Spain and Portugal; and Don Horatio was to have the
honour of specifying to Don Georgio, by an epistle, whither he would
move. In one point I would have our correspondence like a game at chess;
it should last all our lives--but I hear you cry check; adieu!

Dear George, yours ever.

[Footnote 1: Augusta, younger daughter of Frederic II., Duke of
Saxe-Gotha, married (27th April, 1736) to Frederick, Prince of Wales,
father of George III.

In 1736, I wrote a copy of Latin verses, published in the "Gratulatio
Acad. Cantab.," on the marriage of Frederick, Prince of
Wales.--_Walpole_ (_Short Notes_).]

_FONDNESS FOR OLD STORIES--REMINISCENCES OF ETON, ETC._

TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

KING'S COLLEGE, _May_ 6, 1736.

Dear George,--I agree with you entirely in the pleasure you take in
talking over old stories, but can't say but I meet every day with new
circumstances, which will be still more pleasure to me to recollect. I
think at our age 'tis excess of joy, to think, while we are running over
past happinesses, that it is still in our power to enjoy as great.
Narrations of the greatest actions of other people are tedious in
comparison of the serious trifles that every man can call to mind of
himself while he was learning those histories. Youthful passages of life
are the chippings of Pitt's diamond, set into little heart-rings with
mottoes; the stone itself more worth, the filings more gentle and
agreeable.--Alexander, at the head of the world, never tasted the true
pleasure that boys of his own age have enjoyed at the head of a school.
Little intrigues, little schemes, and policies engage their thoughts;
and, at the same time that they are laying the foundation for their
middle age of life, the mimic republic they live in furnishes materials
of conversation for their latter age; and old men cannot be said to be
children a second time with greater truth from any one cause, than their
living over again their childhood in imagination. To reflect on the
season when first they felt the titillation of love, the budding
passions, and the first dear object of their wishes! how unexperienced
they gave credit to all the tales of romantic loves! Dear George, were
not the playing fields at Eton food for all manner of flights? No old
maid's gown, though it had been tormented into all the fashions from
King James to King George, ever underwent so many transformations as
those poor plains have in my idea. At first I was contented w