The Irish standard., 1908-03-07
IS W0RLp-FAMEO
The Famous Monastery of St.
Bernard In the Alps.
How a Protestant Writer Fared
With the Kindly Monks.

The Christian Herald. leading Eng
lish Nonconformist organ, publishes
the following interesting and sympa-
thetic account of visit to the famous
Monastery of ST. Bernard in the Alps:
All the morning our carriage had
been slowly climbing up the long thir-
ty mile road from Martigny to the st.
Bernard pass. Suddenly, in the course
Of the afternoon, the temperature
dropped, for we had passed the snow
line; at the same time the scenery
grew grandiose, rugged, impressive in
it's nakedness. The submits of the
mountains seemed to pierce the cloud
less ether overhead with an air of IT,
tanic defiance; on all sides we beheld
thick, solid layers of snow which new
or wholly melts, although in the sum-
mer much of it Is carried down into
the valleys in vast volumes Of rushing
water.
Our horses went more and more
slowly, with more and more frequent
halts, along the zig-zagging, ever
rising road, till at length we felt that
we must get out and walk, in sheer
humanity. 1t is long after 6 O'Clock
nearly ten hours since leaving Mar
tgny, that we find ourselves in sight
Of the world-famed hospice-a build
ing possessing no architectural preten-
sions, but solid enough to Withstand
the tlerciest onrush Of the elements
during the ten months winter obtain
ing on those heights.
Here labor the "Canonical Brothers
!; Of st. Augustine"-some twenty in
number-bound by the rules of their
y Order to give board and shelter to all
travellers without distinction, asking
for no return, and to 60 to the assist
ance Of such as lose their way on the
& mountain, in fog or snow-a task in
which they are helped by their famous
dogs, with their almost human intelli-
gence and superhuman strength. If
ever there was a case in which burden
some regulations have been observed
with such scrupulous fidelity, it is
here; for while the hospice entertains
some twenty to twenty-five thousand
travellers in the course of the season,
kindly and cheerfully, not word is
uttered asking for payment
You put your donation into the re-
ceptacle which is placed for that pur-
pose quite unobtrusively in the chapel,
but which no one even points out to
you, it being left to your honor and
your resources whether and how much
you will give; but no tourist should
receive the hospitality Of these self
sacrificing monks without leaving at
least eight francs-a sum he would
nave to pay at any hotel.
;, Our driver has taken us up some
steps into a vestibule, and rings a
huge bell. which brings the brother
almoner, a bright, mobile, businesslike
parsonage, who with smile allots
rooms to our party Of four. Good
rooms they are. long and narrow, with
quaint old-fashioned, canopied beds,
which promise plenty of comfort, and
little windows that look out upon the
mountain lake, whose ice in some years
does not thaw at all. We imagine the
brethrens' quarters make somewhat
fewer concessions to mans love of
4 ease. As We mount the stone stairs
we notice the inscription "Salon" over
door, and from behind it there reach
I 81 sound we should never have ex-
pected to hear in these surroundings
plano playing, quite gay and lively:
nothing less, in fact, than the strains
I OF Rossinis "Barbiere de Seyiglia."
We had arrived, it seems, at the
psyohological-or, as some of our par
5sty called it, the Observation-Disclosures
ment; in other words, dinner was lust
shout to be served and we were cour-
teously requested to hurry our prelim-
5anaries. We enter the dining room,
and find some fifty guests assembled
SAAAu sIO 'dplc, BEoupeQ, so far as we
could Judge. in nationalities, French,
italian, English, and German. The
servitors pass busily around, helping
US to a substantial meal Of four cour
ses. There is a pleasant polysot hum
! q conversation, with no more con-
straint than you would meet in a hotel.
After the meal most of the visitors re-
sort to the salon, to chat, smoke and
sfndite picture cards innumerable.
We try a short walk along the lake,
on the road which leads into Italy. and
lust obtain glimpse Of the statue of
St. Bernard. erected two years ago on
the ruins of a Roman temple of Jove.
But we are now 2.472 meters above the
sea level; a thick fog is rising and
the air strikes bitterly cold; moreover.
I'VE are ALL tired ont h., H. 49,,