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.