lgars would not have come into the war if they had known that Greece
would stand by Serbia. And you will also understand why I feel so
confident that our military help to the Allies will be a very real one,
perhaps enough of a one even to save Greece from herself."

This was, I believe, the latest occasion on which M. Venizelos visited
his troops at the front. Before another fortnight had gone by the forces
of the "Protecting Powers" were moving into Old Greece, and in a month
Constantine had abdicated and opened the way for the return of his
former Prime Minister to Athens.

[Sidenote: The maker and Savior of Modern Greece.]

From the time of the Balkan wars of 1912-13 to the outbreak of the
present one Venizelos was often referred to as "The Maker of Modern
Greece." After this war he may well be known as "The Savior of Modern
Greece"; and of the two achievements there can be no doubt that history
must record that the one of "saving" was incomparably greater than the
one of "making."

[Sidenote: What the influence of Venizelos may do.]

It is still too early to make it worth while to endeavor to forecast
what is on the knees of the capricious war-gods of the Balkans, and
there is no use in trying to deny that the Bulgar--just as long as
Germany has the power and will to back him up--will take a deal of
beating. But that Venizelos will be able to make the army of reunited
Greece a potently contributive factor in bringing about that
devoutly-to-be-wished consummation may now be taken as assured.

Copyright, World's Work, January, 1918.

* * * * *

We have seen in a previous narrative the difficulties which the Italians
encountered in conducting their campaign against Austria. As a result of
German falsehood and propaganda, the Italian line was weakened and
penetrated by a great German army, and the Italian lines were swept
back. They finally held, however, and the strength of their resistance
is indicated in the following pages.

THE ITALIANS AT BAY

G. WARD PRICE

[Sidenote: Udine as it seemed before the war.]

Udine was a typically quaint and sleepy little Italian town galvanized
into unnatural life and prosperity. Every one who has spent a week in
Italy can put the picture of the place before his imagination in a
moment: streets of dark, restful, Gothic cloisters; a broad piazza
flanked by a graceful loggia; remains of medieval fortification of which
the towering