1.XXII.--TO CATILIUS SEVERUS.

Here am I still in Rome, and a good deal surprised to find myself here.
But I am troubled at the long illness of Titus Aristo, which he cannot
shake off. He is a man for whom I feel an extraordinary admiration and
affection: search where you will, he is second to none in character,
uprightness, and learning--so much so that I hardly look upon his
illness as that of a mere individual being in danger. It is rather as
if literature and all good arts were personified in him, and through him
were in grievous peril. What a knowledge he has of private and public
rights and the laws relating to them! What a mastery he has of things
in general, what experience, what an acquaintance with the past! There
is nothing you may wish to learn that he cannot teach you; to me,
certainly, he is a perfect mine of learning whenever I am requiring any
out-of-the-way information. Then again, how convincing his conversation
is, how strongly it impresses you, how modest and becoming is his
hesitation! What is there that he does not know straight away? And
yet, often enough, he shows hesitation and doubt, from the very
diversity of the reasons that come crowding into his mind, and upon
these he brings to bear his keen and mighty intellect, and, going back
to their fountain-head, reviews them, tests them, and weighs them in the
balance. Again, how sparing he is in his manner of life, how unassuming
in his dress! I often look at his bedroom and the bed itself, as though
they were models of old-fashioned economy. However, they are adorned by
his splendid mind, which has not a thought for ostentation, but refers
everything to his conscience. He seeks his reward for a good deed not
in the praise of the world, but in the deed itself. In short, you will
not find it easy to discover any one, even among those who prefer to
study wisdom rather than take heed to their bodily pleasures, worthy to