The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1875-04-16
TIE MAIL CARRIER.
A story OF the winter OF So 4.

In a frontier town Of Nebraska lived John
Dalton. This name had fallen into such
state of neglect and non-use that it would
scarcely have been recognized by the old
associates of its lawful owner, and even to
him, 1 doubt not, would have sounded
strangely.
He was better known, particularly OH the
borders, as Captain Jack.
After bis own simple fashion he was a
character with history. His title he won
gaIlantly, aud wore easily.
One day in the Rocky Mountains small
party of miners, surrounded by an over
powering number Of Indians, retreated into
canon. For three days and nights,
with little intermission, the combat con-
tinued. Or the first day the leader of the
gallant little band fell, and Dalton, then a
youth, was selected, on account of his cool,
determined bravery, to carry on the de-
fence.
When relief came, he was found behind
an extemporized barricade, at the entrance
of the canon, his companions either dead
or wounded, holding his post with des-
perate courage which would have abated
with death only.
His lines had not fallen in pleasant
places. He had been a participant and
leader in the wild scenes of adventure and
danger which, like so many throes, att
tended the development of the great West.
He had belonged to that hard class which
forms the first line of the advance guard
of civilization-those who 20 ahead and
open the way, throw the first rude bridge
across the mountain tor rent, first penetrate
into the wilds of the enemy, are the scouts
and videttes fall bravely and die in remote
places, unknown and unnoticed. When
the history of the conflicts is written, their
names are not on the rolls of fame.
Firm, brave, honest and true, Dalton
early acquired an ascendency over his COM
panions. Quiet and unassuming, his words
always carried weight. His life had been
fur1owed by hardship his body bore the
marks of many struggles, but bis neture
had escap ed without blemisb. A nobler,
kindlier heart never beat. AS husband,
father and friend, he had no superior.
AT the time presented him to the reader
he was fully Fl fly years old, but still in his
prime. Tan and swarthy, no flesh TO spare.
plenty Of bone and muscle and awkward,
ness, his head covered with q shock of
sandy hair, ficcked with gray, his beard
shaggy, his features angular. Held to the
accepted standard Of beauty, he had moth
ing to commend him unless we except bis
large blue eyes, as gentle in expression as
those of a maiden, and beaming with good
will to man.
Naturally methodical and fond of quiet.
he sought peaceful ending to a stormy
career, and had, as he expressed it "set-
tied down." With his small earnipps he
Bought cottage, and for an svocation
carried the mail between two little towns
in Nebraska, some fifteen miles apart.
The winter of 1864 is memorable for its
severity. Accounts from all parts of The
country added to the long lists of suffering
and death. Many perished with cold at
! their very thresholds; in the thoroughfares
OF cities, where relief was on every side.
strong men fell and were buried in the
snow. A black year in the annals of the
poor.
One morning of that year, the thermome-
ter way down below zero, John Dalton,
mounted on his faithful horse, received
the mail. For five years, como and 70,
promptly to the minute, in good weather
and bad, excepting only Sundays, and the
day when his first born was buried in the
churchyard, he had made his daily journey.
he took the old familiar road, passed by
MS humble home without appearing 10
notice 1t, and. as was his wont, stopped on
the summit Of knoll commanding the
east front OF the cottage, and only few
yards from it, for what he called his ssbless-
ing" At the window stood bis wife with
an infant in her arms, the wee thing wav.
ing it's hand and smiling. On either side