gh. I passed the evening in great bodily discomfort, but
managed to play quadrilles, waltzes, and the endless Virginia Reel. When
at last I reached home and my bed, the fever did come with a will. I was
fortunate enough to recover very quickly from this indisposition, and
did not forget the warning which it gave me of the dangers of the Roman
climate. The shivering evening left me a happier recollection. Among my
sister's guests was Horace Binney Wallace, of Philadelphia, whom I had
once met in his own city. He had angered me at that time by his ridicule
of Boston society, of which he really knew little or nothing. He was now
in a less aggressive frame of mind, and this second meeting with him was
the beginning of a much-valued friendship. We visited together many
points of historic interest in the city,--the Pantheon, the Tarpeian
Rock, the bridge of Horatius Cocles. He had some fanciful theories about
the traits of character usually found in conjunction with red hair. As
he and I were both distinguished by this feature, I was much pleased to
learn from him that "the highest effort of nature is to produce a
_rosso_." He was a devoted student of the works of Auguste Comte, and
had recently held some conversation with that remarkable man. In the
course of this, he told me, he asked the great Positivist how he could
account for the general religious instinct of the human race, so
contrary to the doctrines of his philosophy. Comte replied, "Que
voulez-vous, monsieur? Anormalite cerebrale." My new friend was good
enough to interest himself in my literary pursuits. He advised me to
study the most important of Comte's works, but by no means to become a
convert to his doctrines. In due time I availed myself of his counsel,
and read with great interest the volumes prescribed by him.

Horace Wallace was an exhilarating companion. I have never forgotten the
silvery _timbre_ of his rather high voice, nor the glee with which he
would occasionally inform me that he had discovered a new and most
remarkable _rosso_. This was sometimes a picture, but oftener a living
individual. If he found himself disappointed in the latter case, he
would account for it by saying that he had at first sight mistaken the
color of the hair, which shaded too much upon the yellow. Despite his
vivacity of temperament, he was subject to fits of severe depression.
Some years after this time, finding himself in Paris, he happened to
visit a friend whose mental