "the most filthy, miserable place it has ever been my lot to live in". Upon their arrival, the premises were crammed with four thousand Italians who had landed in the previous two days. "There was no provision made for us, and no accommodation of any sort. They managed to get us some food about six in the evening, and that is about all the attention we received." Hundreds of men, women, and children spent the night in the open air, on the pavement of the courtyard or the tables of the dining shed. "Everybody was hungry, wretched, but fortunately not cold."

The following day, upon occupying the vacant berths left by the departing Italians, they encountered "rats, mice, bugs, fleas, and those other most unmentionable abominations with grey backs, and a wonderful liking for human bodies". On the fifth day, everyone was turned out of the hotel, whether they had anywhere to go or not.

Despite the chaos, Albert quickly found work in a large carpenter's workshop with modern machinery, and his wage of three dollars a day (about seven shillings and sixpence at the exchange rate of the time) was among the best an English tradesman could hope for. Yet the real ordeal was finding lodgings for a family. After two days of fruitless searching, he came upon "two little rooms, a small charcoal stove cooking-place, and a back yard about eight feet by eight feet", for which he paid thirty-four dollars a month, in advance, and without a single shelf, cupboard, or nail upon which to hang his hat.

His brother Reuben, meanwhile, had obtained a post as foreman bricklayer on the construction of a new railway in Córdoba, about a thousand miles from the capital, thanks to the recommendation of Viscount de Bondy, the French ambassador. One of Reuben's daughters went to live with the diplomat's family, and his son Charlie, aged seventeen, remained in Buenos Aires, working and living with his uncle Albert.

Albert's letter is also a settling of accounts with the official propaganda that had driven them to emigrate: "The papers on which most of us founded our hopes, at Southampton and other places, and the plausible tales told us, are nothing but a tissue of falsehoods, and a mean, contemptible, and a cruel fraud, as hundreds of these poor people (both English and Irish) have found to their cost."

And yet his practical spirit prevails at the end: "With perseverance, and a determination to overcome obstacles, I really think that the fortune I am to return to Southampton to find, though still in the far distant future, is not altogether unattainable."

Until now, Albert Martin's letter was merely an anonymous testimony, a tale of despair without a face. But the combination of the SS Dresden passenger list with the Argentine National Census of 1895 has allowed us to identify the family and to reconstruct their daily life in the country.

The Argentine census shows the Martins scattered across Cuartel 04, the rural population of the district of Morón, to the west of Greater Buenos Aires. Albert, his name Hispanicised as "Alberto", is listed as single—a likely census error, given that he was working away from home—and worked as a carpenter. His wife Eliza, aged forty, and their youngest daughter Eliza Rose, aged just nine, were employed as cooks in the home of an English family, the Bournes.

The head of that household was Arthur Mason Bourne, an English mining engineer who had arrived in Argentina around 1887 and who, in 1895, would publish an adventure novel entitled A Mystery of the Cordillera: A Tale of Adventure in the Andes. Working alongside the Bournes was Mary Fitzpatrick, a young Irishwoman of twenty-three who had travelled on the same voyage of the Dresden as the Martins. Her presence confirms the existence of a dense network of British and Irish immigrants who supported one another in the Morón area.

Albert's eldest son, Frederick, aged fifteen, worked as a labourer on the estate of the Balfour family, in the same rural area of Morón. The Balfours—Nelly, aged twenty-six, and her young children Frank and Dolly—were a family of Scottish origin who owned land in what would become the heart of the prestigious Hurlingham Club, founded in 1888 on the initiative of John Ravenscroft and supported by families such as the Robsons, the Campbells, and the Drysdales.

The dispersal of the Martin family—Albert working as a carpenter on rural building projects, Eliza and little Eliza Rose as cooks, and Frederick as a labourer on an estate—reveals a survival strategy typical of immigrants: every member, even the children, contributed whatever they could to keep the household afloat.

Despite having managed to integrate themselves into the British community of Morón, the Argentine adventure of the Martins did not prosper. Without knowing the exact date or how they obtained the means or managed the journey home, I did find in the United Kingdom census records that by 1901, Albert, Eliza, and their daughters were already back in England.

The census of that year places them in Shirley, Hampshire, the very village where Eliza Jane had been born. If I close my eyes, I can imagine her father giving them a helping hand and welcoming them back. I picture an immense emotional blow, given that what they had envisioned in Buenos Aires had not worked out. Lost years. Frustration. Sorrow. Returning with their heads hung low. That is only my imagining.

Albert, now fifty, had resumed his trade of Carpenter & Joiner. His daughter Eliza Rose, fifteen, was working as a dressmaker's apprentice. Little Jessie, who in 1889 had been five years old, now appears as Elsie L. Martin, aged seventeen. The elder children, Frederick and Edith, are not listed in the household: they had probably already become independent or were working as servants in other homes.

Also living in the house was a widow of eighty-two, Sarah Ballard, as a boarder, which suggests the Martins were renting out a room to earn extra income.

Might Sarah have been the lady who received Albert's letter?

Reuben, the elder brother, also returned to England. The 1911 census shows him at sixty-four in Milton, Hampshire, together with his wife Sarah Ann, to whom he had been married for forty-four years. His occupation was given as Builder, and they lived alone, a sign that their children had already set up homes of their own. The American adventure was definitively behind them.

One of the more curious findings of this investigation was the existence of two contradictory records for Albert Martin in the Argentine immigration database. In one, he appears as Albert Martin, aged thirty-nine, married, carpenter, embarked at Southampton. In the other, he appears as Albert Martin, aged twenty-six, single, labourer, embarked at Queenstown.

This duplication, far from casting doubt, confirms the administrative error we suspected. The SS Dresden had sailed from Southampton on 25th January and made a stop at Queenstown, Ireland, the following day to collect hundreds of Irish passengers. Upon disembarkation in Buenos Aires, Argentine officials often recorded the last European port of call rather than the passenger's actual port of origin. The first record, the one indicating Southampton and carpenter, is the correct one. The second is a bureaucratic error, likely committed when processing a group of passengers en masse.

This administrative detail, which might otherwise have gone unnoticed, serves as further proof of the reliability of the investigation as a whole and of the identification of Albert Martin as the author of the letter.

The story of the Martin brothers is a microcosm of the great European migratory epic to Argentina in the nineteenth century. Albert and Reuben represent those thousands of British tradesmen who, lured by promises of prosperity, left behind a modest but stable life to seek their fortune on the pampas.

Unlike many others, the Martins had the opportunity to return, and they did not let it slip away. By 1901, Albert was back in Hampshire, taking up his carpenter's trade once more and watching his daughter begin her apprenticeship as a dressmaker. Reuben, the prosperous master bricklayer who had once employed nine men and four boys before his departure, also returned and continued to work as a builder well into his old age.

Their story is a reminder that emigration was not always a one-way journey with no return. For many, the "American dream" turned into a nightmare of overcrowding, low wages, and disease. And for others, like the Martins, the solution was to pack their bags and go back home, bearing with them the scars of an adventure that, despite everything, left an indelible mark upon their family history.

Albert Martin's letter, rescued from the pages of the Southampton Observer, still resonates today, more than a century later, as a living testimony of that experience. And thanks to the cross-referencing of censuses, immigration records, and newspapers of the period, I have been able to imagine a face and to weave theories and thoughts about one of the protagonists.

The truth is that this story requires the descendants of the Martins of the Dresden to shed light upon these unknowns. While these matters fall within the private sphere of the family, being able to understand the reality of those days through letters containing first-hand accounts of impressions, thoughts, sorrows, and so forth, makes it possible to construct history from the authority of the testimony of the ship's own descendants.

Searching for the author of the letter

After meticulously reviewing the passenger list of the SS Dresden, I have found a family group that matches the description of the sender of the letter of 10th March 1889 in an exceptional manner.

The primary candidate is Albert Martin, a thirty-nine-year-old carpenter travelling with his wife Eliza and their young children. Yet the key lies with his brother Reuben Martin, who also travelled on the same ship.

The exact records for the entire Martin family, extracted from the Dresden database, are as follows:

Record 1: The family of Albert Martin (Page 30 of the list)

• Albert Martin: 39 years, married, carpenter.

• Eliza Martin: 38 years, married.

Children:

• Frederick (9)

• Edith (7)

• Jessie (5)

• Eliza Rose (3)

Record 2: The family of Reuben Martin (Page 31 of the list)

• Reuben Martin: 42 years, married, bricklayer.

• Sarah Ann Martin: 44 years, married.

Children:

• Charles William Martin: 17 years. This is "Charlie, the son" from the letter!

• Ann Constance (15)

• William Henry (13)

• Emily E. (11)

• Jessie S. (9)

• Archibald (6)

The details given in the published letter present several highly significant coincidences, which I outline below:

Detail from the letter

Looking for coincidence in the Dresden registry with some clues of the letter I found:

• The author is a carpenter or joiner earning three dollars a day. -> Albert Martin is listed as "carpenter".
• The author mentions that his brother obtained work as a "foreman bricklayer" . -> Reuben Martin is listed as "bricklayer". The difference in age (39 versus 42) places them as brothers.
• The author states that his brother has daughters (one went to live with Viscount de Bondy) and a son named Charlie who lives and works with him. -> Reuben Martin has three teenage daughters and a seventeen-year-old son named Charles William Martin.
• The author travelled on the steamship Dresden and arrived in Buenos Aires on 15th February 1889. -> Both Martin families are listed with an arrival date of 15/02/1889, yet only Albert the carpenter is recorded as having embarked at Southampton; the rest of the family are listed at Queenstown (which suggests a possible administrative error or data-entry oversight).
• The newspaper describes him as a "well-known" former resident of Southampton. -> Although not specified in the record, the fact that two large families of skilled artisans emigrated together may suggest that they had roots and perhaps a business or reputation in the city. It is merely an idea, but at this stage of the investigation, I include it.

The Dresden records confirm in a highly suggestive, and nearly unequivocal, manner that the author of the first letter was Albert Martin. His story, and that of his brother Reuben and his nephew Charlie, accord perfectly with the detailed account of the crossing, the hardships in the Immigrants' Hotel, and the search for work in Buenos Aires.

From this testimony, several key lines of enquiry emerge.

What struck me most is that, when speaking of the colony proposal, there is someone who "strongly advised" him against embarking upon that project. Why, if it was presented as a solution, did someone—who I imagine would have been a member of the British immigration committee—"strongly advise" him not to go?

I have the sense, from this letter and from that of Mr and Mrs Clarke, who settled in Temperley, that the immigrants of the Dresden who came from Southampton arrived better prepared and were therefore assessed in a manner more in keeping with the norm.

On the Irish side, a great many of them were also taken on quickly within the first week of being in Buenos Aires, given that only eight hundred ultimately boarded the train for Napostá. Might they also have been advised, like Mr Martin, not to embark upon the Colony project?

On that first day of the initial meeting, it was agreed that Mr Drysdale would adopt a cautious stance and proposed postponing any definitive decisions for a few days—something the committee ultimately did, because it did not yet proceed with Gartland's proposal (and the truth is that Gartland had not fully closed the proposal either).

On the very day the Dresden anchored in Buenos Aires, two members of the committee went aboard the ship to "see" the immigrants: Messrs Johnston and Carroll.

These are merely ideas that we need to shed light upon with new discoveries and further material.

Onwards!

Una carta y más pistas

Esta es la nota publicada en el Southampton Observer and Hampshire News el 20 de abril de 1889. La rescato en este este anexo por la importancia y la riqueza de su testimonio.

20 ABR 1889 - SOUTHAMPTON OBSERVER CARTAS IMPORTANTES DE EMIGRANTES DE SOUTHAMPTON A BUENOS AIRES

La siguiente carta, escrita por un antiguo y conocido vecino de Southampton que emigró a Buenos Aires hace unos tres meses, y dirigida a un amigo en Southampton, nos ha sido entregada para su publicación en el *Southampton Observer*

Buenos Aires, 10 de marzo de 1889.

Querida Sra. ———.—Sin duda estará usted esperando recibir noticias de nosotros, los exiliados, sobre cómo hemos progresado hasta ahora y un relato de nuestro viaje, etc. He llevado un registro fiel de todo ello en mi libreta de bolsillo, anotando los diversos acontecimientos —interesantes o no— a medida que ocurrían. Me permito guardarlos allí hasta mi próxima carta, que seguirá pronto a esta. En esta me limitaré a los sucesos ocurridos desde nuestra llegada, deteniéndome solo para expresar nuestra profunda gratitud por la espléndida despedida que nos dispensaron en los muelles de Southampton, cuando nos despedimos de tantos amigos queridos y también de la vieja patria. Lamento mucho no haber podido distinguir su rostro entre los miles de caras reunidas allí. Lo sentí profundamente, pues me habría gustado mucho ver a una amiga tan querida en ese último momento.

Tuvimos un viaje espléndido (cuyos detalles recibirá usted más adelante) y echamos ancla en el río de la Plata a la 1 de la tarde del 15 de febrero. Desembarcamos el 16 a las 10:50 de la mañana en un pequeño vapor fluvial, en el que aún tuvimos que recorrer otras catorce millas. Vimos al *Atrato* en cuarentena, del que afortunadamente nos libramos, pues llevábamos un certificado de sanidad limpio. Llegamos al muelle de desembarque (no se puede llamar embarcadero) alrededor de la 1 de la tarde y nos condujeron a lo que llaman el Hotel de Inmigrantes, el lugar más sucio y miserable en el que me ha tocado vivir.

Habían desembarcado 4.000 italianos en los dos días anteriores a nuestra llegada, el lugar estaba lleno y, como no nos esperaban hasta varios días después, no había ninguna previsión para nosotros ni ningún tipo de alojamiento. Lograron darnos algo de comida alrededor de las 6 de la tarde y eso fue toda la atención que recibimos. No teníamos dónde dormir ni adónde ir; de hecho, no era seguro alejarse demasiado. Muchas mujeres y niños pasaron la noche sobre las mesas y bancos del comedor; cientos de nosotros dormimos en el pavimento del patio abierto; otros cientos caminaron por las calles. Todos estábamos hambrientos y desdichados, pero afortunadamente no hacía frío.

Al día siguiente conseguimos techo, pues varios italianos se habían marchado; ocupamos sus literas vacías (miserables armazones de madera, parecidas a las de los buques pero sin colchón ni nada). Como nuestro equipaje de cama había quedado con el resto del equipaje a bordo del “Dresden” y no nos llegó hasta el jueves siguiente, tuvimos que conformarnos con lo que había, y lo que había era malo. Había ratas, ratones, chinches, pulgas y esos otros bichos innombrables de espalda gris que tienen una afición extraordinaria por el cuerpo humano. ¡Uf! No le contaré más sobre este lugar inmundo.

Por malo que fuera, tuvimos que quedarnos allí hasta encontrar trabajo o habitaciones en hoteles, algo que la gran mayoría de nosotros no podía permitirse. Las mujeres y muchachas solteras fueron tomadas de inmediato, y también la mayoría de los hombres solteros. Yo no tuve mucha dificultad para encontrar trabajo, pero la paga no se parece en nada a lo que nos habían prometido, y conseguir alojamiento para familias es casi imposible. Los sufrimientos de algunas mujeres y niños desde el desembarco han sido terribles, y de no ser por la bondad de unos pocos residentes ingleses e irlandeses habrían muerto de hambre, pues a todos nos echaron del hotel el quinto día, tuvieran o no adónde ir, y cada uno quedó abandonado a sus propios recursos.

Se formó apresuradamente un comité con los mencionados residentes ingleses, se habilitó un gran galpón de vacas con paja limpia para dormir, se repartió abundante comida y té para las mujeres y niños, leche, pan, etc., y se hicieron gestiones para conseguirles trabajo. Se organizó también un plan de colonización, se compró tierra y se envió a muchos de los que no encontraban otro empleo. A mí me aconsejaron fuertemente que no me sumara a ese plan, por lo que me quedé aquí.

Le adjunto un recorte de periódico (de un diario impreso aquí en inglés, *The Standard*), que habla de nuestra llegada y de lo felices que estamos. Pero temo, querida Sra. ———, que todos estos detalles desordenados y miserables la cansen, y sin duda usted ya habrá oído algo de todo esto, pues varios de nuestro grupo regresaron en el primer barco que pudieron conseguir.

Creo que ahora todos estamos ubicados de una forma u otra. Mi hermano consiguió un puesto de capataz de albañiles en un nuevo ferrocarril en Córdoba, a unas mil millas tierra adentro. Fue por recomendación del vizconde de Bondy, el embajador francés, con cuya hija mayor se fue a vivir. Su segunda hija está aquí con el jefe de oficina de la firma donde él trabaja, y Charlie, el hijo, está conmigo en la misma tienda y vive conmigo.

Yo mismo, como ya dije, no tuve mucha dificultad para encontrar trabajo para mí y para él, pero ¡qué dificultad para conseguir un lugar donde vivir! Mi patrón, que por cierto es inglés, mandó a un hombre que hablaba español conmigo para buscar alojamiento, y caminamos dos días sin éxito; nadie quería aceptar niños a ningún precio: esa es la costumbre aquí. Al fin encontramos este lugar donde estoy escribiendo: dos cuartitos, una pequeña cocina con estufa de carbón vegetal y un patio trasero de unos 8 pies por 8 pies, por el que tengo el privilegio de pagar 34 dólares al mes. No tengo un estante, un armario ni nada, ni siquiera un clavo donde colgar el sombrero por esa suma. Los pisos son de ladrillo y húmedos, pero el agua es buena, y eso es una bendición aquí, y el lugar es solo para nosotros. Sin duda lo haremos más confortable en cuanto pueda saldar las deudas que me he visto obligado a contraer. Aquí todos los alquileres se pagan por adelantado y por mes, y debo confesar que estaba casi en la ruina y se lo mencioné a mi nuevo patrón, quien, sin la menor vacilación, me entregó la suma que necesitaba.

Mi paga es de tres dólares por día, pagados quincenalmente; esa es más o menos la mejor paga que hay aquí. Un dólar vale actualmente 2 chelines y 6 peniques. Charlie gana 2½ dólares, y tenemos que proveer nuestros propios bancos de trabajo, nuestras propias prensas, ollas de cola, etc., y estas cosas cuestan aquí más de diez veces lo que valen en casa. Hay varios ingleses en nuestra tienda. Es un taller grande, con maquinaria de todo tipo, y creo que estaremos bastante cómodos aquí dentro de poco.

En cuanto a los precios de los artículos: compré un hombro de cordero en el mercado por doce centavos; también papas a un centavo cada una (100 centavos = un dólar). Manzanas, peras y duraznos a dos y tres centavos cada una. El pan cuesta dieciséis centavos el pan de 2 libras; el azúcar, 8 centavos la libra; el té, igual que en casa; el queso, cincuenta centavos la libra; el tocino, setenta y cinco centavos la libra; una lata de salmón, etc., setenta y cinco centavos; la manteca, lo mismo. Un traje que en East Street se compra por 35 chelines, aquí en una tienda barata cuesta £7 10s.; un sombrero de 5 chelines y 11 peniques se vende aquí por siete dólares cincuenta centavos. Me ofrecieron una cama de hierro usada y común por cuarenta y seis dólares. Rechacé la oferta, conseguí madera rústica en un depósito por £2 (dieciséis dólares) y armé un par de camas toscas para no dormir en el suelo húmedo. La parafina o kerosene cuesta veinticinco centavos el cuartillo. El carbón vegetal para la estufa, un dólar y medio el bushel. En realidad, lo único barato aquí es la carne y el té, pero las piernas y hombros de cordero pesan solo dos o tres libras. Casi todos los demás artículos tienen un precio enorme; en realidad, los periódicos en los que la mayoría de nosotros basamos nuestras esperanzas en Southampton y otros lugares, y las historias plausibles que nos contaron, no son más que una sarta de mentiras, un fraude vil, despreciable y cruel, como cientos de estas pobres personas (tanto ingleses como irlandeses) han descubierto a su costa.

Es cierto que hay trabajo suficiente, pero la paga no guarda proporción con el costo de la vida. Un peón aquí gana solo alrededor de un dólar por día. Un pintor inglés ha entrado a trabajar en nuestro taller por dos dólares diarios. Muchos hombres trabajan en los nuevos muelles, canteras de piedra y estancias por un dólar y medio o dos dólares. Un hombre soltero puede vivir bastante bien con eso, pero usted puede imaginarse lo que significa para un hombre con familia.

Si usted, querida señora, oye que alguien piensa venir aquí, por el amor de Dios, intente disuadirlo. El país está invadido de alemanes, italianos, franceses, etc., y ellos han bajado el precio de la mano de obra a lo que le he dicho, y siguen llegando a razón de unas 2.000 personas por semana. Un inglés no tiene ninguna posibilidad aquí a menos que consiga trabajo con un patrón o capataz inglés, o a menos que hable el idioma. Sobre todo, que nadie venga si no trae dinero suficiente para cubrir sus gastos (que son muy elevados) hasta conseguir trabajo. Lo escribo con sentimiento.

Dejo mis impresiones sobre el país, etc., para mi próxima carta. El clima es simplemente espléndido, y doy gracias a Dios de que nuestra salud —hablo ahora de mi propia familia— es perfecta y nuestro ánimo es bueno. Creo que nos irá bien con el tiempo, en cuanto nos organicemos un poco y nos acostumbremos a las distintas circunstancias en las que nos encontramos. Las personas con las que hemos tenido contacto hasta ahora, ingleses y otros, han sido sumamente amables y dispuestas a ayudarnos de todas las formas posibles, y con perseverancia y determinación para superar los obstáculos, realmente creo que la fortuna que espero encontrar cuando regrese a Southampton, aunque todavía lejana en el futuro, no es del todo inalcanzable.

Pensamos a menudo en todos ustedes y confiamos en que gozan de buena salud y prosperidad. Estaremos más que agradecidos por cualquier noticia suya y de los acontecimientos que ocurren a su alrededor, pues todavía no nos hemos desprendido de las viejas asociaciones y el sentimiento del hogar sigue presente, de modo que puede estar segura de que cualquier comunicación será muy bienvenida. Y ahora, si su paciencia le ha permitido leer hasta aquí, me despido una vez más con los más cordiales saludos para todos, recuerdos a todos mis antiguos compañeros y con la grata expectativa de recibir pronto noticias suyas y de todos ustedes.

20 APR 1889 - SOUTHAMPTON OBSERVER CARTAS IMPORTANTES DE EMIGRANTES DE SOUTHAMPTON A BUENOS AIRES

The following letter, written by a former well-known resident of Southampton who emigrated to Buenos Ayres some three months ago, and addressed to a friend in Southampton, has been handed to us for publication in the *Southampton Observer*.

Buenos Ayres, 10th March, 1889.

"Dear Mrs. ———, You will, no doubt, be expecting a communication from us exiles, with news as to how we have progressed hitherto, and with an account of our voyage, &c., a faithful record of which I have kept in my pocket-book, chronicling the various events, interesting and otherwise, as they took place, and which I take leave to keep there until my next letter, which shall shortly follow this one. I must in this one confine myself to events since our arrival here, pausing only to express our deep gratification at the splendid farewell accorded us at Southampton Docks, when we bade farewell to so many kind friends, and also the old country, but I was sorry not to be able to distinguish yours amongst the many thousands of faces assembled there. I very much regretted this, as I should much have liked to have seen so dear a friend at the very last. We had a splendid voyage (the particulars of which you are to have later), and dropped anchor in the river La Plata at 1 p.m. on the 15th February, and disembarked on the 16th at 10.50 a.m. in a small river steamer, in which we had another fourteen miles to come. We saw the *Atrato* in quarantine, which we fortunately escaped, having a clean bill of health, and arrived at the landing-stage (can't call it a pier) about 1 p.m., and were then conducted to what they call the Immigrant's Hotel, the most filthy, miserable place it has ever been my lot to live in. There had been 4,000 Italians landed in the two days before we came, the place was full, and as we were not expected for several days, there was no provision made for us, and no accommodation of any sort. They managed to get us some food about 6 in the evening, and that is about all the attention we received. We had nowhere to sleep, and nowhere to go; in fact, it would not have been possible to go far safely. Lots of the women and children passed the night on the tables and forms in the dining shed, hundreds of us on the pavement of the open yard, hundreds of others walked the streets; everybody was hungry, wretched, but fortunately not cold. The next day we managed to get under shelter, a number of the Italians having left; we seized their vacant berths (miserable wooden affairs, something after the pattern of the ship berths, but without mattress or anything), and as, of course, our bedding had been left with our other baggage on board the *Dresden*, and did not reach us until the following Thursday, we had to make the best of it, and bad was the best. We had rats, mice, bugs, fleas, and those other most unmentionable abominations with grey backs, and a wonderful liking for human bodies. Ugh! I won't tell you any more about this filthy place. Bad as it was, we had to remain there until we got places to go to, or rooms at hotels, which of course the vast majority of us could not afford. The single women and girls were caught up at once, as also the single men, most of them. I had not much difficulty in finding work, but the pay is nothing like what we were led to expect, and lodgings for families are almost unobtainable. The sufferings of some of the women and children since landing have been dreadful, and but for the kindness of a few English and Irish residents they must have been starved, for everybody was turned out of the hotel on the fifth day, whether they had anywhere to go or not, and everyone was left entirely to their own resources. A committee was hastily formed of the aforesaid English residents, and a big cowshed provided and some clean hay for bedding, also plenty of food and tea for the women and children, milk, bread, &c., and exertions made to procure situations for them. A colonising scheme was formed, land purchased, and numbers of those who could not find any other employment were sent to it. I was strongly advised against this scheme, so remained here. I enclose a newspaper cutting (out of a paper printed here in English, *The Standard*), which speaks of our arrival here, and how happy we are. But I fear, dear Mrs. ———, that all these disjointed, miserable details will weary you, and, no doubt, you have heard already something of all this, for some of our party went back by the very next ship they could get. I think all of us are provided for now in one way or another. My brother got a berth as foreman bricklayer on a new railway in Córdoba, about a thousand miles up country. This was through the recommendation of Viscomte de Bondy, the French ambassador, with whom his eldest daughter is gone to live. His next eldest girl is here with the head clerk of the firm under whom he is employed, and Charlie, the son, is with me in the same shop, and lives with me. I myself, as I before said, had not much trouble to find work for myself and him, but oh! such a trouble to get a place to live in. My employer, an Englishman by the way, sent a man who could speak Spanish with me to hunt up a place, and we tramped about for two days without success; no one would take in children at any price; that is the custom here. At last we came across this place in which I am writing: two little rooms, a small charcoal stove cooking-place, and a back yard about 8 ft. by 8 ft., and for which I have the privilege of paying 34 dollars a month. I have not a shelf, cupboard, or anything, not even a nail to hang my hat up for this sum. The floors are brick, and damp, but the water is good, and that is a blessing here, and the place is to ourselves, and no doubt we shall make it more comfortable as soon as I can get rid of the debts I have been compelled to contract. All rents here are paid in advance, and by the month, and I must confess I was almost stranded, and mentioned that fact to my new employer, who, without the slightest hesitation, handed out the sum I needed. My pay is three dollars a day, paid fortnightly; that is about the best pay here. A dollar is at present worth 2s. 6d. Charlie gets 2½ dollars, and we have to supply our own benches to work on, our own cramps, glue pots, &c., and these things are more than ten times the price for which you can get them at home. There are several Englishmen in our shop. It is a large one, with machinery of every description, and I think we shall be pretty comfortable here presently. Now, as to the price of articles. I bought a shoulder of mutton in the market here for twelve cents; also potatoes at a cent each (100 cents to a dollar). Apples, pears, and peaches two and three cents each. Bread sixteen cents a 2 lb. loaf; sugar 8s. a pound; tea, same as at home; cheese, fifty cents a pound; bacon, seventy-five cents ditto; a tin of salmon, &c., seventy-five cents; butter, ditto. A suit of clothes, which you could buy in East-street for 35s., you may get here in a cheap shop for £7 10s.; a 5s. 11d. hat is sold here for seven dollars fifty cents. I am offered a secondhand common iron bedstead for forty-six dollars. I turn from that offer and get some rough wood from a yard here, and for which I pay £2, or sixteen dollars, and knock up a couple of rough bedsteads, just to keep us off the damp floor. Paraffin or kerosene twenty-five cents a quart. Charcoal, for our stove, a dollar and a half a bushel. In fact, the only things cheap here are meat and tea, but, as to the legs and shoulders of mutton, they only weigh two or three pounds. Almost all other articles are an enormous price; in fact, the papers on which most of us founded our hopes, at Southampton and other places, and the plausible tales told us, are nothing but a tissue of falsehoods, and a mean, contemptible, and a cruel fraud, as hundreds of these poor people (both English and Irish) have found to their cost. Granted, there is work enough, but then the pay is nothing compared to the price of living. A labourer here only gets about a dollar a day. An English painter has gone on to work at our place for two dollars a day. Numbers of men have gone to work at the new docks, the stone quarries, and farms for a dollar and a half or two dollars. A single man can live here very well on that, but you can at once see what it means for a man with a family. If you, dear Madame, hear of anyone likely to come here, do, for God's sake, try and prevent them. The place is overrun with Germans, Italians, French, &c., and they have brought the price of labour down to what I have stated, and they are still coming at the rate of about 2,000 a week. An Englishman has not any chance here except he can get work with an English employer (or foreman), or except he can speak the language. Above all, don't let anyone come unless they have money enough to meet their expenses (which are very heavy) prior to their obtaining work. I write this feelingly. I must leave my impressions as to the country, &c. until my next. The climate is simply splendid, and I am so thankful to say that our health—I speak now of my own family—is perfect, and our spirits good. I believe that we shall do well after a while, as soon as we get a bit straight, and more used to the different circumstances in which we find ourselves placed. The people we have as yet come in contact with, English and others, have been most kind and ready to help us in every possible way, and with perseverance, and a determination to overcome obstacles, I really think that the fortune I am to return to Southampton to find, though still in the far distant future, is not altogether unattainable. We often think of you all, and trust that you are all in good health and prosperity, and shall be more than grateful for any news of you all, and of events which are passing around you, for we have not yet shaken off the old associations, and the home feeling is still hanging about, so that you may be quite sure that any communication will be most welcome. And now, if your patience has allowed you to read thus far, I take my leave of you once more, with very kindest regards to all, and remembrances to all my old associates, and in the pleasant anticipation of shortly hearing from you and of you all.