"And there was one named Barry," put in Harry Barton, "who saved the lives of forty people, and they set up a monument of him in Paris."
"Correct," said Mr. Hartshorn. "There's no breed more famed in song and story than the St. Bernard. It was developed long ago by the monks of the Hospice of St. Bernard in Switzerland, who trained their dogs for the purposes you have mentioned. So many of them were lost, however, that the breed got into a bad way a hundred years ago and had to be brought back by crossing with the Newfoundland and other breeds. As I said, it is one of the largest breeds, sometimes weighing as much as two hundred pounds—more than most men."
"Are there some good St. Bernard stories?" asked Jack Whipple, who preferred anecdotes to descriptive particulars.
"A lot of them," said Mr. Hartshorn, "but there seems to be a good deal of sameness about them. They tell of the saving of Alpine travelers and shepherds, lost in snowstorms or caught in crevasses in glaciers. Some of them are very thrilling. The best story I ever read about a St. Bernard, however, had nothing to do with mountaineering.
"This dog was the beloved friend and constant companion of the Count of Monte Veccios, a Venetian nobleman. Now it became very necessary to the Count that he should obtain certain favors from General Morosini, who was somewhat difficult of approach, in spite of the fact that he was in much the same position himself. In order to gain his own ends, the General had arranged in his palace a gorgeous banquet in honor of the Doge of Venice, from whom he hoped to gain important concessions, and he had caused his great banquet table to be laden with gold and silver plate and much fine Venetian glass.
"The Count, hearing of these preparations, screwed up his courage and called on General Morosini. He praised to the skies the table appointments, which pleased the General, but as soon as he began to plead his own cause, the General became cold and unyielding and begged the Count to cease annoying him about these petty matters. As the Count left the General's palace, he turned to his faithful dog, with tears in his eyes, and said, 'You see, my friend, how badly I am used.'
"The St. Bernard was greatly affected by this, and he formed in his own mind a plan of revenge, since it was beyond his powers to secure justice. Unobserved, he stole back into the General's palace, and just as the Doge was arriving with his retinue, the dog seized the corner of the tablecloth in his mouth and dashed out of the house, upsetting the entire banquet and smashing most of the valuable glassware. I don't believe there is any moral to that story, but perhaps that won't spoil it for you.
"I don't believe I have any mastiff stories," continued Mr. Hartshorn, "but that breed must be mentioned in passing, as it is one of the very old and very famous breeds of England. The mastiff used to be popular here thirty years ago, but we seldom see any now, and sometimes I fear the breed is dying out. It's too bad, for he was a fine, powerful dog, brave and wise.
"Another fine dog that has gone out of fashion is the Newfoundland. There are still some good ones in England, but very few here. I suppose the Newfoundland has more rescues of drowning persons to his credit than any other breed, and it's a shame to see him go. The breed originated on the island of Newfoundland a hundred years ago, and you will still see a dog's head on the Newfoundland postage stamps.
"The Newfoundland has a waterproof coat and is a wonderful swimmer, so that a good many of the anecdotes told about dogs of this breed have to do with their exploits in the water. For example, there is one of a man who fell off a narrow foot-bridge into a swift mill stream. The miller's dog promptly dived in and rescued him, and having accomplished this, coolly plunged in again to save the man's hat that was just about to be swept over the dam. There are several amusing stories told of Newfoundlands dragging bathers to shore, quite against their wills, because the dogs fancied they were in danger.