lived a "sand-Spaniard" who could not take advantage of him. So Mr. P.
bought the bag, and because it was made of very durable canvas, and
would last a great while, he paid a dollar for it.

He did not ask what it was for. He knew. It was to put Cape May Diamonds
in! He put the bag in his pocket and walked along the beach for three
miles. You can't walk more than three miles here, and if you hire a
carriage you will find that you can't ride less than that distance.
Which makes it bad, sometimes. However, when Mr. P. had finished his
three miles, he didn't want to go any further. He stopped, and gazing
carelessly around to see that no one noticed him, pulled out his canvas
bag and did shuffle a little in the sand with his feet. He might
find some diamonds, you know, just as likely as any of the hundreds of
other people, who, in other sequestered parts of the beach, were pulling
out other canvas bags, and shuffling in the sand with other feet. At
length Mr. P. shuffled himself into a very sequestered nook indeed, and
there he saw a man smoking. His melancholy little boy was sitting by his
side. Perceiving that it was only General GRANT, Mr. P. advanced with
his usual grace and suavity of manner.

"Why, Mr. President!" said he, "I thought you would be found at Long
Branch this season."

"Long--thunder!" ejaculated the General, his face as black as the ace of
spades, (which, by the way, is blue.) "I might go to Nova Zembla for a
quiet smoke, and some sneaking politician would crawl out from the ice
with a petition. I went fishing in Pennsylvania, and I found twenty of
those fellows to every trout. However, I don't mind you. Take a seat and
have a cigar."