“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
  The pen is mightier than the sword.

Now, this world does not often present the condition of facts herein described.  Men entirely great are very rare indeed, and even Washington, who approached greatness as near as any mortal, found good use for the sword and the pen, each in its proper sphere.

You and I have seen the day when a great and good man ruled this country (Lincoln) who wielded a powerful and prolific pen, and yet had to call to his assistance a million of flaming swords.

No, I cannot subscribe to your sentiment, “The pen is mightier than the sword,” which you ask me to write, because it is not true.

Rather, in the providence of God, there is a time for all things; a time when the sword may cut the Gordian knot, and set free the principles of right and justice, bound up in the meshes of hatred, revenge, and tyranny, that the pens of mighty men like Clay, Webster, Crittenden, and Lincoln were unable to disentangle.  Wishing you all success, I am, with respect, your friend, W. T. SHERMAN.

Mrs. Grant had asked Edward to send her a photograph of himself, and after one had been taken, the boy took it to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, intending to ask the clerk to send it to her room.  Instead, he met General and Mrs. Grant just coming from the elevator, going out to dinner.  The boy told them his errand, and said he would have the photograph sent up-stairs.

“I am so sorry we are just going out to dinner,” said Mrs. Grant, “for the general had some excellent photographs just taken of himself, and he signed one for you, and put it aside, intending to send it to you when yours came.”  Then, turning to the general, she said:  “Ulysses, send up for it.  We have a few moments.”

“I’ll go and get it.  I know just where it is,” returned the general.  “Let me have yours,” he said, turning to Edward.  “I am glad to exchange photographs with you, boy.”

To Edward’s surprise, when the general returned he brought with him, not a duplicate of the small carte-de-visite size which he had given the general—­all that he could afford—­but a large, full cabinet size.

“They make ’em too big,” said the general, as he handed it to Edward.

But the boy didn’t think so!