Until the end, indeed, he never quite gave up the hope, foreshadowed first in the _Moral Sentiments_ of completing a gigantic survey of civilized institutions.

But he was a slow worker, and his health was never robust.

It was enough that he should have written his book and cherished friendships such as it is given to few men to possess.

Hume and Burke, Millar the jurist, James Watt, Foulis the printer, Black the chemist and Hutton of geological fame--it is an enviable circle.

He had known Turgot on intimate terms and visited Voltaire on Lake Geneva.