SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
young people, and they repay the liking with interest.
A visitor to the college was once speaking of the attractive horseback rides through the country around Beirut. "But," he added, as he looked up at the white-haired president, "I suppose you don't ride any more." "No," answered Dr. Bliss with a resigned sigh, "I haven't been on a horse for—three days!"
He is getting on in years now, and a recent stoop has taken a fraction of an inch from his six feet of spare, hard bone and muscle. A decade ago he resigned the presidency of the college, whereupon, to his great delight, his son was elected to fill the vacancy. "See what my boy is doing!" he exclaims, as he shows visitors the new buildings which are going up almost at the rate of one a year. So now the Old Doctor just walks about the campus which he loves, and from beneath his shock of thick white hair beams an irresistibly infectious enjoyment of this superlatively beautiful world, where anybody who has the mind can work so hard and get so much fun out of it.
Did I say that Dr. Bliss is old? Not he! He would indignantly deny the imputation. It is true that he celebrated his ninetieth birthday last August, but what of that? He recently expressed an intention to live to be a hundred. When he was a stalwart youth of four score I heard him remark, "Let the
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