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all sorts. In this pleasant home, in the midst of the 

 bright, intelligent circle composing the family of Senhor 

 Franklin, we passed two days. After breakfast we dis 

 persed to our various occupations, the gentlemen being 

 engaged in excursions in the neighborhood ; the evening 

 brought us together again, and was enlivened with music, 

 dancing, and games. The Brazilians are fond of games, 

 and play them with much wit and animation. One of 

 their favorite games is called &quot; the market of saints &quot; ; 

 it is very amusing when there are two or three bright 

 people to act the prominent parts. One person performs 

 the salesman, another the padre who comes to purchase 

 a saint for his chapel ; the company enact the saints, 

 covering their faces with their handkerchiefs, and remain 

 ing as motionless as possible. The salesman brings in the 

 padre, and, taking him from one to another in turn, de 

 scribes all their extraordinary miraculous qualities, their 

 wonderful lives and pious deaths. After a few introduc 

 tory remarks on the subject of the purchase, the hand 

 kerchief is drawn off, and if the saint keeps his counte 

 nance and remains immovable during all the ridiculous 

 things that are said about him, he comes off scot free ; 

 but if he laughs he is subject to a forfeit. There are 

 indeed few who stand the test ; for if the salesman has 

 any tact in the game, he knows how to seize upon any 

 funny incident or characteristic quality connected with the 

 individual, and give it prominence. Perhaps the reader, 

 knowing something of our hunt for glaciers, may guess 

 this saint, Major Coutinho being salesman. &quot; This, Sen 

 hor Padre, is rather a stout saint, but still of most pious 

 disposition, and, meu Padre ! a wonderful worker of 

 miracles ; he can fill these valleys with ice, he covers the 



