The Statesman.
London, England, 1820-05-03 00:00:00

(Cipasted•d frees riterday'e paper.)

The Couvent of St. Bernard is open to all travellers,
without distinction of age or sex, country, or religion.
On them do the ecclesiastics lavish all their Assistance,
and bestow all their consolations ; seeking- no other
recompense fur their cares, no other indemnity for
their expenses, than the throbs of conscious self-appro-
Intim which such a life cannot but insure. Poring
the sot 1111 l rr, the passage of the mountain is always
practicable and safe ; but when the snows begin to
fall it is extremely hazardous. The severity of the
cold, the density of tin. fogs, and the frequency of
sudden whirlwinds, are not the only dangers to be
feared ; every moment the traveller runs the risk of
being swallowed up by an avalanche, or precipitated
into some hidden abyss. The number of persuns who
cross the (trawl St. Bernard every year is reckoned at
front 1:i to 2i ,I 1011; it is principally frequented dur-
ing the fairs of Lonsliartly, or when either aisle of the
Alps h:t liens to e'perieurc a scarcity. 'I be Convent
is rah:filmed to acrummoil.te from 25 to 31; of the
higher class of travellers, and about 360 of an inferior
degree. 'I he former have excellent apartments, and
single beds : the latter sleep in two lar,e saloons, con-
taining a great nwo.her of litters. From the totith of
November to that of May t wii rallvil maron-
niers, daily deteriel the mountain to a rertai distance:
the one towards the Valais. the other tisls:,rtill Pied-
mont. They carry a small quantity of breail and wine,
and are accompanied by large slogs, trained to discover
the path through the midst of the slum, and to hunt
nut the tracks of atraying traveller-. When the ma-
runniers slip not return at their usual hour, or when a
traveller, noire fortunate than his companions, reaches
the Convent and announces their sli•tress, the ecclesi-
astics thelowlves, armed aids long iross.sbuil
sally forth mobd the slums, and 'miry to the relief of
the distress...) wanderers; they reanimate and sopport
their drooping spit its anti fr: .s; advancing before
theta, char a passage through the sts•ivr : and, not un-
frequently, carry tist-to by turns on their shimbletz.
The aretenrss soul rootage of the 110(3 are, howeva,
most eonapicuoas when in quest of a traveller elm
prised by an avalanche. If the virtinra of these moors-
NI art-blows be not too deeply buried, the slogs dis-
cover arm by the scent ; hut this instinct nor being
sufficiently pvertyl to enable thrive to riPtietn.:e far
throsigh the snow, the Monks sni I.ly the defect, by
sounding. with their long p .des, the suspected places.
When, from the nature of the resistance, they bare
reason to suspect that a Litman body is touched, they
quickly dear away the snow, and often bye the hap-
piness of restoring life to totbirtsanates, on whom, but
for them, life and iix ht had closed fur evermore. In
triumph they carry them to the Convest, and there
cherish then, in their bosoms as lung as wearied na-
ture respires their rare.
Such is the generous mission which these almost
divine now al*, these tutelary angels of misfortune and
misery, discharge. They deserve to he regarded as
one of the most signal blessings, at the same time that
they are roe of the mot glorious effects of religion.
Human nature, or philosophy, without that moving
spring, (-mild urnalcre no parallel ; could ily.miller no
Such I.lllllfferfrd examples of privation, zeal, anti de-
votion ; of men who, at the same moment that their
cares and anxieties are lavished sin this world, rest
their only hopes of reward upon another and a better.
It was with tears is my eyes that, on parting, I shook
kends with these generous ecclesiastics ; and sever
did I speak more sincerely, titan when assuring, then
of the warmth anti sincerity of those sentiments of af-
fection and respect with which I should ever cherish
their remembrance.

The storms that ili4fignred the world the two pre-
ceding day•, had not as yet subsided ; the quicksilver
was still at zero, and the snow continued to drift around
the Convent. I was much pleased to remain ender
that hospitable roof until the weather should change,
hut Alois my anxioits eagerness to breathe-the air of
Italy obliged me to decline. The good Fathers, how-
ever, would not allow me to venture out alone, parti-
cularly as my route lay down the Italia.. side of the
mountain, which is much steeper than the Swiss side,
and therefore ord. red a domestic to accompany me
until the difficulties of the pass were cleared. Within
a few hundred yards of the Convent, I passed the
boundary stone, and, with feelings of inexpressible
delight and veneration, hailed my entrance into Italy;
—ltaly, " the throne and grave of empires.•'
What classic recollections coated across my mind'
—what interesting associations my senses embraced'—
The wbOle Boman history was, like the Roman terri-
tory, spread out before me. I already imagined Car-
thaginian Hannibal and his troops forcing their toil-
some and dangerous march across the mountains that
I was desesnding;—in every gust of wind I heard the
martial blast of their trumpets ;—in every flitting
shade I caught the glitter of their arms, and the war-
.
tag of their banners. 3ly thoughts received a novel
impulse, and, regardless of the difficulty of the pass,
I pondered only upon days long since gone, and upon
deeds long since hidden i■ the night of time. The Km-
vess, as though is unison with my feelings, gradually
elated-up, and a genial atinosphel a sne,:eeded to the
wintry reii•me that I had so recently felt. I passed
the romantic ril;ages of St. Rend, St. flue.., Ktroubles,
i and llignirl, along an interesting road, now skirting