312 



DOG. 



" The convent of the great St. Bernard is situated 

 at the top of the mountain known by that name, near 

 one of the most dangerous passages of the Alps, 

 between Switzerland and Savoy. On these regions 

 the traveller is often overtaken by the most severe 

 weather, even after days of cloudless beauty, when 

 the glaciers glitter in the sunshine, and the pink 

 flowers of the rhododendron appear as if they were 

 never to be sullied by the tempest. But a storm 

 suddenly comes on ; the roads are rendered impas- 

 sable by drifts of snow ; the avalanches, which are 

 huge loosened masses of snow or ice, are swept into 

 the valleys, carrying trees and crags of rock before 

 them. The hospitable monks, though their revenue 

 is scanty, open their doors to every stranger that 

 presents himself. To be cold, to be weary, to be 

 benighted, constitute the title to their comfortable 

 shelter, their cheering meal, and their agreeable 

 discourse. But their attention to the distressed does 

 not end here. They devote themselves to the dan- 

 gerous task of searching for those unhappy persons 

 who may have been overtaken by the sudden storm, 

 and would perish but for their charitable succour. 

 Most remarkably are they assisted in these truly 

 Christian offices. They have a breed of noble dogs 

 in their establishment, whose extraordinary sagacity 

 often enables them to rescue the traveller from 

 destruction. Benumbed with cold, weary in the 

 search for a lost track, his senses yielding to the 

 stupifying influence of frost, which betrays the ex- 

 hausted sufferer into a deep sleep, the unhappy man 

 sinks upon the ground, and the snow drift covers 

 him from human sight. It is then that the keen 

 scent and the exquisite docility of these admirable 

 dogs are called into action. Though the perishing 

 man lie ten, or even twenty feet beneath the snow, 

 the delicacy of smell with which they can trace him 

 offers a chance of escape. They scratch away the 

 snow with their feet ; they set up a continued hoarse 

 and solemn bark, which brings the monks and 

 labourers of the convent to their assistance. To 



Erovide for the chance that the dogs, without human 

 elp, may succeed in discovering the unfortunate 

 traveller, one of them has a flask of spirits round his 

 neck, to which the fainting man may apply for 

 support, and another has a cloak to cover him. 

 These wonderful exertions are often successful ; and, 

 even where they fail of restoring him who has 

 perished, the dogs discover the body, so that it may 

 be secured for the recognition of friends ; and such is 

 the effect of the temperature, that the dead features 

 generally preserve their firmness for two years. One 

 of these noble creatures was decorated with a medal, 

 iu commemoration of his having saved the lives of 

 twenty-two persons, who, but for his sagacity, must 

 have perished. Many travellers who have crossed 

 the passage of St. Bernard since the peace have seen 

 this dog, and have heard, around the blazing fire of 

 the monks, the story of his extraordinary career. 

 He died about the year 1816, in an attempt to 

 carry a poor traveller to his anxious family. The 

 Piedmontese courier arrived at St. Bernard in a very 

 stormy season, labouring to make his way to the little 

 village of St. Pierre, in the valley beneath the 

 mountain where his wife and children dwelt. It was 

 in vain that the monks attempted to check his 

 resolution to reach his family. They at last gave 

 him two guides, each of whom was accompanied by a 

 dog, of which one was the remarkable creature whose 



services had been so valuable to mankind. Descending 

 from the convent, they were instantly overwhelmed 

 by two avalanches, and the same common destruction 

 awaited the family of the poor courier, who were 

 toiling up the mountain in the hope to obtain some 

 news of their expected friend. They all perished. 

 A story is told of one of these dogs, who, having 

 found a child unhurt, whose mother had been de- 

 stroyed by an avalanche, induced the poor boy to 

 mount upon his back, and thus carried him to the 

 gate of the convent. The subject is represented in a 

 French print." 



The WATER SPANIEL is even a more attached animal 

 than any of the land ones. There are two principal 

 varieties, the great and the small, or poodle. They 

 do not differ very much in appearance, only their 

 heads are rather larger and rounder than those of 

 the land spaniels, and their hair is longer, and more 

 curly and silky. 



The following is one of the most remarkable 

 instances of fidelity in this most attached of all the 

 canine race ; and though it has been frequently in 

 print, we give it without the least hesitation : 



" A few days before the overthrow of Robespierre, 

 a revolutionary tribunal had condemned Monsieur R., 

 an ancient magistrate, and a most estimable man, on 

 pretence of finding him guilty of a conspiracy. Mon- 

 sieur R. had a water spaniel, at that time about 

 twelve years old, which had been brought up by him, 

 and had scarce ever quitted his side. Monsieur R. 

 was cast into prison, and in the silence of a living 

 tomb he was left to pine in thought under the iron 

 scourge of the tyrant, who, if he extended life to 

 those whom his wantonness had proscribed, even 

 until death became a prayer, it was only to tantalise 

 them with the blessing of murder, when he imagined 

 he could more effectually torture them with the curse 

 of existence. 



" This faithful dog, however, was with him when 

 he was first seized, but was not suffered to enter the 

 prison. He took refuge with a neighbour of his late 

 master's. But, that posterity may judge clearly of 

 the times when Frenchmen existed at that period, it 

 must be added, that this man received the poor dog 

 tremblingly, and in secret, lest his humanity for his 

 friend's dog should bring him to the scaffold. Every 

 day, at the same hour, the dog returned to the door 

 of the prison, but was still refused admittance. He, 

 however, uniformly passed some time there. Such 

 unremitting fidelity at last won even on the porter of 

 a prison, and the dog was at length allowed to enter. 

 The joy of both master and dog was mutual ; it was 

 difficult to separate them ; but the honest jailor, 

 fearing for himself, carried the dog out of the prison. 

 The next morning, however, he again came back, and 

 once on each day afterward was regularly admitted 

 by the humane jailor. When the day of receiving 

 sentence arrived, notwithstanding the guards, which 

 jealous power, conscious of its deserts, stations 

 around, the dog penetrated into the hall, and couched 

 himself between the legs of the unhappy man, whom 

 he was about to lose for ever. 



" The fatal hour of execution arrives ; the doors 

 open ; his dog receives him at the threshold ! his 

 faithful dog alone, even under the eye of the tyrant, 

 dared to own a dying friend ! He clings to his hand 

 undaunted. ' Alas! that hand will never more be 

 spread upon thy head, poor dog ! ' exclaimed the 

 condemned. The axe falls ! but the tender adherent 



