voluble talker himself, gently drew the boy out, and Mrs. Grant
seconded him, until toward the close of the dinner he heard himself
talking. He remembers that he heard his voice, but what that voice
said is all dim to him. One act stamped itself on his mind. The
dinner ended with a wonderful dish of nuts and raisins, and just before
the party rose from the table Mrs. Grant asked the waiter to bring her
a paper bag. Into this she emptied the entire dish, and at the close
of the evening she gave it to Edward "to eat on the way home." It was
a wonderful evening, afterward up-stairs, General Grant smoking the
inevitable cigar, and telling stories as he read the letters of
different celebrities. Over those of Confederate generals he grew
reminiscent; and when he came to a letter from General Sherman, Edward
remembers that he chuckled audibly, reread it, and then turning to Mrs.
Grant, said:

"Julia, listen to this from Sherman. Not bad." The letter he read was
this:


DEAR MR. BOK:--

I prefer not to make scraps of sentimental writing. When I write
anything I want it to be real and connected in form, as, for instance,
in your quotation from Lord Lytton's play of "Richelieu," "The pen is
mightier than the sword." Lord Lytton would never have put his
signature to so naked a sentiment. Surely I will not.

In the text there was a prefix or qualification:

Beneath the rule of men entirely great