Letter 197: I remember the deep mud, the bitter cold that struck me on that occasion, and every other hardship -- and all of it...

To Strategius. (359/60) I remember the deep mud, the bitter cold that struck me on that occasion, and every other hardship -- and all of it felt light as long as I could see your face. Though I did pay for it: when I got home, I gave the doctors no end of trouble, my body racked with stabbing pains. Still, I took more pleasure in the reason for my suffering than I would have in staying healthy in bed and missing the race I prize most highly. You will remember: a young man stood before me then, about to speak on his own behalf, but a rainstorm prevented him from getting what he needed. You were unable to help -- but what was admirable about you, no less than the kindness itself, was that you made it clear how much it grieved you to be prevented. Since you have now found a remedy -- hearing through a letter what could not be said aloud -- help this young man. He loves rhetoric, and he is an orphan. Justice and compassion both point the same way.

Στρατωνιανῷ. (359/60) Εἰ μέν του καὶ ἄλλου μισθὸν ὀφείλεις Λεοντίῳ, σαυτὸν ἀναμνήσεις· οὗ δέ σε ἐγὼ οἶδα μισθὸν ὀφείλοντα, τοῦτο παρατηρῶν διετέλεσεν ἐν οἷς ὁ παῖς εἴη σοι, καὶ ἦν οὐδὲν οὔτε τοῦ παιδαγωγοῦ περὶ ταῦτα δεύτερος οὔθ’ ὧν ἂν ἐποί- ησεν ὁ πατὴρ εἰς τὸν ἑαυτοῦ παρών. αὐτὸς μὲν οὖν οὐ.δὲν ἀπαιτεῖν ἀξιοῖ νομίζων υἱέος ἐπιμελεῖσθαι, σὲ δὲ ἄξιον καὶ σιωπῶντι δοῦναι. ἔστι δὲ ὁ μισθὸς ὑπὲρ ὧν ἥκει πραγμάτων, ταῦθ’ ὅπως ὡς τάχιστα λάβοι τέλος φροντίσαι.