Whole droves of minds are by the driving God
    Compell’d to drink the deep Lethaean flood,
    In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares
    Of their past labours, and their irksome years;
    That unremembering of its former pain
    The soul may suffer mortal flesh again.

(Aeneid, vi. 1020).

Pythagoras, on the other hand, professes a distinct recollection of who he was and what he suffered in his former life.  He remembers that in the time of the Trojan war (at the outside not five hundred years before his time) he was a Trojan—­Euphorbus, the son of Panthous—­and that in the war he was killed by Menelaus; and his memory is so accurate, that not long before he had recognised the very shield which he had borne in the conflict hanging up as a trophy in the temple of Juno at Argos.]

EXPECTATIONS OF A VISIT TO STRAWBERRY BY THE QUEEN.

TO THE HON.  H.S.  CONWAY.

STRAWBERRY HILL, July 2, 1795.

I will write a word to you, though scarce time to write one, to thank you for your great kindness about the soldier, who shall get a substitute if he can.  As you are, or have been in town, your daughter will have told you in what a bustle I am, preparing—­not to resist, but to receive an invasion of royalties to-morrow; and cannot even escape them like Admiral Cornwallis, though seeming to make a semblance; for I am to wear a sword, and have appointed two aides-de-camp, my nephews, George and Horace Churchill.  If I fall, as ten to one but I do, to be sure it will be a superb tumble, at the feet of a Queen and eight daughters of Kings; for, besides the six Princesses, I am to have the Duchess of York and the Princess of Orange!  Woe is me, at seventy-eight, and with scarce a hand and foot to my back!  Adieu!  Yours, &c.

A POOR OLD REMNANT.

REPORT OF THE VISIT.

July 7, 1795.

I am not dead of fatigue with my Royal visitors, as I expected to be, though I was on my poor lame feet three whole hours.  Your daughter [Mrs. Damer], who kindly assisted me in doing the honours, will tell you the particulars, and how prosperously I succeeded.  The Queen was uncommonly condescending and gracious, and deigned to drink my health when I presented her with the last glass, and to thank me for all my attentions.[1] Indeed my memory de la vieille cour was but once in default.  As I had been assured that her Majesty would be attended by her Chamberlain, yet was not, I had no glove ready when I received her at the step of her coach:  yet she honoured me with her hand to lead her up stairs; nor did I recollect my omission when I led her down again.  Still, though gloveless, I did not squeeze the royal hand, as Vice-chamberlain Smith[2] did to Queen Mary.

[Footnote 1:  There cannot be a more fitting conclusion than this letter recording the greatest honour conferred on the writer and his Strawberry by the visit of the Queen of the realm and her condescending proposal of his health at his own table.]