The cricket matches and polo exhibitions are scheduled as usual now at the Hurlingham Club, and the old ivy-draped English clubhouse is filling once again with local gentry at tea time.

At St. George's, an 84-year-old private boarding school, applications are as bountiful as ever for the new term and textbooks are still arriving from London for the pre-university English curriculum.

Even among the Hispanic upper crust of Buenos Aires, an old style lingers. "Not a one of them has put away their macintosh or given up their club," noted a downtown businessman.

This turbulent country still shelters a subculture that, said a recently arrived British diplomat, "is astounding in how very English it is." And after nine months of war and diplomatic conflict between Argentina and Britain, many of the self-described Anglo-Argentines say their long-proud community remains essentially unchanged.

"There was always a very congenial atmosphere between anything English and anything Argentine," said David Colvill-Jones, the Anglo-Argentine manager of the Hurlingham Club. "Now it's been partly destroyed, and that's a shame. But the Argentines have always admired the English and it's hard for that to crumble quickly."

With Argentina convulsed by economic and social crisis, suddenly self-conscious Anglo-Argentines--members of the British-born or -descended group that numbers more than 100,000 here--have begun to debate their role here.

"The past year made a lot of people realize where they stood and what their ultimate loyalties were," said Eric Henderson, an advertising executive and third-generation Anglo-Argentine. "Being an Anglo-Argentine is a state of mind. Either you're one thing or the other, but you can't be both at once. And so you're never fully an Argentine and don't feel entirely comfortable."

And yet, the genteel mix here of English and Argentine culture, the product of more than a century of British economic dominance, remains deeply rooted 40 years after ties between the two countries sharply declined.

Thousands of families still speak the queen's English at home, send their children to private schools to be taught by imported English teachers and choose among dozens of Anglo-Argentine social and sports clubs. Many of the clubs, like the exclusive, 150-acre Hurlingham, were founded by the British in the 19th century and now scrupulously keep up appearances for their predominantly Argentine memberships.

There is a British hospital, a British-American home for senior citizens, an orphanage, a formal comunity council and a daily English-language newspaper, the Buenos Aires Herald, which tailors some of its columns to the Anglo-Argentine community.

Decades after the original immigration, it is in some ways a remarkably unassimilated community.

"It's disappearing no faster than it was when I was a boy," said Bishop Richard Stanley Cutts, the head of the Anglican Church in Argentina, which has about 40,000 members. "I remember when I was a boy thinking it was all going to change. But it hasn't changed all that much. It's gone on about the same."

The lack of integration is a signal of an older and broader Argentine problem. For the Anglo-Argentines are only one of a host of national communities that formed during a great wave of European immigration to the country in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, then never really assimilated.

Next door to the old English Boating Club outside Buenos Aires, for example, is an even more impressive boat club of the German community, which claims as many as a million members and keeps up a hospital, German-language shools, clubs and a weekly German-language newspaper.

Italians and their descendants, who make up as much as 40 percent of Argentina's population by some estimates, have their own network of language schools and clubs, and smaller but cohesive communities of Spanish, Scandinavian, Dutch and Japanese still exist.

For many Argentines, the many identifiable communities are a symptom of a history of social and political malaise stretching back to the years just after the large immigration to the country ended.

"This country has not yet found its true nationality," said Cutts. "The thing just hasn't jelled.

"People who have lived here for generations should accept that they are first and foremost Argentines, but not all do," said Cutts, who was born in Argentina. "People for too long here have lacked a sense of security, and so they continue to look to the community that brought them here."

It is that sense of national disintegration, more than anything else, that appears to hold many Anglo-Argentines together. Though in most cases they were anguished and offended by British actions during the Falkland Islands war and afterward, they found British culture, language and associations something to hold on to.

"The culture keeps people together, and there's a sort of discipline and relation preserved," said Donald McGibbon, a travel agent in a company that caters to Anglo-Argentines. "In the community you sneeze and they know it tomorrow."

During the Falklands conflict, said Rosemary Brazier, the secretary of the British Community Council, "people suddenly wanted to be together. It's very difficult in cases of strife to talk to anybody else but Anglo-Argentines. We could see the situation from both sides, or from 25 different sides among ourselves, and it wasn't like that for other people."

Even before the three-month conflict with Britain divided and threatened Anglo-Argentines here, the community stood out from those around it.

While many Irish, Scots and some Welsh emigrated to Argentina as farmers or workers, the enduring institutions and culture were established not by masses of immigrants, but by British businessmen and managers who came to make their fortunes or oversee a vast network of business and financial interests.

Shaping much of Argentina's trade and commercial development, British interests built--and in most cases owned until the 1940s--Argentina's shipping, railroads, public transportation, telephone network, most of its meat packing industry and huge portions of its land and cattle. Eighty percent of foreign investment in Argentina was British.

"Britain built this country," said Bruce Carlisle, who came to Argentina in 1946, married an Argentine, and stayed. "This was an outpost of the empire." Carlisle's former employer, Liebig's, controlled meat-packing plants and more than 3 million acres of land in Argentina and Paraguay.

"We were a privileged community," said Richard V. Cooper, who arrived in 1928 to work for the British railroad. "We kept very much to ourselves. In those days it was quite usual to refer to Argentines as 'natives.' "

By the time of the Falklands conflict last year, that isolationism and arrogance had largely died out. While many Anglo-Argentines had mixed feelings on both the Argentine invasion and the militant British response, most sided with Argentina and many, including British passport holders, attempted to intervene between the warring sides.

Still, the sense of detachment from the country lingers on for some. Anglo-Argentines still speak jokingly of "mixed marriages" between the British-bred and other Argentines, and many of the Argentine-born still speak Spanish with a distinct, metallic accent.

"It is the way it is here," one Anglo-Argentine businessman said. "The Anglos hang on to the Anglos and the Italians to the Italians and the Germans to the Germans. And the country goes on being ungovernable."