52 SECOND DIVISION OF THE 



and then, when he pauses from fatigue or uncertainty with regard to the 

 path he should pursue, his limbs are speedily benumbed. Fatal slumbers, 

 which he cannot shake off, steal upon him, and he crouches under some 

 ledge, and sleeps, to wake no more. The snow drifts on. It is almost con- 

 tinually falling, and he is soon concealed from all human help. 



On the top of Mount St. Bernard, and near one of the most dangerous 

 of these passes, is a convent, in which is preserved a breed of large dogs 

 trained to search for the benighted and frozen wanderer. Every night, 

 and particularly when the wind blows tempestuously, some of these dogs 

 are sent out. They traverse every path about the mountains, and their 

 scent is so exquisite that they can discover the traveller, although he may 

 lie many feet deep in the snow. Having found him, they set to work and 

 endeavour to scrape away the snow, uttering a deep bark that reverberates 

 from rock to rock, and tells those who are watching in the convent that 

 some poor wretch is in peril. Generally, a little flask of spirits is tied 

 round the neck of the animal, by drinking which the benighted traveller 

 may recruit his strength, until more effectual rescue arrive. The monks 

 hasten in the direction of the sound, and often succeed in rekindling the 

 vital spark before it is quite extinguished. Very many travellers have 

 been thus rescued from death by these benevolent men and their intelligent 

 and interesting quadruped servants. 



One of these Bernardine dogs, named Barry, had a medal tied round his 

 neck as a badge of honourable distinction, for he had saved the lives of 

 forty persons. He at length died nobly in his vocation. A Piedmontese 

 courier arrived at St. Bernard on a very stormy day, labouring to make 

 his way to the little village of St. Pierre, in the valley beneath the moun- 

 tain, where his wife and children lived. 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, one of which 

 was the remarkable creature whose services had been so valuable. Descend- 

 ing from the convent, they were overwhelmed by two avalanches or heaps 

 of falling snow, and the same destruction awaited the family of the poor 

 courier, who were travelling up the mountain in the hope of obtaining 

 some news of the husband and father. 



A beautiful engraving has been made of this noble dog. It represents 

 him as saving a child which he had found in the Glacier of Balsore, and 

 cherished, and warmed, and induced to climb upon his shoulders, and thus 

 preserved from, otherwise, certain destruction. 



THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. 



The Newfoundland is a spaniel of large size. He is a native of the 

 island of which he bears the name ; but his history is disgraceful to the 

 owners of so valuable an animal. The employment of the lower classes 

 of the inhabitants of St. John, in Newfoundland, is divided between the 

 cutting of wood, and the drawing of it and other merchandise in the 

 winter, and fishing in the summer. The carts used in the winter work 

 are drawn by these dogs, who are almost invariably urged and goaded on 

 beyond their strength, fed only with putrid salt-fish, and an inadequate 

 quantity even of that. A great many of them are worn out and die before 

 the winter is over; and, when the summer approaches, and the fishing 

 season commences, many of them are quite abandoned, and, uniting with 



