is nearly 4000 feet
above the level of the Mediterranean Sea. The village is compact as a
little city, the streets narrow, rocky and crooked, the houses
flat-roofed, and the floors of mud. One of the Protestants, the father
of Miriam Tabet, has built a fine large house with glass windows and
paved floors, which is one of the best houses in that part of Lebanon.
The village is surrounded by vineyards, and the grapes are regarded as
the finest in Mt. Lebanon. The people say that they never have to dig
for the foundation of a house, but only to sweep off the dust with a
broom. There is not a shade tree in the village. One day Dr. De Forest
asked, "Why don't you plant a tree?" "We shall not live till it has
grown," was the reply. "But your children will," said the Doctor. "Let
them plant it then," was the satisfactory answer.

My first visit to B'hamdun was made in February, 1856, a few days after
my first arrival in Syria. On Sabbath morning I attended the Sabbath
School with Mr. Benton, at that time a missionary of the A.B.C.F.M. One
little girl named Katrina Subra, then nine years of age, repeated the
Arabic Hymn "Kumu wa Rettelu," "Awake and sing the song of Moses and the
Lamb." She was a bright-eyed child of fair complexion and of unusual
intelligence. At that time there was no children's hymn book in Arabic,
and I asked Mr. B. to promise the children that when I had learned the
Arabic, I would translate a collection of children's hymns into Arabic,
which promise was fulfilled first in the printing of the "Douzan el
Kethar," "The tuning of the Harp," in 1861. Katrina was the daughter of
Elias Subra, one of the wealthiest men in the village, who had just then
become a Protestant. She had been interested in the truth for some time,
and though at the time only eight years old, was accustomed during the
preceding summer to tell the Arab children that she was a Protestant,
though they answered her with insults and cursing. At first she could
not bear to be abused, and answered them in language more forcible than
proper, but by the time of my visit she had become softened and subdued
in her manner, and was never heard to speak an unkind word to any one.
She undertook, even at that age, to teach the Greek servant girl in the
family how to read. One day the old Greek Priest met her in the street
and asked her why she did not go to confession as the other Greek
children do. She replied that she could go to Christ and confess. T