rince
of Wales, and carried a man on his back, whom he set down on the rope six
times, while he rested.

* * * * *

News has reached us that a great avalanche of snow has fallen upon the
Monastery of St. Bernard, and has destroyed the left wing of the building,
though happily without costing any lives.

[Illustration: The St. Bernard at home.]

The Great St. Bernard is a mountain pass in the Swiss Alps, and the
monastery was built in the year 963 by a nobleman named Bernard de
Menthon, for the use of pilgrims on their way to Rome.

As the years have passed away, the pilgrims have become tourists, but
still the monastery's doors have been open for all who asked for shelter
there. There is sleeping accommodation for one hundred people, but in bad
weather as many as six hundred guests have been sheltered at one time.

Snow avalanches like the one which has destroyed the wing of the monastery
are of frequent occurrence there. An avalanche is a mass of snow, which,
getting loosened from the mountain heights, falls down to the valley,
often bearing masses of rock and earth with it. As it sweeps down the
mountain side it carries all before it, and when it is finally checked in
its course, it smothers everything around in its mantle of white.

It has always been a part of the monks' duties, after one of these
dreadful avalanches has passed over, to go out into the mountains and
search for travellers who may have been buried by it.

To help them in this work they keep a number of the St. Bernard dogs,
which we all know and love so well.

The monks usually go out each day in couples, taking dogs and servants
with them.

The dogs can scent out any poor creature who may lie buried in the snow,
and they run around, sniffing and seeking, seeming thoroughly to
understand what is expected of them. When they find any one, they howl,
and scratch at the snow till their masters come to them.

They are so clever that they often show the monks the way home, when all
traces of the road are shut out by the snow.

Sometimes, when the storm is so bad that the monks dare not venture, the
dogs are sent out alone, each with a little keg of brandy tied round his
neck. They find the travellers, and show them the way to the monastery.

One of these wonderful dogs, named Barri, saved twenty persons from a
horrible death.

GENIE H. ROSENFELD.

We stated, in regard to