oment. According
to Issy, Albert was "a fine, fust-class young feller. Him and me was
like brothers, as you might say. When he got into trouble, or was
undecided or anything, he'd come to me for advice and I always gave it
to him. Land, yes! I always give to Albert. No matter how busy I was I
always stopped work to help HIM out." The reporter added that Mr. Price
stopped work even while speaking of it.

The special attracted the notice of other newspaper editors. This
skirmish in which Albert had taken so gallant part was among the first
in which our soldiers had participated. So the story was copied and
recopied. The tale of the death of the young poet, the "happy warrior,"
as some writer called him, was spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific
and from Canada to the Gulf. And just at this psychological moment the
New York publisher brought out the long deferred volume. The Lances of
Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of Albert M. C. Speranza, such was its
title.

Meanwhile, or, rather, within the week when the Lances of Dawn flashed
upon the public, Captain Zelotes received a letter from the captain of
Albert's regiment in France. It was not a long letter, for the captain
was a busy man, but it was the kindly, sympathetic letter of one who
was, literally, that well-advertised combination, an officer and a
gentleman. It told of Albert's promotion to the rank of sergeant, "a
promotion which, had the boy been spared, would, I am sure, have been
the forerunner of others." It told of that last fight, the struggle for
the village, of Sergeant Speranza's coolness and daring and of his rush
back into the throat of death to save a wounded comrade.

The men tell me they tried to stop him (wrote the captain). He was
himself slightly wounded, he had just brought Lieutenant Stacey back
to safety and the enemy at that moment was again advancing through the
village. But he insisted upon going. The man he was trying to rescue was
a private in his company and the pair were great friends. So he started
back alone, although several followed him a moment later. They saw him
enter the ruined cottage where his friend lay. Then a party of the
enemy appeared at the corner and flung grenades. The entire side of the
cottage which he had just entered was blown in and the Germans passed on
over it, causing our men to fall back temporarily. We retook the place
within half an hour. Private Kelly's body--it was Private Kelly whom
Sergeant Speranza