Sylvanus Stall

Suggestion:—If a real live dog is too diverting, an earthen or bisque dog, or the accompanying picture of the dogs of St. Bernard, may be sufficient.

In Switzerland there are some very high mountains, and some years ago, when there were no tunnels yet dug under the mountains, as there are to-day, travelers during the winter, when going from Germany to Italy, or returning from Italy to Germany, had to cross over the tops of these mountains. The snow was always deep and the journey was always dangerous, particularly in the winter.

There are several places where the mountains can be crossed, and these places are called "passes," such as the Simplon, St. Bernard and St. Gothard passes. Some years ago, in company with a friend, I crossed the St. Gothard pass on the 20th of June. That year the season was very late, and after we got well up the mountain, we found the snow from five to ten feet deep on the level, and when we arrived on the top of the mountain, the snow was even with the roof of a two-story building which stood there, and the people living in it had tunneled under the snow, around the outside of the building. If this was the way it was on the 20th of June, you can easily imagine what an awfully cold and stormy place it must be to live during the entire winter. It took our horses a long time to take us up the mountain, but when we went down on the Italian side they went quite rapidly, and in one hour and forty minutes from the time we left the Hotel de la Prosa, where the snow was so very deep, we were down in the village of Airolo, where little girls were selling ripe cherries. It seemed as though we had jumped right out of the heart of winter, into the pleasant and fruitful days of summer.

On the top of each of these mountain passes, there is built what is called a hospice, which means hospitality, the same word from which we get our word hospital. These buildings are erected for the entertainment of poor travelers, who are compelled to cross the mountains in the winter. There are a number of monks, who live in each of these places of entertainment. On each of these mountain passes the monks have some large dogs, which are known as the dogs of St. Bernard. In the winter when it is snowing, and travelers are likely to be exhausted by their efforts to ascend the mountain, and are liable to be lost in the snow-storms which prevail almost every day, these dogs are sent out by the monks with a supply of food and wine suspended from their necks, and they go all over the mountain, barking and making a great noise. When they discover a poor traveler who is perishing in the snow, they allow him to take the food and the wine in order that he may be stimulated and revived, and then these faithful and intelligent dogs lead the way to the place of safety and security.

Oftentimes they find men who have become nearly frozen, who have fallen down in the snow in an unconscious state and are ready to die. If left for a time these men would soon freeze to death beneath the snow that falls very rapidly upon them. These dogs are very intelligent, and immediately they will begin to scrape the snow off the traveler, lick his hands, and if he does not give any indications of life they will then lie down upon his body, that the warmth from their own body may quicken him again into consciousness, that he may drink the wine and eat the food and be stimulated enough to do something toward getting himself on to the place of safety. If the man is not too heavy, the dog might even be able to carry him.

At the hospice on the St. Bernard pass they once had a faithful dog which had been successful in thus rescuing sixty-eight persons from freezing to death upon the mountains. The dog was very sagacious, and seemed to know exactly what to do when he found a poor traveler dying in the snow. One day he found a man who had evidently been lying for some time in the snow, which had already quite buried him. The man was entirely unconscious, and when the dog found him he began immediately to scrape away the snow and then lay down upon this dying man, that the warmth of his own body might quicken him again into consciousness. When the man began to revive, and discovered that there was something warm lying upon him, he thought it was a wolf or some wild animal which possibly designed to take his life. He reached into his belt and drew a dagger, which he thrust into the body of the faithful dog that had come to rescue him from freezing to death. The poor dog was fatally wounded. He started back home, but in a short time after reaching it bled to death. The monks had this dog's skin stuffed and placed in the hospice, and now he seems constantly to teach an object lesson to all travelers who cross the Alps and stop at the hospice.

The story of this faithful dog and his sad death reminds us of that loving Saviour, who came from heaven to this world, to seek and to save those who were lost. And although He came to redeem and rescue us from death, yet wicked men in this world crucified Him by nailing Him to a cross upon Calvary, and this is what every person is doing to-day who rejects the Lord Jesus Christ. He comes to you and to me, desiring to save us from our sins and from everlasting death; to save not only our bodies, but our souls for all eternity. If we reject Him we are told in the Bible that "we crucify Him afresh, and put Him to an open shame." I am sure no thoughtful boy or girl would be guilty of wilfully stabbing any kind dog that would come to their rescue if they were perishing in the snow, and I trust that none of you will ever reject Jesus and thrust Him away from you, and thus crucify Him for yourself and put Him to an open shame before the world.

This faithful dog should also teach you and me another lesson. If a dog can make himself so useful as to save the lives of sixty-eight people, you and I should ask ourselves the question whether we are doing as much for the blessing and the salvation of men as this faithful dog did on the mountains of Switzerland? But you can do a great deal more than this dog. He could only save the lives of people, but God can use you to save their souls as well, by the influence of a noble Christian life, by what you say and do, by your contributions to missions, and in various other ways you may help to save the souls of many who must otherwise perish.

But this faithful dog teaches us a lesson of constant, daily duty. It was no easy thing for this dog to go out in the fierce cold through the deep snow and run about all day to hunt for lost travelers, but it was by keeping constantly at it and working faithfully day after day that he accomplished this grand result. He did not save sixty-eight people all at one time, but saved one at a time, and sometimes worked for days and weeks without finding a single traveler whom he could help. In the same way, if you desire to be useful in this world, you must use every little opportunity which comes to you daily. You must be willing to work hard and keep at it, and even though you cannot succeed in doing any great thing at any one time, remember that you must keep doing little things all the while. I trust that God may inspire each of you to desire to accomplish grand results in your lives by the constant doing of both little and great things for God and man.