The Brookhaven leader., 1883-12-13
THE LAST ST. BERNARD.


"Ah. he was noble animal / haf
not seen his like again and theHpeakcr
sighed rs he pulled out Il great cloud of
smoke from II long-stcmmed pipe.
Ii was DR.. Hans Frolich, q recently
arrived German phys cian, who made
this remark. He was seated in his
Office on jefferson, near Second street,
and between the intervals of long inha-
laliunS from mecrschaum with that
rich brown coloring so dear to the
hearts of genuine smokers, he. was talk
ing TO reporter. A pleasant-faced
looking student was this German ply
scan with Il rosy countenance that was
Just now tinged with a deep shade, of
regret. He was speaking of the bench
show which was then going on at the
Exposition, and the conversation drifted
naturally to the st. Bernard kennel, the
noble animals in which attracted so
much and such favorable attention.
This was a subject which touched the
do tors scnsibilitcs, and at once he
became deeply interested. He spoke
English, but with such hesitancy as
made his meaning very difficult Of com
prcheusion, and finally had to be
assisted by an Interpreter The story
which follows is an interesting one,
made more SO by its occurring under his
personal observation, and it is in his own
words:
Chose dogs at the Exposition" said
h., are fine animals, but they are not
tue st. Bcrnards. They are only
crosses, as the pure breed became ex-
tinst Forty years ago in the death of the
list and nohlcSt specimen of his race.
Barry was his name, and | knew him
wei in my b2yish days. He was only a
dog, but he had the brains of man,
and more than his heart. He was old
when he died, but he was as full of hon
ors rs of years, and he met his death at
the hands of fool Englishman after he
had saved nine-and-fopy lives.
Barry was the property of monas-
tGry on Mont Blanc. The brotherhood
was n more than ordinarily pious one,
and the old monks loved the dog almost
as well as if he had been one Of their
own number. Well they might, for his
like had never been seen before, rs it
was never to be again. He had bee1f
brought up by them from the time he
was whimp'ring puppy up to the days
OF his useful, middle-agcd doghOod.
The kennel that sheltered him first was
the one where all his DAYS were passed.
lie grew up among the monks and
their fat Abbot, and took his food from
their hands fOndly and gratefully.
Ellis life was not an idle one. For
moriy the monastery hal owned some
"a a. e
but death from age and accident cut
them down one by one til Barry was
left the sole survivor and very king
of his race. Not but that there We're
many others, but they were partly
sprung from mongrel" stock, and were
larger and heavier, though useful ami
mails enough. This particular dog of
which l am speaking needed nothing
more than the rudiments of training.
1T seemed as if the wonderful instinct
OF his ancestors had all passed into that
shaggy head of his, and all their fidelity
into his heart. Many time i haye,
heard the good old monks, dwell on his
virtues. When he was only.a year old
he had distinguished himself by saving
the life of a young chi Hts which had
been overwhelmed in the drifts, spared
from the fate which carried its mother
TO the depths of the abyss on whose
edge the babe was lodged. His race
was always celebrated for their
strength and endurance, but his was
something extraordinary. Many time
he made his way back to the hospital
monks carrying some benumbed trav-
eler on his back, with whom he had
struggled all the toilsome day over the
snow-drifts. Not one, but many such
We're his performances, and if ever q
brute deserved canonization he did, for
ne met with martyrs death.
Forty years ago he died. The win
ter had been one of the coldest and Sc
Nerest ever known in Switzerland and
many guest had reason to he thankful
Tor the accommodations of the old mon
astery and its fat Abbot. Barry was
getting old then, but he was hale and
nearly as ever. One morning, after a
violent night, during which two ava
lanches had fallen and buried the mar
row road that climbed the sides of the
mountain, he was sent out to see if, per-
chance, he might, as he had done nine
and-forty times before, rescue some
buried traveller from the drifts. A roll
oi warm blankets was strapped on his
BACK, his barbed collar was put on his
neck, hunters flask of liquor was ats
lached, and the good monks sent him
out with their prayers and blessings
lie never came back alive.
About a mile from the monastery
ne came to freshly fallen avalanche in
The narrow road. That unerring in
stlnet of his taught poor Barry that
some traveller lay under the soft, white
snow, and he set to work to find him.
ne was right, for on the night before
one OF those travelling fools of English
men who think every other country
better than their own had tried to pass,
anu had been overwhelmed with his
guides. With that marvellous scent
Mwhich his years of experience
bad trained so perfecf1Y Barry