The physical director of the college now has under his charge no fewer than eighteen football teams, besides twelve basketball teams, six hockey teams, four baseball teams and a cross-country running club; thirty men play at cricket regularly, forty-seven hold certificates or medals of the (British) Royal Life Saving Society, and there are a hundred and thirty-five entries for to-day’s field and track events.[10] It makes one homesick to hear the cheers. With the exception of an occasional “meet” with some mission school, like those at Jerusalem and Sidon, there is no opportunity to compete with rival institutions. Indeed, there is no other college in the Near East which would have any chance of winning in competition with the “S. P. C.” So the enthusiasm finds a vent in cheering for the various schools of the university and for the class champions. Three of the departments—the preparatory, academic and medical—are each as large as many an American college. The competition among these runs very high, and to-day a banner is to be given to the one whose members shall score most points. Now the various department “yells” have stopped for a moment, and an upper classman starts the college cheer, just as inane to read and just as soul-stirring to hear as are those of Harvard or Yale or Princeton. There is a good deal of singing, too. The college song, like that of Cornell, is set to the tune of “Annie Lisle,” but the words are full of local allusions— “Far, far above the waters Of the deep blue sea, Lies the campus of the college Where we love to be. “Far away, behold Keneiseh! Far beyond, Sunnin! Rising hoary to the heavens, Clad in glorious sheen.” Suddenly an usher comes running from the gate-house with the news that the governor’s carriage is in sight. It can hardly be true, however; for it still lacks a few minutes of two o’clock, and it would be contrary to Syrian custom for an official of such exalted rank to arrive at the same time with ordinary people. Probably he will come at about three o’clock, and stay a half hour or so, just to assure the college of his good-will. Indeed, this will be the first time that a governor has even put in an appearance at the annual games. But, after all, the usher is right. The pasha is coming—three minutes ahead of time! There is hardly a consul on the dignitaries’ platform; even the American representative has not arrived yet, and there would be no one properly to welcome the governor, if the president of the college did not throw dignity to the winds and sprint across the campus to meet him.