he should be there.

What he ate and what he said he does not recall. General Grant, not a
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