Down went the orderly, and the confusion of poor Miles was overwhelming when he got the squelcher from the General commanding.
"Why, it was all praise," said he.
"No matter for that. If it had been the other way it would have been treated just the same."
So Miles moved a compromise—we hardly know what—and urged the official to express his regrets and beg the removal of the injunction, which was promised. The appeal was successful, and soon the officer came back to inform him that permission was granted him to run his paper, on condition that he should never mention the General's name again. This was agreed to, and the paper appeared. After a day or two an aide came down one morning with an order from General Sherman, for publication. Miles glanced it over and handed it back.
"It can't go in, sir," he said.
"Why not?" asked the astonished messenger, who was a stranger.
"Because it has Sherman's name to it," was the reply.
"That's the reason why it must go in," urged the aide.
"And that's the reason why it shan't. He stopped my paper for praising him, and I promised him that his name should never appear in my columns again, and hang me if it shall."
Miles stood resolute, and the officer returned for orders, expecting the ordering out of a file of men and an arrest, but was astonished to see the General burst into the heartiest laugh and hear him confess that the printer had the best of it. The messenger was sent back with a conciliatory note, and there was no more trouble.