It was clear to me in a moment. I had mistaken the dead-house for the house of shelter! In fancy I could see the ghastly spectacle within, where bones of travelers whiten on through centuries in an atmosphere whose purity defies decay.
But, almost simultaneously with his other words, I heard my guide exclaim: "If you too would not join their number, en avant, en avant, vite, vite!" Then, seizing the bridle of my mule, he urged me toward the monastery. A few moments more and we arrived within its sheltering walls. One of the brothers helped me to dismount, and led me up the stone steps of the Hospice. And then, how blessed was our reception! How warm the fire blazing on the ample hearth! How good the hot soup and wine instantly brought us by the kind friars! How comforting the thought of our surroundings, as the baffled storm beat against the frost-covered windows, and seemed to shriek with rage at being cheated of its victims!
DOGS OF ST. BERNARD.
Never, while memory lasts, shall I cease to remember with love and gratitude those noble-hearted brothers of the St. Bernard.
BROTHERS OF ST. BERNARD.
Next morning the storm had cleared away; yet even in pleasant weather it is difficult to imagine anything more dreary than the situation of this monastery, locked thus in snow and ice, and sentineled by savage peaks, eight thousand feet above the sea. Even the pond adjoining it is gloomy from its contrast to all other lakes. Its waters are too cold for any kind of fish, and therefore fail to attract hither any kind of bird. Animal life has fallen off in making the ascent. Man and the dog alone have reached the summit.