and the American volunteer soldier in his "green and salad days" is
among the worst known. That is how it happened that one of Buell's
men, Private Bennett Story Greene, committed the indiscretion of
striking his officer. Later in the war he would not have done that;
like Sir Andrew Aguecheek, he would have "seen him damned" first.
But time for reformation of his military manners was denied him: he
was promptly arrested on complaint of the officer, tried by court-
martial and sentenced to be shot.

"You might have thrashed me and let it go at that," said the
condemned man to the complaining witness; "that is what you used to
do at school, when you were plain Will Dudley and I was as good as
you. Nobody saw me strike you; discipline would not have suffered
much."

"Ben Greene, I guess you are right about that," said the lieutenant.
"Will you forgive me? That is what I came to see you about."

There was no reply, and an officer putting his head in at the door
of the guard-tent where the conversation had occurred, explained
that the time allowed for the interview had expired. The next
morning, when in the presence of the whole brigade Private Greene
was shot to death by a squad of his comrades, Lieutenant Dudley
turned his back upon the sorry performance and muttered a prayer for
mercy, in which himself was included.

A few weeks afterward, as Buell's leading division was being ferried
over the Tennessee River to assist in succoring Grant's beaten army,
night was coming on, black and stormy. Through the wreck of battle
the division moved, inch by inch, in the direction of the enemy, who