James McCauley.
Reading edition
James McCauley was born August 23, 1809, near Mechanics Valley, in Cecil county, and received his education in the log schoolhouse in that neighborhood known as Maffit’s schoolhouse. He learned the trade of a cooper with his father John McCauley. After coming of age he taught school for a few years, and then commenced making threshing machines and horse powers, doing the wood and iron work himself. In 1836 he removed to New Leeds, where he has since resided.
In 1841, Mr. McCauley was appointed County Surveyor by Governor Pratt, and served in that capacity for several years and has ever since practiced land surveying with much success in all parts of Cecil county. In 1857 he was elected Register of Wills and served until the Fall of 1863. In 1864 he was elected a delegate to the General Assembly of the State, and served in the session of 1865, and the special session of 1866. Mr. McCauley has always been deeply interested in the cause of education and was chairman of the committee on that subject in the House of Delegates. While in the Legislature he was instrumental in securing the passage of the law prohibiting the sale of intoxicating liquors in Cecil county on election day.
In the early part of 1868 Mr. McCauley was appointed School Commissioner, and soon afterwards Chief Judge of the Orphan’s Court, to fill the vacancy caused by the death of the late Levi H. Evans, which he did with so much acceptability that he has since been elected for four terms of four years each.
In 1834, Mr. McCauley married Sarah, the youngest daughter of Hugh Beard, a well-known surveyor of this county. His first wife died in 1846, leaving five children. In 1849 he married Millicent, daughter of Jacob Price, of Sassafras Neck.
Mr. McCauley commenced to write poetry when a young man and has contributed poetry, but much more prose, to the newspapers of this county during the last half century.
Henry Clay.
He needs no monument, no marble pile, ’Tis vain thus to commemorate a name That must endure in noble grandeur while His country lives,—the temple of his fame.
Virtuous Age.
As early youth in brightness vies, With advent of the day, When Sol first opes his golden eyes, And chases night away.
So may the virtuous man compare, In his declining day, With setting sun, in ev’ning fair, Passing from earth away.
And though his face no more we see, He still reflects his light, And shines with glorious majesty, In other realms more bright.
And still his light doth ne’er decline, But gath’ring up fresh store, Through ages yet to come, shall shine, And shine, forever more.
Acrostic.
Enraptured thoughts intuitive, Make haste to greet thy page. Melodious with sweet accord, And classic too with age.
And ever may the sacred nine, Lead thee to their embrace, Inspire thy song with themes divine, Choice gems select from nature’s mine, Enriched with matchless grace.
Be thine a life of social joy, Removed from care and pain, On earth thy early years employ, With prospect of that gain No mortal here can realize, Eternal bliss beyond the skies.
Work To-Day.
Youth’s the time; Youth’s the season! Learn and labor while you may, Hear the voice of age and reason,— Work to-day.
Labor hard in morning’s prime, Hasten on without delay, Make the most of early time— Work to-day.
Up betimes, nor let the sun Find you sleeping or at play, Sleep enough when life is done— Work to-day.
Cull the sweets from ev’ry flower, Seize the moments while you may, Nor idly pass one sunny hour— Work to-day.
On the Death of a Child.
Dear sister, has thy little son, Been snatched from thy embrace, Thy fav’rite child, thy darling one, Has left a vacant place.
His father oft with little John Beguil’d the hours away, To watch his little fav’rite son, Enjoy his childish play;
For there was laughter in his eye, And health was on his cheek, I fancy that he’s standing by, And almost hear him speak.
The patt’ring of his little feet, In fancy’s ear is heard, The music of his voice as sweet, As singing of a bird.
The objects that we fondly prize, How soon they pass away, And we are left to realize, The emblems of decay.
Dear sister, be resigned then, Nor let your faith grow dim, He cannot come to you again, But you can go to him.
Spring.
Awake and sing, for early Spring Comes forth with beauty gay, With joy elate, both small and great Now bless the happy day.
Through all the earth comes beauty forth, So sweet, so fresh and fair, And ev’ry sound that echoes round, Comes with a gladsome air.
While from the hill the little rill, Comes trickling down so clear, Its bubbling voice made me rejoice, In many an early year.
Along the mead where’er we tread, Will little flow’rets spring, And through the air in colors rare, Waves many a tiny wing.
Back to their home, the songsters come, And gaily, blithely sing, The sun looks gay, I love the day, The sweet and early spring.
Hope.
When storms arise, and tumults jar, And wreck this mortal form, There is a bright, a lovely star, That shines above the storm.
’Tis hope that buoys our spirits up, Along the chequer’d way, And when we drain the bitter cup It points a brighter day.
Though all the ills of life stand by, It proffers still to save; And when the shades of death are nigh, It looks beyond the grave.
Autumn.
How sad the breath of autumn sighs, With mourning and decay; The woods are clothed in varying dyes, Of funeral array.
Where beauty bloomed of late around, On mountain top and vale, Now wither’d foliage strews the ground, And tells a piteous tale.
And summer birds are on the wing, Bound for a warmer sky, They greeted us in early spring— They bid us now good bye.
So pass away our early years, Youth sinks into decay, And age, like autumn soon appears, And quick we pass away.