The Grave of Alexander Wilson. 



251 



but usually have black or dark on back 

 and wings. Size somewhat less than robin 

 redbreast. 



As this locality is some distance from 

 the coast, and most of our water is frozen 

 over during the winter, we do not get 

 many visits from the water birds except 

 now and then a few merganser ducks or an 

 occasional grebe. 



In a list from memory of birds that we 



may expect through the winter, I have 

 thirty-six. Divided as follows: common 

 winter residents twelve, rare residents or 

 common visitors eight, rare or accidental 

 visitors sixteen. 



So, although we may be out days, with- 

 out seeing anything but jays, we can feel 

 assured that there are birds around, and 

 perhaps the next time we will see many 

 species in a short time. 



C. W. Swallow. 



THE GRAVE OF ALEXANDER WILSON, 



IT was a breezy day in spring when I set 

 out to visit the grave of Alexander 

 Wilson, a day "when all the world gives 

 promise of something sweet to come." The 

 fragrance of tender grass and swelling buds 

 filled the air. After the city was reached 

 the horse cars conveyed me within a short 

 distance of the sacred spot. 



The grave of Wilson is in the burial 

 ground of Gloria Dei, more familiarly 

 known as the old Swedes' church, at Phila- 

 delphia. It is in that part of the city which 

 is frequently spoken of as old Philadelphia. 

 Many of the names of the old Swedish set- 

 tlers are still attached to the locality, Swan- 

 son street being one of the old landmarks. 

 The place was called Wiccaco by the Indians, 

 meaning a pleasant place, and this name 

 still lives as marking certain points in the 

 neighborhood. The primitive log church, 

 or "Swedes' House," was also called the 

 Wiccaco Church, and there was originally 

 attached to it twenty-seven acres. The 

 present church was built in 1700. The 

 square black and gray bricks of which it is 

 built were brought from England. The 

 church has passed from the original owners, 

 the Lutherans, and is now owned by the 

 Episcopalians. 



The historian tells us that Alexander 

 Wilson desired to be laid at rest where 

 birds amid the trees, might sing over his 



grave. It was a pleasant place in days of 

 old, but now, alas! the place is changed. 

 The church yard is surrounded with human- 

 ity and traffic. It is true the broad Dela- 

 ware flows on majestic to the sea, just be- 

 yond the church and its precinct ; but a 

 street, with a railroad track in the center, 

 over which pass unsightly freight trains, 

 bounds the wall of the grounds, and beyond 

 the street grain elevators and warehouses 

 shut out the river view. There is no hint 

 of the river except the tall masts of ships 

 that tower above the buildings. In old 

 times the church stood on an elevated river 

 bank, but now the street is cut down and 

 the river is pushed back, as it were, by fill- 

 ing in, and instead of the entrance to the 

 grounds being on Swanson street, it is on 

 Oswego street, on its west side. Here is 

 an iron fence, and over the arched gateways 

 the legend "Gloria Dei." A stone walk 

 leads through the silent city of the dead to 

 the church. The quaint old church is of 

 the utmost interest, but we pass it by at 

 this time, and examine the still more quaint 

 tablets that mark the graves of those who 

 were first laid to rest in this historic spot. 

 Many of the inscriptions have been obliter- 

 ated by time. Passing along the narrow 

 walk between the mounds with their unpre- 

 tending tablets, it is easy to discern the 

 o-rave of Wilson. It is marked by an in- 



