A farmer was once found kneeling at a soldier’s grave near Nashville. Someone came to him and said, “Why do you pay so much attention to this grave? Was your son buried here?” “No,” he said. “During the war my family were all sick; I knew not how to leave them. I was drafted. One of my neighbors came over and said, ‘I will go for you; I have no family.’ He went off. He was wounded at Chickamauga. He was carried to the hospital, and there died. And, sir, I have come a great many miles, that I might write over his grave these words, ‘He died for me.’”
