THE MOLOSSIAN GROUP. 733 



their summit, and accumulating in vast heaps, which fill up 

 the hollows and ravines. The snow, as it falls in this high 

 region, does not descend in the form of flakes as in the lower 

 country ; but, as it passes through the rarefied air, it freezes, 

 and comes down in the form of a fine powder, which, when 

 the wind blows strong, is raised again from the surface 

 in clouds. Yfhen a sudden tempest arises, the whole air 

 is filled in an instant with this powder, through which the 

 light of the sun can hardly penetrate. When the lonely 

 traveller is overtaken by one of these Tourmentes, as they 

 are called, his life is in the utmost peril. Every moun- 

 tain top, or object that can guide him, is hidden. Bewil- 

 dered, he loses all knowledge of place, and strays from the 

 course he should pursue, until, lost in the darkness, and 

 struggling vainly amidst the soft snow under foot, he perishes 

 miserably. The kind monks and their assistants are con- 

 tinually on the watch, aided by their matchless dogs, which 

 have acquired, in a surprising degree, the faculty of discover- 

 ing the path of the traveller, or indicating the place where 

 he lies buried, perhaps under fathoms of snow. The dogs 

 are sent out alone by day or by night. They have frequently 

 attached to their neck a light hamper, in which is contained 

 a little food and cordial. When they reach the wanderer, 

 they conduct him to the Hospice, or if they find him, as too 

 often happens, stretched on the snow, and unable to move, 

 they bay aloud to give notice that some one has been found, 

 and often stretch themselves over him, that they may defend 

 him from the drifting snow, or warm him with the heat of 

 their own bodies, or, hurrying back to the monastery, bring 

 the assistance required. In this manner, great numbers of 

 human beings have been saved. Often, however, the dogs 

 find but the grave of the hapless traveller, already buried 

 underneath the drifting snow. In this case they utter a loud 

 and mournful howling, which, heard amid the darkness and 

 roaring of the storm, announces to the anxious fathers, that 

 they can now but render the last rites due to the dead. The 



