of a quarter of a
century. The greater probability is, that Smith felt that he had done
enough for fame; that, knowing the world, he was unwilling to expose
himself to the caprices of critical applause; and that he even felt how
inadequate the early theories which found admirers in the lecture-room,
might be to sustain a character already brought into full publicity by
his own volumes. The fact is certain, that he produced nothing more. In
July 1790, he died, at the age of sixty-seven. It was his custom to give
a supper on the Sunday evening to a numerous circle of friends. How far
this entertainment, which was more consistent with the latitude of his
Paris recollections, was reconcilable with the decorums of Scotland, we
cannot say. But on one evening, after having destroyed his manuscripts,
finding himself not so well as usual, he retired to bed before supper,
and as he went, said to his friends, "I believe we must adjourn this
meeting to some other place." He died in a very few days afterwards.

Lord Brougham has obviously expended his chief labour on the life of
this favourite philosopher, of whom, fifty years ago, every Scottish
economist was a devoted pupil. Times are changed, yet this intelligent
biographer has given a very ample and accurate, so far as we can judge,
analysis of the _Enquiry_. But he would have greatly increased the
obligations of the reader, by giving some portion of his treatise to the
questions which modern artifice has devised, and modern infatuation has
adopted.

An interesting "memoir" of Johnson commences the volume; but the topic
would lead us too far. The biographer gives that literary Samson full
applause for the strength of his understanding, the boldness of his
morality, and the pungency of his wit. Rather to our surprise, he pours
out an eloquent panegyric on Boswell. That we are indebted to this
versatile personage for one of the most amusing and instructive
collections of reminiscences in the history of authorship, will be
readily conceded. But this is the first time of our hearing a demand
that we should pay him any more peculiar homage. But Lord Brougham is
himself the head of a school: his _ipse dixit_ demands acquiescence, and
none can doubt that, if he is singular in his dogmas, he deserves
attention for the vigour of his advocacy.

REYNARD THE FOX.[2]

The natural history of the Cockney has been frequently illustrated, and
never so successfully as in time past in