The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1876-03-01
THE MAIL-CARRlER.
A STORY OF TIE WINTER OF 1864

A STORY OF TIE WINTER OF 1864
In tho 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 recog,
nized by the old associates of its lawful
owner, and even 70 him, doubt not,
would have sounded strangely.
He was better known, particularly on
the borders, as Captain Jack.
After his own simple fashion he was q
character with a history. His title he
won gallantly, and wore easily.
One day, in the Rocky mountains, q
small party Of miners, surrounded by an
overpowering number of Indians. re-
treated into canyon. For three days
and nights, with little intermission, the
combat continued. On 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 defense.
When relief came, he was found be-
hind an e1temporized barricade, at the
entrance of the canyon, his companions
either dead or wounded, holding his
post with a desperate courage which
would have abated with death only.
At the time I presented him to the
reader he was fully fifty years old, but
was still in his prime; tall and swarthy,
no flesh to spare, plenty of bone and
muscle and awkwardness, his head COW
cred with shock of sandy hair, hecked
with gray, his beard shaggy, his fea-
lures angular.
Naturally methodical and fond of
quiet, he sought a peaceful ending in a
stormy career, and had, as he expressed
it, "settled down." With his small
earnings he bought a cottage. and for an
avocation carried the mail between two
little towns in Nebraska, some fifteen
miles apart.
The winter of 1864 is memorable for
it's severity. Accounts from all parts of
the country added to the long list of the
suffering death. Many perished with
cold at their very thresholds, in the
thoroughfares of cities, where relief was
on every side, strong men fell and wei
buried in the snow. A black year in
the annals of the poor.
One morning of that year, the ther
mometer way down below zero, John
Dalton, mounted on his faithful horse,
received the mail. For five years, come
and 60, promptly to the minute, in
good weather and also in bad, excepting
only Sundays, he made his daily jour
ney.
He took the old familiar road, passed
by his humble home without appearing
to notice it, and, as was his wont, stop
ped on the summit OF knoll command
ing the east front of the cottage, and
only few yards from it, for what he
called his blessing" At the window
stood his wife with an infant in herarms,
the wee thing waving its hands and
smiling. On either side were little
boy aud girl, each mounted on chai,
the better to get last look at the father
who was SO dear to them.
This was the goodbye that warmed
the mans blood, made his lips quiver
with a smile, and sent him on his way
rejoicing.
Between its termini the road had two
distinctive features, about five miles
apart, known as the Lone Tree ; the
other was called Bacon's Run, ravine
bordered by thin growth of stunted
timber. On the line of the road, or III
proximity to it, there was no habitation
or shelter for man or beast. The prairie
was high and rolling.
The first part of the journey was made
in the usual way. At half-past two
o'clock in the afternoon Dalton started
on his return. He was not twenty yards
away when he was overtaken by the
postmaster, who charged him to be dill
gent in the delivery of highly impor
tant letter.
At this time change had taken place
in the weather. A thick haze overspread
the sun, paling it to the hue of silver;
the wind had shifted to the northeast.
These signs had not escaped Dalton's
notice. The mou taineer, like the
sailor, soon learns that life itself often
depends on the quick recognition of the
friendly warnings which nature gives tC
the wayfarer. He scanned the narrow
ing horizon, and urged his horse to a
brisk trot. He reached Bacon's Run.
passed it, and mouLtcd to the level OF
the prairie. From this point, on clear
day, the top of the Lone Tree could he
outlined, but now the clouds had he
come 80 heavy and lowering, and the
haze had SO thick encd, that objects ut al
at hand were indistinct. Melancholy,
6tful gusts came passing the traveller
from all quarters, as if telling him tc
hasten. As he looked at the clouds hif
countenance wore an air Of apprehen
sion. He was not kept long in. state
of expectancy.
A mote, pure and white, came hutter
ing down, bufieted by the wind, nov
here, now there, uncertain where to 60
1t firally sought refnge on Dalton
;urred coat. Others soon followed will
hesitation, now stopping and ascending
as though to return to the home whence
they came, bnt finally descending ant
seeking rest in obscure hiding places
These insignificant sprcks became larger
more numerous, bolder, took possession
and covered all things with carmen
of white. The situation was plain-s
snow storm on the prairie was at hand
Dalton thought of the comfortable lit
tie cottage by the roadside, and the dea
ones it contained. One night in th'
mountains he had hattled against th
snow, and, out of ten companions, b
was the only survivor of that terrible e1
perience.
The snow now ragged with increasing
power. The snowfakes were blow
about in binding myriads. All trace
Of the road, at best never very clearl..
defined, were covered. The bitin,
wintry blasts went moaning by nigh
came prematurely in wall of darkness
all was wild waste for the sport of tn
elements.
Dalton, unable 10 see an inch ahead