It was at first very small. A half-century ago there were but a few pupils gathered in a hired room. To-day the faculty and administrative officers alone number nearly four score, and a thousand men and boys are studying _in the English language_. The institution is emphatically Christian, but it is as absolutely non-sectarian as Harvard or Columbia. Every great religion and sect of the Near East, including Mohammedanism and Judaism, is represented in the student body; and it is hardly an exaggeration to say that every student and graduate honors Daniel Bliss next only to God. As he walks through the streets of the city, men stop to kiss his hands which embarrasses him exceedingly. Perhaps they love him so much because they are so sure that he loves them. Orientals are very quick to detect a stranger’s underlying motives, and many a smooth-speaking philanthropist has been weighed by them and found wanting. But, during nearly sixty years’ residence in Beirut, Dr. Bliss has lived such a life that his devotion to Syria and his affectionate interest in Syrians has become a tradition handed down from father to son. He has known dark days and fought hard battles, yet he has never lacked a buoyant optimism, born partly of trust in God and partly of a strong body and a healthful mind. He has no patience with dismal, despondent prophets of evil. I never knew a man with a larger capacity for enjoyment. Good music always moves him powerfully. He keeps in touch with the latest European and American periodicals. He likes new books, new songs, new stories and, especially, new jokes. Active, alert, quick at repartee, he is passionately fond of the society of 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.