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THE LINCOLNTON NEWS & CO., VOL. I. WASHINGTON ADVERTISEMENTS. — LORENZO SMITH & BRO, —OF— WASHINGTON, GA. f ABE OTFEEING FOB THE FALL TBADB CjncinnatiBuggies AT $50 TO $75. Columbus Buggies AT $100 TO $160. Buggies grades and Carriages of other makes and at various prices. Also STUDEBAKER WAGONS At $65 and $70. TENNESSEE WAGONS *. i At $60 and $65 WEBSTER WAGONS $60 to $75. THREE 3-4 WAGONS *. AT $55. Dne-Horse WapR, will Seat, Own Make, at $40. KEMP'S MANURE SPREADERS, GRAln DRILLS, ALBION SPRING TOOTH HARROWS, WINDMILLS, And a General Assortment of Agricultural Impleinents Also Single Harness from .$9 up. Double Harness, parts of HatriBSs, ‘ Hubs, Spokes and Rims. A Good Buggy &HariiessIoi’ $88. ■ Our pricos are guaranteed to be as low a? , . any, similar house in the South. Give, us a pall. Correspondence solicited. - *• C. M. MAY, it •• . WASHINGTON, GA., GROCER 9 and dealer m lift The liberal patronage which I have ob¬ tained from the people of Wilkes and adjoin¬ ing counties, X intend to hold by continuing to sell my goods at the very lowest prices, and by fair dealing in all things. Also C. M. MAY & CO. Will carry on a General Mercantile business at Double Branches, Lincoln Co., Ga. 25 CENTS WIX,L BUY A. AND HIS DISEASES. Bbok of 100 pages. Valuable to every ownei of horses Postage stamps taken. SENT POSTPAID BY lev Turk newspaper Onion, 1M VOETBlHo NEW YOUR. ' : a H ► cl n / < r R p a R 9 0 * > * Q Q w ¥ 0 Q 0 id 4 w p SO 0 4 fl A Reverie. If we could meet who have been long apart I wonder what first words your lips would say, And what first thoughts would waken in your heart If we could meet by any chanco to-day. If face to face along this lonely lane We two should stand with pause of sudden feet, Which would be first—a sense of joy or pain— If we could mdfct? You would not see the light you used to know In eyes that have grown dim with many tears, Nor ever more the smiles of long ago On lips made sorrowful by wasting years, And, looking at you, I might also find Some traces of “the burden and the heat,” Of youthful grace and gladness left behind— If we could meet? Ah, well! The sky is cloudless overhead, The sunlight never fell with fairer gleam, And flow’ry fields and woods are round me spread. And singing waters murmur through my dream; But yet I know what brighter beams would fall, How ev’ry wind and flow’r would grow more sweet, What richer glory would encompass all— If we could meet? Forever and forever, dear, I know I may not hear, your voice or see your face, But, oh, my darling, if it might be so At this c: a fin hour and in this quiet place! You might be cold, or oareless, or estranged, With scarce one swifter throb your heart migh beat, But you would find my lovo at least un¬ changed, If we conld meet? JACK’S MARY. “ I was young, I was fair, I had once not a care,” sang Bettina Lyons, in a doleful tone. (( « Yet you pined like a slave,’ not by the sad sea wave exactly, but at the old farm,” broke in a merry voice. “ So I did, Clare, and often wish my¬ self back again.” “What! and leave all your bright prospects ?” “If you mean visions of the future as they present themselves to me now, yes, if I could take up the old, happy dreams of the past again.” “ But you cannot make me believe you would forsake your brilliant pros¬ pects and return to the hum-drum life you quitted.” “ I would indeed, for I cannot even think of my brilliant future, as you term it, without a shudder.” “ Come, girls, if you are going to the fair it is time you were dressed,” said Mrs. Chalmers, entering the room where the two cousins were seated. “Aunt Winnie, I wish you would leave me home. I am not in the mood for pleasure to-day,” said Bettina. “I did not bring you here to mope. You had plenty of time for that in the country. When you have secured your own comfortable home you can mope in it to your heart’s content, but now.” “ One would think that securing a comfortable home was the end and aim of a woman’s existence. I am heartily tired of being preached to about set¬ tling in life, and to tell you as I told you a hundred times before, Aunt Win¬ nie, I will not marry for the sake of a home.” Mrs. Chalmers looked at her with se¬ vere disapprobation. “ I gave you credit for being a reas¬ onable woman, Bettina; not a way warAchild,” she said. “ Of course I’m wayward for claim¬ ing the right to think for myself cm the subject of matrimony.” “ That will do, my dear; remain at home and return to the farm to-mor¬ row, if you choose; I have no desire to influence your conduct. Come, Clare, you, at least, are always ready to please me.” “Yes, auntie; lam quite prepared and will only detain you while I put on my bonnet and gloves,” was the prompt reply. Bettina spent the afternoon commun¬ ing with her own thoughts, which were far from pleasant ones. “ I will be true to my own love whatever may betide,” she was singing when her aunt and cousin returned. •‘Oh, Bet,” exclaimed the latter when they were alone, “we had a lovely time, but Aunt Winnie was dis¬ appointed, she is so anxious about your future, you know,” “Now, Clare, hush; don’t you be¬ gin a sermon. I get enough of that from auntie. I have been question -ing my heart this afternoon, and have determined that no one shall persuade me to marry a man I do not love for sake of a comfortable, home. What comfort could I find in sitting down by bis fireside with longing regrets for the presence of another. I would be acting false to myself and false to Mr. Wetherill, and although I do not like him ho deserves a better fate than that.” “But if that other person doesn’t care for you?” , “ I never said lie didn't care forme!” and Bettina’s eyes flashed resentfully. “An ugly old cousin whom he is LINCOLNTON, GA., FKIDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1882. pledged to marry stands between us, and the worst of it is she does not pretend to care for him. Their parents concocted the match when they were too young to understand anything about such matters. Fred would give up everything, friends, home, fortune, I would consent, but how can I when *the failure of her pet scheme would break his lady mother’s heart. My coming out of the affair heart¬ broken is of no consequence, for I am only a poor girl who is expected to marry the first man that offers a com¬ fortable home.” “ Did you ever see this cousin ?” “ No,” replied Bettina, ^wiping her eyes. “ Then how do you know she is old and ugly ?” “1 know she is older than Fred, and I think she must be awful homely, else he would have learned to care for her.” “A very logical conclusion,” laughed Clare. “Perhaps the assertion that she does not love him is based on one.” “But I am sure she doesn’t love him,” interrupted the other, eagerly. “ How could she hide it if she did ? Fred knew that I loved him long be¬ fore we talked about it, but you see he felt in honor bound to his cousin, and knew it was not right to speak of love to me.” “He evidently overcame his scruples,” observed Clare. “Yes, after he was perfectly con¬ vinced that his cousin didn’t care for him. Indeed, she told him so.” “Under such circumstances, if she is a true woman, she would conceal her love, even though her heart were breaking.” BettinaJooked up quickly. “ Were you ever in love, Clare?” she asked. Clare flushed a little. “You don’t suppose I would tell you, even if I were ? I do not approve of parading such matters before, the world.” “Oh, perhaps you are one of the kind who would ‘let concealment like a worm’— What is the rest of it ? Something about damask cheeks ; only your cheeks could hardly be called damask, for you are fright¬ fully pale.” Clare smiled good-naturedly. . “ I trust I am one of the kind who wouldn’t make a goose of myself, and fret about a man who didn’t care for me.” “ You evidently don’t believe that Fred loves me. I am half inclined to convince you all that he does. tell , „ you another ,, thing, ,, Clare. I heve if auntie would let Mr. WetberlU alone he would transfer his affections to you in no time. You don’t know how oddly he looks at you If I were in love with him I would be horribly jealous. I really believe if he had seen you before he asked me to marry him he would never have asked the question, although I am younger and—” it t And prettier,’ you were going to say, you vain girl.” “ Well, even if I am, I’m not half as good as you, you dear, sober old Clare. But, good or bad, I am not going to sacrifice myself to please two old women—for that’s just what it amounts to. I gave up Fred to please his mother, and am-going to marry Mr Wetherill to please Aunt- Winnie ; at least slie thinks I am.” For a week or more after the events just related Bettina appeared to be one of the most docile creatures im aginable, and Aunt Winnie and she were again on the most amicable terms, but Clare felt instinctively that she was plotting mischief.. One day Mrs. Chalmers went to pay a long-promised visit to a friend residing in the coun¬ try. As soon as she was “gone the young girl dressed herself in a neat walking costume and left the house. Clare did not miss her until she had occasion to go to her room, where she expected to find her, but found instead a note addressed to herself, which she opened with trembling fingers, and read: “Dear Clare—I fancy that you will not be much astonished to learn that I have gone to meet Fred. Every thing is arranged, and we will be mar ried in a few hours. Aunt Winnie will be furious, but will recover from the shock more rapidly than I would from a broken heart if I followed her advice. Will you please tell Mr. Weth¬ er ill when lie comes, to-night ? Dear Clare, don’t be angry with your own “Bettina.” “ Thank God!” ejaculated Clare, fer¬ vently, as she finished reading. “ They are both saved, hut how shall I ever tell him? Capricious little pet, may you never have cause to regret the step you have taken!” She met Mr. Wetherill with a corn posed air, although her heart was throbbing painfully. “ Miss Lyons is net at home,” she said. “Not at home?” "in a tone of sur prise. “No, Mr. 'Wetherill; she’s gone away, leaving me an unpleasant task to perform. I hope you will not be too much shocked,” she went on, ner¬ vously; “but I am afraid she is mar—. Read this note; it will explain alL” She trembled like an aspen as she watched him reading the note, his face growing pale and flushed alternately. “ I am so grieved, Mr. Wetherill.” “You need not be, Miss Clare. I admire Bettina’s courage and honesty in refusing to give her hand where she could not bestow her heart. She has saved us both from life-long ness.” Qlare gazed at him, too much amazed to speak. Miss Clare, will you listen to a story that has been trembling on my lips since I first met you here?” Without v aiting for a reply he con ^ nl l ed ' any ears ag0 ,, ere * • " 33 a J’ oun g man a mere lad whom we will call Jack. He w as a farmer s son, and poor. Near his father s place lived a widow and her only child, Mary. Jack loved this little girl from her hood, and when she was fourteen and he nineteen the two promised to be true to each other as long as life lasted. Shortly afterward Jack went out into the world to try to make a home for the child who had promised to be his wife. Several letters were exchanged until Mary s mother discovered what was going on, and forbid her to write any more. About a year after their separation her mother died, and she went to a distant city to reside with relatives. Jack did not hear of these events until he returned to his old home, two years later. Then lie made inquiries for his little love, but could gain no further tidings of her. Several years passed, and he was successful beyond even his boyish expectations, During this period he met many beauti ful women, but little Mary s image refused to leave its shrine in his heart. One day* he saw a notice of her mar riage. Then hope died, but memory remained. As time passed he be¬ came weary of his bachelor’s life, and concluded to marry. chance threw Mill in the society of a young girl whose unconventional manners proved a strong attraction, and in a short time he asked her to be his wife. He thought the reluctant air with which she con¬ sented was due to bashfulness, but i later on discovered that her heart be¬ j longed to some one else. Then he . termined to question her closelv j garding the matter, and if his conjec tures were truetogive her back her promise. Meantime he’ihet a woman wonderfully like his lost love. Yet she was not called Mary, nor did she bear the name of the man whom she had married, and, while bound to the young girl, he could not ask her for an expla nation. At last he found himself free, and—Miss Clare, it rests with you to decide how the story of Jack’s love shall end.” A profound silence reigned for a few moments, then Clare explained in a low, tremulous voice: “ After the death of Mary’s mother she went to live with her father’s brother, whose daughter was also named Mary Lamson. In order to avoid confusion Jack’s Mary was called by her second name, Clare. It was Mary’s cousin who married, but the orphan girl remained true to her early love.” “ And her constancy is at last re warded,” said Mr. Wetherill, drawing her to his breast, She laid her head in a restful way on his shoulder, and thus Aunt Winnie found them when she returned in a great state of excitement, having re ceived a telegram from Bettina an¬ nouncing her marriage. “ Well,” she ejaculated, when the situation was explained, “ I am glad we are going to keep you in the family. But I must say Bettina would have made you a brilliant wife.” “ Clare will make a loving wife, and I am satisfied with the exchange, Mrs. Chalmeis,” he answered, fervently. ° u> T ’ ( " ,,i,,as " nd sv,, '"m y - According to Mr. dward Atkinson,. !’ nt lia ?f L>1) P eo P le ' lf ^ iel ' mted ’~ tates can be reckonedmi the T° rkmg orce 0 16 na 10n ‘ u ' <aridngs cd t,1 ‘ S " orK , ' . n S force, ma l e ot *1 a day S°L eacli, tor e Sr the 1 3 -J05 o? days STS ol the year, so that the annual income of the people, in round numbers, is M0, 000,000,000. He estimates that the sustenance of our population averages forty-five cents a day for each man, woman and child, so that ninety cents of every dollar earned is consumed, leaving but ten per cent, of the annual earnings to maintain existing capital and increase the nation’s wealth. His opinion is that the increase in wealth is less than $500,000,000 annually. His purpose in this exhibit is to encourage economy. ( LIPriXGS FOR THE CURIOUS. In every tobacco factory at Key West there is a “reader.” Cubans cannot talk without gesticulation, and in order to keep them from talking a person is hired to read aloud to the hands during working hours. Upward of 13,000,000 letters and postal cards are posted daily in the world; 3,418,000,000 letters are an¬ nually distributed in Europe, 1,246, 000,000 in America, 76,000 in Asia, 36,000,000 in Australia, and 11000,000 in Africa, Pearl fishing is pursued by no less than 1,000 divers on the coast of Lower California. The pearl oysters are found from one to six miles from shore, in water from one to twenty-fathoms deep. The yearly product is about $ 5 Q 0 <XK) Dr. Baxter, of Washington, says that tj ie best height for a soldier is five feet two inches,and the best weight is two pounds to the inch. Soldiers seventy inches high should weigh 140 pounds. j One million of men passed through his ] ian ds. Six-footers as a rule are not so compactly and firmly put together, Any marching regiment in the British arrn y caa tire out the ponderous guards. 'ng Amo the ancient oaks of England one o£ the most prominent is the g j gan ti c ru ; n j n a n arable field on the ] ;an ks of the Severn, near Shrewsbury, £s the sole remaining tree of vast his torical forests, and called the Cressage oa k ) being probably not less than four teen centuries old. The trunk is about thirty feet in circumference five feet from the ground, but only about one . half the shell of the hollow trunk now i remains. It still bears fifteen living j branches, fifteea or sixteen feet in length, while a young oak grows from £be center of the hollow, A new celluloid has been discovered, it ig obtained from well-peeled pota toes, which are treated for thirty-six i 10Urg with a solution of eight parts sulphuric acid in 100 parts of water. j The mass is dried between blotting ' and then pressed. It is further paper stated that in France, smoking pipes are manufactured out of this new ma terial, which are quite equal in ap¬ pearance to meerschaum. By heavy pressure the material acquires such a hardness that billiard balls can be manufactured with it. PEARLS O (! THOUGHT. Love, faith, patience—the three es¬ sentials to a happy life. Pride hath two seasons—a forward spring and an early fall. F avors of every kind are doubled when they are speedily conferred, No denunciation is so eloquent as the final influence of a good example. A noble part of eyery true ufe is to ] Carn to undo what has been wrongly j one _ A man’s character is like a fence— it cannot be strengthened by white¬ wash. Women swallow at one mouthful the lie that flatters, and drink drop by drop the truth that is bitter. Thought is the first faculty of man; to express it is one of his first desires ; to spread it his dearest privilege. Be courageous and noble-minded ; our own heart, and not other men’s opinions of us, forms our true honor. Occasion may be the bugle-call that summons an army to battle, but the blast of a bugle can never make sol¬ diers or win victories. Truth is tough. It will not break like a bubble, at a touch : nay, you may luck it about all day lixe a foot¬ ball, and it will be round and full at eyeni Does not Mr . Brvant say that truth gets well if she is run ovei by a locomotive, while error dies ot lockjaw if she scratches her linger. Obeying Orders. The following story is told of a French deputy, who is also a physician: Being kind-hearted and philanthrope cal, he lias opened a giatuitous consul¬ tation room for poor people of his own sex. As the crowd is sometimes very great, his method of proceeding is very summar y, in order to save time. His orders to each patient are, “ Strip, what ails you? Dress.” Then he writes his prescription and is ready for another patient. The other dav a fine-lv >*“*—“w ™™ 1 **» “»'• „ strip » quotb the doctor. Off came every garment that the visitor had on, reye : aing a frame o£ unexceptionable yigor< « wbat ails you?” “Nothing, sir.” “Where are you suffering?” “ Nowhere, sir.” “ Then what did you come here for ?” “ M. le Depute, I came to apply for some little place in the postoffice.” “ Then why did you take off your clothes ?” “ You told me to do so, M. le Depute, and I thought that it was an essential formula.” “ Blood will tell,” so be careful how you make oonfldantes of your relations. THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT *• A Feiu*fnl Ancent of Nearly 400 Feet Re¬ warded by a .Magnificent lTievr. ' horrors If one in feels Washington, a desire to sup full on | says a letter from the national capital, there ia no way in which success is so certain and so 3peedy as an ascent of the 37-5 feet of the unfinished Washington menu- j ment. Although no accident of any kind whatever has happened since the work was begun, owing to the aami rable precautions that have been ob served, the mere contemplation of the dangers to be avoided would give Gen oral Washington himself, if he were alive, the cold creeps. It must be re membered that the monument is already I among the highest structures 1 in the world, while the transporta tion of the gigantic blocks of stone ! to the top is something which has no ! parallel in this country, and has sel dom been equaled anywhere. Whether the ascent is calculated to inspire fear j | or not may be imagined from the reply made by one of the highest officials in Washington to the inquiry, “ Were you —were you not just a little frightened I going up?” “Frightened! I was per fectly terrified!” was the hearty re sponse given with all the force of em phasis. The ascent is made by the elevator, which runs through the middle of the great obelisk. This elevator is a mere open platform, which does not deserve the name of an alleviator, as Mrs. Gen eral Gilflory puts it; it is rather the terrifier. Every time it goes up it carries from five to ten tons of stone, and the only way for visitors to get to the top is to huddle the immense mass of stone on the diabolical - looking machine, The platform begins to move slowly and laboriously upward. grinding and creaking at every inch from the enormous weight it lifts. In half a minute the light of day totally disappears, and at that moment the horrors of the position suddenly swoop down upon me. To be dangling hun dreds of feet above a chasm with only a rope between a fall to the bottom with 10,000 pounds of stone is enough to appal any imagination. Although the darkness is blackness ineonceiv able and the intense silence broken only by the groaning of the great mass feeling its way painfully upward, yet the frightful abyss appears to becWe of itself both audible and visible. The last 150 feet of balancing between heaven and earth is like hanging be tween life and death. Even the ele vator man gives up his heroic efforts to keep up the courage of the party. At length light from the top begins to appear, and in a minute or two a pallid, party of pleasure seekers step out on the platform at the top, nearly 400 feet in the air. There is an enorm¬ ous iron structure running through the middle of the obelisk and around this the stone is blocked. Six'feet afe added every week in three tiers of two-foot blocks. The structure is then six feet above the temporary platform, which is thereupon raised, and the work of bringing it six feet above the level is commenced. A network of rope is securely fixed around the top of the shaft, extending several feet off, to catch any unfortunate man who might drop over—the workmen are compelled to be on the very edge in order to complete the outer layer of stone. A young lady not long since, in a spirit of bravado, threw herself into this life-saving net. A weak spot in the rope would have sent her nearly four hundred feet to the earth. A contrivance like the rigging of a ship is on top of the shaft, and the wind howls through it with enormous force. When a tier or two is laid the work men are protected in a measure from the violence of the wind, but they ae knowledge that when they are work¬ ing on a level it is something terrific. If anything could repay one for the horrors of the ascent, it would be the view after reaching the top. Even the most hardened, sightseer must be entlmsiastic at the great panorama spread out before him. The vast treasury building looks like a liliputian house. The plan of Washington becomes well defined as a checker board. The Tull grandeur of the eapitol is then for the first time realized. When it is membered that the eapitol is of almost the identical dimensions of the great pyramid and of St. Peter’s, being per¬ haps a few feet longer than either, it may seem that it has nothing to lose by looking at it from any point of ele¬ vation. Everything else grows minute from the top of the monument except the white splendor of the eapitol. It seems to be on a mountain instead of a hill, and amid the diminishing of every other object the great white dome stands gradually out, so high that it looks as though poised in air. Fire lays a grievous tax upon Lon¬ don. The losses from it amount to |SOO t OOO a month PUBLISHERS. NO. 8. Vegetable Wonders. The entrance to the Botanic garden of Peradenia is through a noble avenue of india rubber trees. This tree, which j 3 known to us of the North only by puny specimens in greenhouses, grows in these tropical regions to a giant’s stature, of a size comparable to that of our largest oaks. An immense crown of many thousand leaves covers with the aid of its horizontal limbs, which are thirty or forty feet long, the area of a stately palace; while from the base of its thick trunk extends a frame work of roots over a space of often between one and two hundred feet in diameter, and much larger than would correspond with the height of the tree. This wonderful structure con sists of twenty or thirty chief roots proceeding from as many correspond ing ribs in the lower part of the trunk and' spreading themselves like great snakes on the ground. The tree is hence called the snake tree by the natives, and has been compared by the poets to the coiled serpents of the Laocoon. The reacts, with the ribs which mark their swelling out from the trunk, form strong buttresses to the tree and enable it to bid defiance to the storm. The spaces between the buttresses constitute mimic chambers large enough for a standing >ati to conceal himself in them v Among the other arboreal wonders o£ Peradenia are the giant bamboos -which are a marvel to all visitors Xhey here form thickets Mo*g the banks o{ the 8tre am* hBndWd feet high, and as many feet wide, bending* their great heads, like: the: waving piame of a giant, high ovej .the river the adjoining road. On a- nearer approach, each of the thicketsis seen to consist of cylindrical stems afoot or two tMck, which, closely crowded together below on a creeping.^ common root— ofEshoots fr0!T1 a stem— diverge as they rise, and bear 6n slight, nodding branches dense Lifts of the most delicate foliage. These "gigantic trees are nothing but grass#. Like grass-holms, their great' hollow ree d-stem is divided into joints; but t he sheath of the leaf, which fa repre sented in our t p nder grassy a thin seale at the base of the leaves, becomes j n these plated gigantic bamboos a hard, W oody that might without . further preparation serve, thg purpose 0 f an armor for the whole. breast of a strong man. A three-year-old child, could hide itself in one of the joints of the stem .—Popular Science MmThly. -—- The Graves of Noted Men. Of those who have adorned the liter¬ ature of our language, Chaucer, Spen¬ cer, Beaumont, Drayton, Cowley, Den¬ ham, Drvden, Adclison, Prior, Con¬ greve, Gay, Johnson, Sheridan and Campbell lie in Westminster Abbey. Milton was buried in the churchyard of St. Gile’s, Cripplegate; Pope, in the church at Twickenham; Swift, in St. Patrick’s, Dublin; Thompson, in the churchyard at Richmond, in Surrey; Gray, in the churchyard atStoke-Pogis, the scene of the “Elegy;” Gold¬ smith, in the churchyard of the temple church; Cowper,ia the church atDere j liam ard > Dumfries; Burns : in Byron, st * Michael’s in the church- church I ' ’ I HucknaU, near Newstead Abbey; j ^ Coleridge, Walter in Scott, the church in DryburgAbbey; at Highgate; lr Southey, in. Crosthwaite church, near Keswick. j In this country there is no one na i Conal cemetery of pre-eminence. Web ! ster is buried in ancient burying groimd ” overlooking the sea, near Marshfield, where be lived, and in like manner Clay’s grave is near his home at “Ashland,” in the cemetery at Lex¬ ington. Bayard Taylor lies at Long ? las TO0 ?’.* birthplace bt * le , at Kennet. w ? hla Seward Slgh1 ' o£ : is j buried at Auburn. Franklin’s grave and the tombstone covering his and hia wife’s remains may be seen from the sidewalk through an iron fence panel ‘uthe . .. wai ,, ot ,. tie graveyard of Chnst clmrch ’ John Dickinson, “the Penn sylvailia farmer ’" has aa un ' ! marked grave in the Friends’ j burial ground at Wilming i ! ton, Delaware. General Wayne’s remains - dimmed at Erie, in the old i0rt ’ and brought by his son over tho I mountains in a box seventy-five years ag0 ’ are in the old church at Kandor - Alexantler H^ilton lies in the Trinity churchyard, New York, with a menu ment above him. Joseph Rodman Drake’s remains lie in a private grave¬ yard of the Hunt family, on Long Island Sound, near New York. Joseph Jefferson, the elder, lies buried in the Harrisburg cemetery, with an epitaph by Chief Justice Gibson. Francis Scott Key, who wrote the “ Star Spangled Banner,” is hurried in Mount Olivet cemetery at Frederick, Md. James Gates Percival is buried at Hazel Green, Mich. The tomb of Wilson, the ornithologist, is in tho churchyard of the old Wicaco Swedes’ church, at Philadelphia— Philadelphia North American.