He regarded the profession of teacher as an education, and for that very reason he never ceased to be a learner and a discoverer. Instead of sticking in the muddy ruts of dogma, he drove on gathering facts and opinions till he reached the goal. To vary a well-known inscription, he might have written over the door of his class-room, “Deverticulum philosophi ad veritatem proficiscentis,”—the resting-place of a philosopher on march to truth. Assuredly a happier appointment was never made, whether we look at the true interests of the Professor himself or at those of the University. Smith always thought the years at Glasgow the happiest and most useful of his life. Besides his strong preference for Morals over Logic, he had carnal reasons to rejoice in the transference, for it gave a rather better income. Altogether the chair of Morals at Glasgow seems to have yielded about £170 a year—a fine income in Scotland at a time when, as Mr. Rae observes, the largest stipend in the Presbyterian Church was £138. In addition to salary and fees, Smith was allotted a good house in the Professors’ Court, which he shared with his mother and cousin (Miss Jane Douglas), who came from Kirkcaldy to live with him. The manses in the old Professors’ Court were held by the professors in order of seniority, and Smith removed three times in order to take full advantage of his privileges, obtaining the best in 1762, when Leechman, Hutcheson’s biographer, was appointed Principal. In 1761, when a second edition of the _Moral Sentiments_ appeared, with a newly inserted passage describing the view from his study window, he was in the house previously occupied by Dr. Dick, Professor of Natural Philosophy. To this house nature seems to have been especially kind,—though in reading Smith’s description of his view we must recollect that Glasgow, the garden city, was then famous for the clearness of its atmosphere and the beauty of its surroundings. “In my present situation,” that is to say, looking from the window of his study, he sees “an immense landscape of lawns and woods and distant mountains.” The landscape illustrates the philosophy of the mind: it “seems to do no more than cover the little window which I write by and to be out of all proportion less than the chamber in which I am sitting.” He can form a just comparison between the great objects of the remote scene and the little objects in the room only by transporting himself to a different station from whence both could be surveyed at nearly equal distances. The image, it will be seen, is introduced by Adam Smith to illustrate his theory of “the impartial spectator,” the judge within the breast, whom we must consult if we are to see the things that concern ourselves and others in their true shape and proportions. Just as a man must in some measure be acquainted with the philosophy of vision before he can be thoroughly convinced how small is his own room compared with the mountains he sees from his window, so