difficulty than attended my recognition of
him. The circumstances, however, of our first meeting were easily
recalled to his remembrance. I eagerly inquired when and where he had
parted with the youth who had been, on that occasion, intrusted to his
care.

He answered that, on leaving the city and inhaling the purer air of the
fields and woods, Wallace had been, in a wonderful degree, invigorated
and refreshed. An instantaneous and total change appeared to have been
wrought in him. He no longer languished with fatigue or fear, but became
full of gayety and talk.

The suddenness of this transition; the levity with which he related and
commented on his recent dangers and evils, excited the astonishment of
his companion, to whom he not only communicated the history of his
disease, but imparted many anecdotes of a humorous kind. Some of these
my companion repeated. I heard them with regret and dissatisfaction.
They betokened a mind vitiated by intercourse with the thoughtless and
depraved of both sexes, and particularly with infamous and profligate
women.

My companion proceeded to mention that Wallace's exhilaration lasted but
for a short time, and disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. He
was seized with deadly sickness, and insisted upon leaving the carriage,
whose movements shocked his stomach and head to an insupportable degree.
His companion was not void of apprehensions on his own account, but was
unwilling to desert him, and endeavoured to encourage him. His efforts
were vain. Though the nearest house was at the distance of some hundred
yards, and though it was probable that the inhabitants of this house
would refuse to accommodate one in his condition, yet Wallace could not
be prevailed on to proceed; and, in spite of persuasion and
remonstrance, left the carriage and threw himself on the grassy bank
beside the road.

This person was not unmindful of the hazard which he incurred by contact
with a sick man. He conceived himself to have performed all that was
consistent with duty to himself and to his family; and Wallace,
persisting in affirming that, by attempting to ride farther, he should
merely hasten his death, was at length left to his own guidance.

These were unexpected and mournful tidings. I had fondly imagined that
his safety was put beyond the reach of untoward accidents. Now, however,
there was reason to suppose him to have perished by a lingering and
painful disease, rendered fatal by the se