varied colors, it is cut and parceled after the pattern of the mountains that surround it, and it holds the ancient ruins of Baalbek and the remains of the glories of some of the peoples of this land who lived and labored and then made way for those who came after them, the builders of successive cultures. The waters of the Mediterranean, as they tickle the shores of Lebanon, turn to a sharp turquoise, streaked with blues and greens and violets. The winter snows, in the clarity of this luminous Lebanese air, crown the heights of Sannin and Kneisseh and Hermon and the other mountains with a garment of blazing golden white. And the sweet waters gushing at Sir and Afqa, bursting from the bowels of the mountains, water the green valleys. Whichever way you turn in this immeasurably ancient land, you find in the landscape a freshness, a vitality, and a liveliness that stir the soul and the eye.

We have spent most of our week-ends visiting and painting the natural scenery in many places. And our adventures have been occasions of gladness and plea-sure, above all for the Arab hospitality we met with, of which I can say that it has not been exaggerated, though a great deal has been written about it. In our

trips through every part of the country, and in our mingling with the people of the villages and farms, I have met with so warm a welcome as makes me believe that this generous quality exists in all the children of this land. The women and girls lean down from their balconies to say to you as you pass, 'Please come in — welcome, and a hundred welcomes.' The men going by on foot or riding on the backs of their beasts greet you with 'Good morning' or 'Good evening.' And those of them who have been in America speak to you in English, saying: 'Won't you come in and take a cup of coffee? If you need anything, I will bring it to you. Tell me if I can run an errand for you or do you a service.'

As for the little girls, they offer you garden flowers and fruit. Once, when I was painting the red moun-tains behind Zahle, my painting stand set up under a tree in an empty field far from the village, I saw people appearing around me in a wondrous way, from where I know not. Then a village woman came with a basket full of grapes from the vine and a silvered copper vessel she had filled from the spring water, to wash the grapes with. This gracious welcome, which you meet wherever you go in every part of the country, makes every excursion full of gladness and delight.