persons living in situations of less constant
and severe trials can have any just conceptions of. When we look at
the extraordinary sagacity of the animal, his great strength, and his
instinctive faculties, we shall feel convinced how admirably he is
adapted to fulfil the purpose for which he is chiefly employed,--that
of saving lives in snow-storms.

The peculiar faculty of the St. Bernard dogs is shown by the curious
fact, that if a whelp of this breed is placed upon snow for the first
time, it will begin to scratch it, and sniff about as if in search of
something. When they have been regularly trained, they are generally
sent out in pairs during heavy snow-storms in search of travellers,
who may have been overwhelmed by the snow. In this way they pass over
a great extent of country, and by the acuteness of their scent
discover if any one is buried in the snowdrift. When it is considered
that Mount St. Bernard is situated about 8000 feet above the level of
the sea, and that it is the highest habitable spot in Europe, and
that the road which passes across it is constantly traversed, the
great utility of the dogs is sufficiently manifest. Neither is the
kindness, charity, and hospitality of the good monks less to be
admired than the noble qualities of these dogs.

"Under every circumstance," says Mr. Brockedon, "in which it is
possible to render assistance, the worthy religieuses of St. Bernard
set out upon their fearful duty unawed by the storm, and obeying a
higher Power; they seek the exhausted or overwhelmed traveller,
accompanied by their dogs, whose sagacity will generally detect the
victim though buried in the snow. The dogs, also, as if conscious of a
high duty, will roam alone through the day and night in these desolate
regions, and if they discover an exhausted traveller will lie on him
to impart warmth, and bark and howl for assistance."[P]

Mr. Mathews, in his "Diary of an Invalid," gives this testimony in
praise of the inmates of St. Bernard. "The approach," he says, "to the
convent for the last hour of the ascent is steep and difficult. The
convent is not seen till you arrive within a few hundred yards of it;
when it breaks upon the view all at once, at a turn in the rock. Upon
a projecting crag near it stood one of the celebrated dogs, baying at
our advance, as if to give notice of strangers. These dogs are of a
large size, particularly high upon the legs, and generally of a milk
white, or of a tabby