been humbly and patiently carried on.

Not long afterward, in a similar way, Bernard attacked the Graian Alps,
overthrew the column of Jupiter, crushed its bright diamond to the
finest dust, which he scattered in the winds, and built in its place a
second Hospice, which, with the pass, has borne ever since the name of
the Little Saint Bernard.

Silver and gold, the builders of this Hospice had none. Ever since the
beginning, they have exercised their charities at the expense of those
who cared for the Lord's work. All who pass by are treated alike.
Those who are received into the Hospice can leave much or
little--something or nothing, whatever they please,--to carry the same
same help to others.

In the book of the good Saint Francis de Sales long ago, so the
chronicle says, these words were written:

"There are many degrees in charity. To lend to the poor, this is the
first degree. To give to the poor is a higher degree. Still higher to
give oneself; to devote one's life to the service of the poor.
Hospitality, when necessity is not extreme, is a counsel, and to
receive the stranger is its first degree. But to go out on the roads
to find and help, as Abraham did, this is a grade still higher. Still
higher is to live in dangerous places, to serve, aid, and save the
passers-by; to attend, lodge, succor, and save from danger the
travelers, who else would die in cold and storm. This is the work of
the noble friend of God, who founded the hospitals on the two
mountains, now for this called by his name, Great Saint Bernard, in the
diocese of Sion, and the Little Saint Bernard, in the Tarentaise."

And so the Hospice was built, and in the enthusiastic words of a
chronicle of the times, "Tears and sorrow were banished, peace and joy
have replaced them; abundance has made there her abode; the terrors
have disappeared, and there reigns eternal springtime. Instead of
hell, you will find there paradise." Not quite paradise, perhaps, so
far as the elements are concerned, but a dozen kindly men, a legion of
dogs, big, cheerful, and noisy, a warm fire, a simple meal, and a
God-speed to all men, whatever their race, or creed, or temper.

I need add but a word more of the history of Bernard himself. One day
an old man and his wife came up to visit the Hospice and to pay their
respects to the monk who had founded it. Bernard met them there, and
at once recognized his father and mother. He received them
sympathet