a very melancholy mood. As
he went out, he patted his dog upon the head, and, out of the fulness
of his heart, said to him with an afflicted air, "_Tu vois, mon ami,
comme l'on nous traite_,--You see, my friend, how I am used." The dog
looked up wistfully in his face, and returned him an answer with his
tears. He accompanied him till he was at some distance from the
General's, when, finding him engaged in company, he took that
opportunity of leaving him with people who might justify him if
accused. Upon which the dog, returning back to the house of the
haughty officer, entered the great room, and taking hold of the gold
tassel at one of the corners of the cloth, ran forcibly back, and drew
after him the whole preparation, which in a moment lay strewed on the
ground in a vast heap of broken glasses; thus revenging his master's
quarrel, and ensuring as unexpected a reception to the General's
requests as the latter had given to those of the Count.

One of the St. Bernard 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. In the
winter of 1816, 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 mountain, 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. They set forth on their
way down the mountain. In the mean time the anxious family of the poor
courier, alarmed at his long absence, commenced the ascent of the
mountain, in hopes of meeting him, or obtaining some information
respecting him. Thus at the moment he and his guides were descending,
his family were toiling up the icy steep, crowned with the snows of
ages. A sudden crackling noise was heard, and then a thundering roar
echoing through the Alpine heights--and all was still. Courier, and
guides, and dogs, and the courier's family, were at the same moment
overwhelmed by one common destruction--not one escaped. Two avalanches
had broken away from the mountain pinnacles, and swept with impetuous
force into the valley below.

[Illustration: CHASSEUR AND CUBA BLOODHOUNDS.]

THE BLOODHOUND.

"His snuffling nose,