THE STORY OF BARRY
The Great St. Bernard is a famous mountain pass which crosses over the Alps from Switzerland into Italy.
Away up on the highest point of the pass there stands a lonely dwelling place. It is the hospice of St. Bernard.
A hospice, you must know, is a refuge for travelers on some difficult road.
The hospice of St. Bernard is kept by a company of monks, who live the year round shut in by lofty mountains covered with snow.
In the winter season the good monks lead a very busy life, for then it is that they go forth to seek andrescue travelers who have lost their way in the terrible mountain snow storms.
Every year many lives are saved through their efforts.
I said that many lives are saved through the efforts of the good monks, but they would tell you that but few lives would be saved were it not for the help of their great noble dogs.
These dogs are specially trained to accompany the monks, or are sent out alone to search for people in danger.
You have heard of St. Bernard dogs, haven’t you?
Barry was one of these dogs—a big, intelligent St. Bernard. He was so big and so intelligent that he was often sent out alone on some errand of mercy. Up to the time of this story Barry had saved forty lives.
One day, in a blinding snow storm, two travelers, who had lost their way, were struggling to reach the hospice.
It was frightfully cold, and their strength was almost spent. At length, one of the men took out his brandy flask.
The other, knowing the great risk his companion ran, begged him not to drink, and urged him to put forth one more effort.
But the man would not listen. He continued to drink heavily and soon fell exhausted in the snow.
His friend struggled on, and at last reached the hospice, where he told the story of his lost fellow traveler.
At once the monks called Barry and sent him forth to find the man.
Through the heavy storm the great dog made his way to where the traveler lay unconscious in the snow.
Barry pulled and pushed and tugged, and at last aroused him from his drunken stupor.
The man, dazed by cold and drink, thought that a wild beast had fallen upon him.
With his little remaining strength, he drew his knife from his pocket and plunged it into Barry’s neck.
But the faithful dog, undaunted, kept at his task. Too late, the traveler realized that he had been found by one of the St. Bernard dogs which had been sent to rescue him.
He struggled to his feet. Half leaning on the dog, whose blood stained every step of the way, he reached the door of the hospice.
On its threshold Barry fell exhausted. He had given his life in fidelity to the trust reposed in him.
Barry’s beautiful body was buried in a large cemetery in Paris; and over it was placed a handsome monument. On the monument, in French, are these words:
“He saved the lives of forty persons; he was killed by the forty-first.”
QUESTIONS
Did you ever stop to think that in the great animal kingdom, with its thousands of creatures, just one, the dog, has left its kind and attached itself to man?
Did you ever stop to think that in the great animal kingdom, with its thousands of creatures, just one, the dog, has left its kind and attached itself to man?
More than that, have you realized that the dog has accepted man as a master, a being to serve, to love, to caress, to suffer for, and, if need be, to perish for?So whether this dog of yours is big or little, fat or lean; whether he looks like a majestic lion, or has a pug nose and curly tail—be kind to him—be just to him, and to every other dog.Doesn’t a dog when he buries his bone against a rainy day show more intelligence than some people?Did you ever think that a dog’s life is what his master makes it?Do you realize that many other dogs would be just as noble and brave as Barry, if they were trained, or had a chance to show their bravery?
More than that, have you realized that the dog has accepted man as a master, a being to serve, to love, to caress, to suffer for, and, if need be, to perish for?
So whether this dog of yours is big or little, fat or lean; whether he looks like a majestic lion, or has a pug nose and curly tail—be kind to him—be just to him, and to every other dog.
Doesn’t a dog when he buries his bone against a rainy day show more intelligence than some people?
Did you ever think that a dog’s life is what his master makes it?
Do you realize that many other dogs would be just as noble and brave as Barry, if they were trained, or had a chance to show their bravery?