The very gallant death of Mr. V. S. T. Harmsworth,
Lord Rother- mere's son, is an instance of the tragedy and glory in which much of our youth is being eclipsed. This boy of twenty-one recently refused a Staff appointment, saying: "The greatest honour which an officer can receive is to lead his men over the parapet." In a charge across No-Man's-Land he was wounded in the throat. This evi- dently delayed him, but it did not stop him. We next hear of him rallying a party of another battalion. With them he advanced to the German second line, where he was again wounded, this time in the right shoulder. He was in bad need of a breather. He sat down and lit a cigarette, but in a moment he began collecting the men near him, and he led them on to the third line. Here he was killed by a shell. Thus he organized and led two distinct attacks after he was first wounded and might have honourably considered himself out of action. Neither the second nor the third attack was any of his business. But they were the business of an invincible heart ; and by such amazing tenacity, which is being displayed on all sides, we shall win and the doubters will be shamed. There is all that may quiet a father's and a mother's heart in a death so noble.
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