quainted with his excellency. Emerging at the western gate, we come upon a string of mules guided by a mulatto, who is continually shouting-not the kind words suggested by Mr. Bergh-but "ho! devil," "go along, fool," and other expressions equally inelegant. In view, however, of the delicious edibles with which they keep the market supplied, their mode of driving is readily excused. The panniers-one upon each side of the animal-are filled with oranges, plantains, araca, pinha, and, perchance, boxes of guava jelly, one of the greatest delicacies of the country. But only one, for the list is long and includes Mother Benta's cakes, doce de araca, eggthreads, sighs, angels' hair, and baba de moca (the latter could be translated, but it does not sound as well in English) and—I came near forgetting it—"heavenly bacon," a light pudding composed of almond-paste, eggs, sugar, butter and flour. These muleteers are a very peculiar sort of people. Living, as they do, in isolated places among the mountains or on the bank of some river, they are imbued with strange notions. Their every day affairs are arranged in strict accordance with the superstitions cherished, while all calamities are attributed to some mysterious agency. Each hamlet has its traditions and legends, the truth of which they never question, and their weird tales of ancient people and places strikingly illustrate the extravagances of which the ignorant mind is capable. The monotony of their lives is only varied by the weekly or monthly visits to town, where they remain all day, drinking wine and telling stories-in every sense of the word—at the corner grocery. The journey home through dark and almost trackless forests would be dreary enough were it not for the vampire bats, whose persistent efforts to taste mule blood require constant activity on the part of the drivers. Some of the finest residences in Pernambuco grace the environs of Boa Vista, homes of the merchant princes and physicians of good repute, the diamond miner, and, possibly, a former slave dealer. Their day is begun, as it should be, luxuriously. At six we shall find them on the verandah in gown and slippers quietly sipping a cup of black coffee as they read the morning news. Now, joined by wife and children, they saunter through the well-kept grounds, where nature, in all her loveliness, spreads out before them in that wild abandon so characteristic of tropical scenery. Myriads of happy songsters merrily flit from branch to branch, sending the dew in crystal showers to startle the modest chameleon and cause his coat to turn from its roseate hue to emerald green. Screaming paroquets fly about in great confusion at the near approach of the tyrant blue macaw, and the timid musk monkey pauses in his morning meal to view with ill-concealed surprise the disturbers of his peace. Down in the glade, where the brook in graceful curves its course pursues, the cattle now their fast are breaking. At times they stop to chew the returning quid, and gaze, sedate and sober, at the white swans gayly sporting on the limpid stream. At every turn prolific nature exhibits some new and pleasing charm, some quiet, peaceful scene to rest the eye and calm the soul. Can we wonder then that with day thus happily begun the man of physic cures his patient by his cheerful manner? Is it strange that politeness and good feeling enter even the musty counting-house, when almost from God's own lips the lesson of "peace on earth, good will toward men" is daily learned? The water carriers are by no means "early birds," but by seven o'clock we shall see them on their way to the fountain, where a little old man in a sentrybox receives the required penny a jar. Much wrangling-principally in the incomprehensible jargon of the African tongue-occurs inside the railing, and many hands are raised in anger at real or fancied insults, but no one is harmed, which desirable state of circumstances is due to the participants not possessing courage according to their strength. Time is not money with the water venders, and they waste many precious moments-not to say hours-with a nonchalance that is truly refreshing. In the street they adopt a rapid, swinging gate, and cry in a drawling voice: "Aqua de beber." Scarcely audible now, for the drays have "come to town" to join the busy throng now hurrying to and fro. Almost unheeded is the beggar's "for the love of God," although their appearance bespeaks wretchedness and want. The convict street-sweepers, whose clanking chains their tale of woe unfold, file past in mournful silence, and soon the iron door will shut the sunshine from out their lonely hearts, whose every beat brings back to mind afresh the details of some sanguinary crime. As if to demonstrate to the world that the good fortune of mankind is chiefly attributable to their own diligence, the knife-grinder busily turns his flying wheel and sings to “minha negra." Coffee carriers are trotting along the wharves; the rat tat tat of the patrol drum calls forth the drowsy guard; the day has passed from childhood into youth, and our morning in the tropics is over. THE CHANGED BURDENS. BY MARTHA J. NOYES. Somewhere a story I have seen All had their burdens. Each his own A poor man laid his poorness down The gouty man chose a scolding wife, A hump-back doffed his life-long shame For a deaf mute's straight and manly frame. And straight the cast-off husband chose. A billious man his liver swapped All took their choice, and all believed The man with gout, unused to pain, With woes untold the love-lorn maid Are fitted by a wise behest, And for each one his own is best. EDITORIAL MEMORANDA. Back numbers of the GRANITE MONTHLY will be furnished to all who desire, and subscriptions may commence with No. 1, from which they will be dated in all cases unless otherwise expressly ordered by the subscriber. The second article upon the work of the New Hampshire Antiquarian Society, by the President, Rev. Silas Ketchum, which was to have appeared this month, has been unavoidably delayed, on account of the severe illness of that gentleman, but will undoubtedly be given in the next number. We are glad to learn that Mr. Ketchum is recovering from his illness, and hopes soon to enter actively upon his duties as pastor of the Congregational Church at Poquonock, Conn., where he has recently been called. The region of Sunapee Lake is coming to be a popular summer resort. Quite a number of people from the cities are stopping in that vicinity this summermore than ever before-and the prospect now is that a large increase will be made from year to year, requiring extended boarding and hotel accommodations. A more romantic locality certainly cannot be found in this or any other State. But thirty miles from Concord, via the Concord & Claremont Railroad, which skirts the shore of the Lake for several miles, it is readily accessible, and those who cannot make a longer stay can there pass a day or two to advantage. Those who have more time at their command, can profitably stop over for a time, either in going or coming, at Warner, and visit Kearsarge Mountain, to the summit of which there is now an excellent carriage road. This is one of the finest mountains in the State, and its summit affords a more extended prospect than any other in New England south of the White Mountain region. As this number of the GRANITE MONTHLY goes to press the centennial celebration of the battle of Bennington is in full progress. Hundreds-we may even say thousands of the citizens of New Hampshire are on the ground, participating in the patriotic demonstration, including a large delegation of our citizen soldiery. As the Granite State was well represented upon the same ground a hundred years ago-as the valorous deeds of her sons under their heroic leader, John Stark, then made the field of Bennington immortal-it is indeed most fitting that the State should be well represented upon this centennial occasion, and that a conspicuous part in the exercises should be assigned to her representatives-a part which will be performed with honor, as was the case upon the previous great occasion. Our enterprise is receiving very general commendation from those of our people to whose notice it has been brought. The utility of a State Magazine seems to be recognized by a considerable portion of our leading citizens, though there are of course a variety of opinions as to the plan upon which it should be conducted, and the ground it should cover. It is our aim to meet, as far as may be, the average demand, and in this we believe we have succeeded as well as could be expected under the circumstances. While expressing our thanks for the encourage ment and assistance already received, we would also suggest that it is in the power of our friends to do much toward making our enterprise a success. Contributions of historical, biographical, local or general interest, will be most acceptable, while that substantial encouragement which takes the form of an increase in the subscription list will always be duly appreciated. In this connection we suggest that each subscriber to the MONTHLY call the attention of friends and neighbors, who are not subscribers, to the publication, with a view to inducing them to become such. In this way great assistance can be rendered with very little ef fort. In the biographical sketch of Col. Henry O. Kent with which this number of the MONTHLY is opened, in referring to his ancestry it might have been mentioned that the old family homestead in Newbury, settled by Col. Jacob Kent of the French and Revolutionary Wars, has always remained in the family, and is now owned by Capt. Clark Kent. Col. Jacob Kent, well known as a former U. S. Marshal of Vermont, formerly landlord of the Coossuck House at Wells River, and prominent in social and political affairs in that State, now resides with his brother Clark, on the old place. Gen. Loren Kent, who was Adjutant and Colonel of the Twenty-ninth Illinois Regiment, and distinguished himself at Pittsburg Landing and Mobile, was Provost Marshal of Grant's Western army, was made Brigadier General, and died Collector of the port of Galveston, Texas, of yellow fever, in 1866, was a cousin of Col. Kent, a son of his father's brother Adrial Kent. He was born on Parker Hill, Lyman, but went west with his father when quite young. Another cousin, James S. Kent, son of John C. Kent, a native of Lyman Plain, (now Monroe), served in Berdan's regiment of Sharpshooters, and was killed at Gettysburg. No man in New Hampshire, during the past twenty years, has been more prominently known in the politics of the State than he whose name appears above. One of the original organizers of the Republican party in the State, Mr. Rollins has been one of the most active, and, in fact, the leading manager of the party organization, down to the present timecommander-in-chief, as it were, of its forces in all the sharp contests with the opposing or Democratic party. A brief outline of the career of one who has been thus prominent in active politics, and who has also attained high official distinction, cannot fail to be of interest to men of all parties. long time subsequently spelled, and is now by some branches of the family), who came to America in 1632, with the first settlers of Ipswich, Mass., and who, ten or twelve years afterward, located in that portion of old Dover known as "Bloody Point," now embraced in the town of Newington, where he died about 1690. From a history of the Rollins family-descendants of this James Rawlinscompiled by John R. Rollins of Lawrence, we find that its representatives suffered their full share in the privations and sacrifices incident to the firm establishment of the colony, and performed generous public service in the early Indian and French wars and the great revolutionary contest. Ichabod, the eldest son of James Rawlins, and from whom Edward H. is a direct descendant, was waylaid and killed by a party of Indians, while on the way from Dover to Oyster River (now Durham), with one John Bunker, May 22, 1707. Thomas, the second son of James, who subsequently became a resident of Exeter, was a member of the famous "dissolved Assembly" of 1683, who took up arms under Edward Gove and endeavored to incite an |