3. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river; And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, TENNYSON. LESSON XXXVIII. THE CONVENT OF ST. BERNARD. Be nev ́o lent, having a dispo- | Gla ́çier, a great field or mass of sition to do good; kind. Con'vent, a company of people devoted wholly to a religious snow and ice, moving slowly down the mountain slopes, in the regions of perpetual snow. life; a house occupied by such Av'a lănçhe', a company. Monk, a person who retires from the world, and devotes himself wholly to a religious life; a member of a convent. Found'ed, provided for; estab lished. Săv ́oy ärd', an inhabitant of a vast body of snow, ice, and earth, plunging down a mountain. Chap ́el, a place of worship. the bodies of dead persons are Em bälm', to preserve from decay by means of balms or other oils and spices, as a dead body: AR away from any other habitation, perched on "FAR the summit of the snow-clad Alps, there exists a little world of active, benevolent men, who spend the best years of their lives in the rescue of their fellowmen from untimely death, and the amelioration of their sufferings. Storms of snow and clouds of mist come upon travelers so suddenly in those awful regions, that there is no time for escape, unless they can crawl into one of the little storm-huts, erected here and there on the snow-covered mountain, which are often visited by these good people and their dogs, bringing help and comfort to all poor, lost creatures they may find huddled there. 2. "It is the convent of St. Bernard. It was founded over nine hundred years ago by Bernard de Menthon, a Savoyard nobleman, who was thus the means of saving many a life. The Pass of St. Bernard, in which it is situated, has become famous since the first Napoleon crossed it with an army of forty thousand men on his way to Italy. The convent is the highest habitation in Europe. 3. "It is a fearful neighborhood for the good monks to pass their lives in. Fancy! no pleasant corn-fields, no trees, no fragrant groves; nothing but vast and gloomy mountains, frozen glaciers, yawning precipices, and thundering avalanches,-which in their fall scatter and crush all before them, rocks, precipices, and glaciers, all arrayed in one vast mantle of snow and ice. 4. "One moment the traveler may see a beautiful blue sky, hard, and cold, and bright, above his head. The sun may be shining, glittering on the snowy ramparts around. Suddenly all is changed! Deep, dense darkness surrounds him! A storm of mingled snow, hail, and rain, such as we have no idea of here, bewilders and terrifies the poor creature, who soon loses the track and wanders about deserted and hopeless, knowing, perhaps, that the convent is somewhere near, but knowing, also, that it is quite possible to be lost and perish even within a few yards of its walls. 5. "But at such times, the monks and their noble dogs keep a sharp look-out, and go out in little parties to search about the mountain side; and the dogs seem to take an equal interest with their masters in saving human life. When they go with the good brothers in search of travelers, they have food and cordials strung around their necks in a kind of little keg. 6. "Thus provided, and being able with their light feet to cross dangerous snow-sheets where men dare not venture, these dogs save many an unfortunate wanderer, cold, and lost, and dying, but for the timely help of these unhoped-for friends. The hounds are of a Spanish breed, large-limbed, deep-mouthed, and broad-chested, seemingly made for the difficult work they understand so well." 7. "I wonder what the dogs do when they find people," said Johnny, who was very much interested. 8. "If the poor creatures have resisted the drowsiness which always attacks people in intense cold, and to yield to which is death, the barking of the dog tells them that help is near; then, if they are half buried in the snow, he will lick their cold, nerveless fingers and faces, and drag them as far out as he can; he will push the little keg into their hands, and try to make them understand that they are to open it. 9. "Then he will bound back to fetch his masters, who, with their long alpenstocks or staffs in their hands, are waiting to hear the news. They know what the joyous bark of their messenger means, and follow him, if possible, to the place where their aid is required." 10. "What do they do if the people are dead? Do they leave them out in the snow?" asked Anna, as she drew closer to the side of her uncle. 11. "No. When it appears too late to save life, they lift the body from its snowy bed, and bear it carefully back to the convent. There they try every remedy; then, if unavailing, it is carried to the chapel, and a funeral service is held over the stranger, who died while willing help was so near; and finally, he is laid in the morgue, a building set apart for the purpose. And then, if any of his friends should think to come and look for the missing father or brother, they will find him, rigid and cold, waiting for the day when all shall meet again." 12. "Why do they not bury them if they are dead ?" inquired Johnny, bent upon knowing the why of everything. 13. "They do not need to do that, because frost and snow have a preserving power. The intense and unchanging cold embalms the body, as it were, and it neither changes nor decays. If you look through the grating of this morgue, you will see many a solemn figure, stiff and still. 14. "There is one group which always excites a great deal of interest. It is that of a mother with her little baby pressed closely to her bosom. They were found years ago, wrapped and hidden in the same white shroud, and the brothers brought them to their convent, and tried with tender hands to restore them tɔ life. When they found it was too late to do this, they laid the child back in its mother's arms; and there they are to this day, among the grim company of the dead. CLARA L. MATÉAUX. NOTE. It will be well to have the class point out the localities of St. Bernard and Savoy on their maps. I LESSON XXXIX. FLOWERS. WILL not have the mad Clytie The tulip is a courtly quean But I will woo the dainty rose 2. The pea is but a fickle maid, In too much haste to wed, And clasps her rings on every hand; The wolfsbane I should dread; |