During the war, Italy called to the colors from a male population of only 17,000,000 nearly 5,500,000 men and suffered a loss of almost 1,000,000 of them. It is estimated that the nation's man power suffered a permanent loss of over half a million. But serious as is this loss, Italy inflicted an even greater punishment upon the foe. In Austrian prisoners alone she captured over a million. The Austrian loss in killed and wounded was doubtless far greater than Italy's. Over 2500 miles of roads were constructed on the mountains of Italy and Albania, and 1000 miles of aerial cable railroads were built to carry food, ammunition, and guns over deep ravines. Italy's fighters and industrial workers accomplished their work with an inadequate supply of materials and food that meant real and continuous suffering such as probably was felt by no other of the warring peoples. ******************* We will never bring disgrace to this, our city, by any act of dishonesty or cowardice, nor ever desert our suffering comrades in the ranks. We will fight for the ideals and sacred things of the city, both alone and with many; we will revere and obey the city's laws and do our best to incite a like respect and reverence in those above us who are prone to annul or to set them at naught; we will strive unceasingly to quicken the public's sense of civic duty. Thus in all these ways we will transmit this city not only not less but greater, better and more beautiful than it was transmitted to us. _The Oath of the Athenian Youth._ SONG OF THE AVIATOR (_This poem was written for an entertainment given by the Y.M.C.A. at an aviation barracks in a large camp in France. Mrs. Wilcox addressed five hundred aviators, and these verses were recited with great effect by Mrs. May Randall. After the entertainment there was a rush to obtain autographed copies of the poem._) You may thrill with the speed of your thoroughbred steed, You may laugh with delight as you ride the ocean, You may rush afar in your touring car, Leaping, sweeping by things that are creeping-- But you never will know the joy of motion Till you rise up over the earth some day And soar like an eagle, away--away. High and higher, above each spire, Till lost to sight is the tallest steeple, With the winds you chase in a valiant race, Looping, swooping, where mountains are grouping, Hailing them comrades, in place of people. Oh, vast is the rapture the bird man knows As into the ether he mounts and goes. He is over the sphere of human fear; He has come into touch with things supernal. At each man's gate death stands await; And dying flying were better than lying In sick beds crying for life eternal. Better to fly halfway to God Than to burrow too long like a worm in the sod. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. NATIONS BORN AND REBORN