At one time, when on his way back to his home, a terrible storm came on. With great difficulty he made his way to the Convent. The monks did all they could to persuade him to remain till the storm had passed away. [Illustration] But the poor man knew how anxious his family would be. He was sure that they would be out on the mountain in search of him;—and so they really were. He felt that he must proceed, and the monks spoke to him in vain. All they could do was to furnish him with two guides, attended by two dogs. One of these dogs was the noble animal that wore the medal. But the poor courier and his family never met. On his way down the mountain with the guides and the dogs, a great mass of frozen snow fell upon them, and courier, guides, and dogs, were all buried beneath it. THE LOST CHILD. An interesting and affecting story is told of two of these brave dogs having once saved the life of a little boy who had lost his way on the mountain.—(See PICTURES I. II. III.) I. It was a clear, cold, winter night, The heavens all brightly starred, Where on Mount Bernard’s snowy height The good monks kept their guard. And round their hearth, that night, they told To one who shelter craved, How the brave dog, he thought so old, Full forty lives had saved; When, suddenly, with kindling eye, Up sprang the old dog there, As from afar a child’s shrill cry Rung through the frosty air. In haste the monks unbarred the door, Rugs round the mastiffs threw; And as they bounded forth once more, Called, “Blessings be with you!” II. They hurried headlong down the hill, Past many a snow-wreath wild, Until the older guide stood still Beside a sleeping child. He licked the little icy hand With his rough, kindly tongue; With his warm breath he gently fanned The tresses fair and long. The child looked up, with eyes of blue, As if the whole he guessed; His arms around the dog he threw, And sunk again to rest. Once more he woke, and wrapped him fast In the warm covering sent; The dogs then with their charge, at last, Up the steep mountain went. III. The fire glowed bright with heaped-up logs, Each monk brought forth a light; “Good dogs!” they cried, “good dogs, good dogs! Whom bring you here to-night?” In, with a joyous bound, they come— The boy awoke and smiled: “Ah me!” the stranger cried, “some home Mourneth for thee, fair child!” With morning light, the monks and boy Sought where the village lay— I dare not try to paint the joy Their coming gave that day. “If sweet,” the brethren said, “to see Such gladness shed around, What wondrous joy in Heaven must be, When a lost child is found!” [Illustration] AUNT LOUISA’S BIG PICTURE BOOKS.