One summer morning, shortly before the close of the civil war, the not unusual sight in Washington of an old veteran hobbling along could have been seen on a shady path that led from the executive mansion to the war office. The old man was in pain, and the pale, sunken cheeks and vague, far-away stare in his eyes betokened a short-lived existence. He halted a moment and then slowly approached a tall gentleman who was walking along. “Good morning, sir. I am an old soldier and would like to ask your advice.”

The gentleman turned, and smiling kindly, invited the poor old veteran to a seat under a shady tree. There he listened to the man’s story of how he had fought for the Union and was severely wounded, incapacitating him for other work in life, and begged directions how to apply for back pay due him and a pension, offering his papers for examination.

The gentleman looked over the papers and then took out a card and wrote directions on it, also a few words to the pension bureau, desiring that speedy attention be given to the applicant, and handed it to him.

The old soldier looked at it, and with tears in his eyes, thanked the tall gentleman, who, with a sad look, bade him good luck and hurried up the walk. Slowly the old soldier read the card again, and then turned it over to read the name of the owner. More tears welled in his eyes when he knew whom he had addressed himself to, and his lips muttered: “I am glad I fought for him and the country, for he never forgets. God bless Abraham Lincoln!”