Fortune smiled more bountifully on the scientific Professor when he sallied forth into the literary field, single-handed, and under his own pennon. In 1759 he boldly challenged criticism with his “Theory of Moral Sentiments,” which soon attracted public attention, and won no slight applause. His friends, David Hume and Wedderburn, afterward Lord Chancellor Loughborough, lent their aid to spread the reputation of the book in London; and the historian soon had the happiness of transmitting to the author flattering accounts of its reception. Among others who were captivated with the performance was Charles Townsend, then regarded as “the cleverest fellow in England,” and subsequently immortalized in one of Burke’s most marvelous parliamentary speeches “as the delight and ornament of the House, and the charm of every private society he honored with his presence.” He had already become connected with Scotland by wedding a dowager of high rank, and vindicated his claims to respect as her consort in a very amusing way. On accompanying his titled bride to her residence in “the land of mountain and of flood,” the relatives and dependants of the lady, in their eagerness to do her full honor, seemed rather inclined to forget that a welcome was due to the brilliant and ambitious husband. “For God’s sake, gentlemen,” exclaimed the prodigy, who could hit the House of Commons between wind and water, “remember that I am at least Prince George of Denmark!” He now declared that he would exercise the privilege of a step-father, and put the boy-Duke of Buccleuch under Smith’s tuition. Hume wished to settle the matter at once by having the noble cub sent to Glasgow, but a different course was adopted. Townsend was somewhat uncertain in his resolutions, and four years were allowed to elapse before the necessary arrangements were made. Then Smith received a formal invitation to attend the young duke on his travels; and setting out, they arrived at Paris in the beginning of 1764.