POSTMAN George Thorn was due to be away from home for a fortnight in 1914 when he did his annual stint as a naval reservist.

But when war was declared in August he was on board the battleship HMS Caesar - so right away he became a full time gunner in the Royal Marines Light Infantry instead of going back to his round in Cotherstone. He was one of 672 troops on the vessel as it went into battle action.

It must have come as a severe blow to his wife Isabel as they were married only the previous year. She was 20 and he 33 when they tied the knot at South Shields. She was from the Clasper family of Pittington.

The Caesar's first task was to help defend the port of Ostend. Later it guarded Gibraltar and then went on patrol in the Atlantic and West Indies.

George - full name George William Arland Thorn - got home on leave at times, so their first son Henry was born in 1916, followed by George in 1918. Henry became a GPO telephone engineer and George a policeman.

Their father sent letters of thanks to Cotherstone war relief committee thanking members for gloves, scarves and other warm items they sent him, as they helped him deal with intense cold. Other troops were equally gratefully for such gifts, sent out by a team led by Ernest Lingford.

When demobbed George became a genial postie once more, known for his cheery manner and wide grin as he trudged around the dale.

His family grew as other children arrived: Joyce in 1920, May (who died in infancy) in 1921, Ernest in 1922, Arthur in 1925 and Frank in 1927.

George was devoted to them, but tragically he did not live to see them all grow up. Isabel was expecting their eighth child when he died in February 1930 at the age of 50.

He rang the bells one Sunday at morning and evening services at Cotherstone Parish Church - a pastime he had enjoyed for years - before going home, feeling unwell, and passing away in his sleep due to a heart problem.

There was a huge turnout for his funeral - friends, postal colleagues, ex-service mates, British Legion officials and many of his customers. Isabel was too unwell to attend but was represented by the two oldest boys, then aged 14 and 12.

The final baby born that August was Ruth, who eventually married another popular postman, Bob Bell. The couple lived at Stainton Grove but Bob died some time ago. Ruth, the only survivor of the original family, is now well looked after in a nursing home.

Arthur will be remembered by many as he ran a busy farm and garden centre in Barnard Castle. His son Geoffrey lives in Evenwood. His other son Alan lives in Cotherstone with his wife Ann, who has been compiling a family tree and kindly supplied much of this information. Ernest became a farm manager and Frank lived in Cotherstone.

Postal historian David Charlesworth's intriguing pages can be found on facebook.com/royalmailteesdale

JOHN Nixon was admired by everyone for his knowledge of moors and wildlife when he spent 55 years as a gamekeeper for Raby Estates in Upper Teesdale.

Titled and wealthy sportsmen looked up to him as he guided them during successful grouse seasons.

At his home at Rigg Side, Harwood, he was always a generous host to anyone who called, and he enjoyed talking about memorable days in which vast numbers of birds were brought down by distinguished visitors.

But when he retired in 1913 he was remembered most for the way he rescued three terriers rather than for the shooting feats of those he helped.

In his younger days the Duke of Beaufort gave him a small pack of hounds to hunt foxes in the dales. They were kennelled at William Raine's home at Howgill.

One Thursday in June Nixon left there at 4am and set off with the pack for Westerhope Burn in Weardale. With him were other men, including Andrew Hood, William Raine and Len Hutchinson.

A heavy thunderstorm forced them to shelter in a mineshop at Hudeshope Top. They were there when they heard one old hound, Pilgrim, in full cry chasing a fox. They ran out to see the fox disappearing into a hole in limestone.

Three terriers were put in but after a lot of barking there was silence and they did not come out. Nixon ruled that they could not be abandoned. So eventually drills, picks and gunpowder were brought from a mine. Other men arrived to help. They drilled, dug and blasted during Thursday, Friday and Saturday before they forced a way in through thick rock on Sunday and could look down on a huge cavern part filled with water.

Nixon felt it was up to him to be lowered down on a rope. Men held the rope at the top as he went down 42 feet before shouting to them to stop.

Hanging in eerie half light he spotted the dogs perched on a narrow ledge close to the water, shivering and terrified. He grabbed one and was hauled up with it. Then he was lowered down twice more for the others.

There were cheers from the crowd of helpers as each terrier appeared. The gamekeeper was hailed as a hero, but he insisted he was only doing what was right. The fox was not seen again.

WHEN some lead mines were struggling to stay open in the dales as they were starting to lose money, John Harper Robinson decided to go into the industry.

He had no experience at all of lead mining, but reckoned he could make a success of it.

He had property valued at £20,000, so he was a wealthy man when he made a start in 1874. He put £150 into the business and took over the lease of a number of small mines, including Langdon, Lodge Gill and Martha.

He was 61 years old at the time, and could well have lived in comfort in Montalbo Terrace, Barnard Castle, for the rest of his days. But he was an eternal optimist. He believed he still had enough energy to make his money grow.

He had previously run a firm dealing in grease. It wasn't a success but he was confident of doing better this time.

However, the price of lead fell steadily. At one point it was going for £26 a ton but it dropped to £9 a ton. At the same time ore was becoming more difficult to find in Teesdale and Weardale as the best and easiest seams had been worked out.

The big operators found it difficult to keep going, but Robinson kept trying. After 20 years, however, all his property and money had gone and at the age of 81 in 1895 he was £2,247 in debt.

His only solution was to go bankrupt. He told a court hearing that trying to run his mines was like sailing a ship among a lot of icebergs. Asked if he had any experience of lead mining before he started he replied: "No. But I have experience now -- bitter experience."

He added that he had full accounts at home showing where all the money had gone, but he would need a horse and cart to get them to the court. There were plenty of old lead miners in the dales who could have warned right at the start what would happen.