St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1883-12-15

And she married him gladly-she did-she
did.
Harper's Bazaar.
THE LAST ST. BERNARD.
.sAh, he was noble animal. I hat
not seen his like again, and the speaker
sighed as he pulled out a great cloud of
smoke from a long-stemmed pipe.
It was DR.. Hans Frolich, recently
arrived German physician, who made
this remark. He was seated in his
Office on Jefferson, near Second street,
and between the intervals of long inha-
lations from a meerschaum with that
rich brown coloring SO dear to the
hearts of genuine smokers, he was talk
ing to a reporter. A pleasant-faced
looking student was this German ply
stefan, with rosy countenance that was
just now tinged with 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
doctors sensibilities, and at once he
became deeply interested. He spoke
English, but with such hesitancy as
made his meaning very difficult of COM
prehension, 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:
.sThose dogs at the Exposition" said
he, fare fine animals, but they are not
true st. Bernards. They are only
crosses, as the pure breed became ex-
tinct forty years ago in the death of the
last and noblest specimen of his race.
Barry was his name, and knew him
well in my boyish 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 as Of years, and he met his death at
the hands OF fool Englishman after he
had saved e-and-forty lives.
Barry was the property of a monas-
terry on Mont Blanc. The brotherhood
was 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, as it
was never to be again. He had been
brought up by them from the time he
was a whimpering puppy up to the days
of his useful, middle-aged doghood.
The kennel that sheltered him first was
the one where all his days were passed.
He grew up among the monks and
their fat Abbot, and took his food from
their hands fondly and gratefully.
.'His life was not an idle one. For
merly the monastery had owned some
thing over dozen of the pure breed,
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 were
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 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 a time have
heard the good old monks dwell on his
virtues. When he was only year old
he had distinguished himself by saving
the life of young child 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 trar-
.eler on his back, with whom he had
struggled all the toilsome day over the
.snow-drifts. Not one, but many such
were his performances, and if ever a
brute deserved canonization he did, for
he met with martyrs death.
!. Forty years ago he died. The win
ter had been one Of the coolest and Sc
verest ever known in Switzerland and
many guest had reason to be thankful
for the accommodations of the old mon
astery and its fat Abbot. Barry was
getting old then, but he was. hale and
hearty as ever. One morning. after q
violent night, during which two ava
ianches had fallsn 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