Monday, May. 31, 1937

Mid Snow & Ice

For 1,000 years, the best of man's best friends have been the dogs of St. Bernard, traditionally trained by the monks of that hospice to succor and save benighted travelers in the 8,111-ft. pass under Mt. Blanc's cold shoulder near the Franco-Swiss frontier. Weighing up to 200 Ib. in maturity, the St. Bernard dogs are noted for great strength, docility, intelligence, and an expression of almost idiotic benignity. From puppyhood, the dogs are taught to drag unconscious travelers as far as they can, then run & fetch the monks from the hospice. In times past the clogs actually carried around their necks the pictorially famed little kegs of brandy. Most illustrious of these lifesavers was Barry, who died while trying for his 41st rescue, was memorialized in bronze at the monastery.

One fine morning last week, the St. Bernard record for canine Christianity was unaccountably shattered. From Grenoble. Dr. Jean Bremond had set out on a skiing trip across the Swiss border with his three young daughters. Up & up they slid along the Great St. Bernard pass. Cru-u-unch went their skis in the granular Alpine snow as they came in sight of the home of the pious monks of St. Bernard. A deep-voiced barking broke out as the famed dogs of the monastery came leaping to greet the travelers. Shrieking with laughter and excitement, ten-year-old Marie-Anne hurried ahead.

What Dr. Bremond saw then from 300 yards away had the deliberate horror of a slow-motion nightmare. The dogs closed in on the little girl. No longer could the doctor see Marie-Anne, but he could hear her shrieking. One of the dogs seemed to be worrying at a large rag doll. With their black gowns hiked up, the monks came stumbling and shouting from their quarters. When the dogs were finally hauled & called off, Marie-Anne lay limp and bleeding in the snow.

Inside the hospice, Marie-Anne shortly died with deep gashes in her face and body. Great was the grief of the brotherhood of St. Bernard, but the monks maintained they could not identify the killer. They locked up the entire pack "as punishment," gave as the only possible explanation of the tragedy their belief that the guilty dog must have "suddenly gone mad." Sorrowed the Father Superior: "We are in deep mourning here, not only for this unfortunate girl, but for the honor of our dogs that has been unblemished for centuries."

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