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[96] followed the confident prediction that the war would be ‘short, sharp, and decisive.’ In unbounded faith and fervor, old and young, they yelled their acclamations. Was there ever a commander by whom ‘the boys’ stood more loyally or lovingly?

A few days later still, on the Virginia slopes south of the Chain Bridge, where was stationed a whole brigade of ‘the boys’—Green Mountain boys principally, though stalwart lads from Maine, Wisconsin, New York, and Pennsylvania, were there also, preparations were in progress for a tragic scene. There had been some few instances of sentries falling asleep. Healthy farm-boys, bred to days of labor in the sunshine, and correspondingly long hours of sleep at night, could not always overcome the drowsiness that stole upon them when left alone on picket. An army might be imperiled—a lesson must be taught. A patrol had come upon a young Vermonter asleep on post. A court martial had tried and sentenced, and to that sentence General Smith had set the seal of his approval. For the soldier-crime of sleeping on guard, Private Scott was to be shot to death in sight of the Vermont brigade.

A grave would be dug; a coffin set beside it; the pale-faced lad would be led forth; the chaplain, with bowed head and quivering lips, would speak his final word of consolation; the firing-party—a dozen of his own brigade—would be marched to the spot, subordinate, sworn to obey, yet dumbly cursing their lot; the provost-marshal would give the last order, while all around, in long, rigid, yet trembling lines, a square of soldiery would witness a comrade's death. But on the eve of the appointed day, the great-hearted Lincoln, appealed to by several of the lad's company, went himself to the Chain Bridge, had a long conversation with the young private and sent him back to his regiment, a free man. The President of the United States could not suffer it that one of his boys should be shot to death for being overcome by sleep. He gave his young soldier life only that the lad might die gloriously a few months later, heading the dash of his comrades upon the Southern line at

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