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ktown, Cecil county, Md., May 11th, 1838. He received his early education in the common school of Cecilton, and was afterwards sent to a military academy at Brandywine Springs, in New Castle county, Delaware, and graduated at Delaware College in 1858. He is among the very best classical and literary scholars that his native county has produced. Mr. Cruikshank studied law for about a year in the office of Charles J.M. Gwinn, of Baltimore, but was compelled by the threatened loss of sight to relinquish study until 1865, when he completed the prescribed course of reading in the office of Colonel John C. Groome, in Elkton, and was admitted to the Elkton Bar on September 18th, 1865, and on the same day purchased an interest in _The Cecil Democrat_, and became its editor, a position he still continues to fill. In 1883 Mr. Cruikshank became connected with the Baltimore _Day_, which he edited while that journal existed. Mr. Cruikshank, in 1869, married his cousin Sarah Elizabeth Cruikshank. They are the parents of five children--three of whom survive. Mr. Cruikshank is one of the most forcible and brilliant editorial writers in the State, and the author of a number of chaste and erudite poems written in early manhood, only two or three of which have been published. STONEWALL JACKSON. [1863.] AN IMPROMPTU ON HEARING OF HIS DEATH. Bury the mighty dead-- Long, long to live in story! Bury the mighty dead In his own shroud of glory. Question not his purpose; Sully not his name, Nor think that adventitious aid Can build or blight his fame, Nor hope, by obloquizing what He strove for, glory's laws Can be gainsaid, or he defiled Who'd honor any cause. Question not his motives, Ye who have felt his might! Who doubts, that ever saw him strike, He aimed to strike for right? His was no base ambition;-- No angry thirst for blood. Naught could avail to lift his arm, But love of common good. Yet, when he deigned to raise it, Who could resist its power? Or who shall hope, or friend, or foe, E'er to forget that hour? His life he held as nothing. His country claimed his all. Ah! what shall dry that country's tears Fast falling o'er his fall? His life he held as nothing, As through the flame he trod; To duty gave he all of earth And all beyond to God. The justness of his effort He never lent to doubt. His aim, his arm, his all was fix'd To put the foe to rout.
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