To encourage manufactures in my town of Glenthorn, I proposed putting a clause in my leases, compelling my tenants to buy stuffs and linens manufactured at Glenthorn, and no where else. Stubborn M’Leod, as usual, began with, “_I doubt_ whether that will not encourage the manufacturers at Glenthorn to make bad stuffs and bad linen, since they are sure of a sale, and without danger of competition.” At all events, I thought my tenants would grow rich and _independent_, if they made every thing _at home_ that they wanted: yet Mr. M’Leod perplexed me by his “doubt whether it would not be better for a man to buy shoes, if he could buy them cheaper than he could make them.” He added something about the division of labour, and Smith’s Wealth of Nations; to which I could only answer--“Smith’s a Scotchman.” I cannot express how much I dreaded Mr. M’Leod’s _I doubt_--and--_It may be doubted._ From the pain of doubt, and the labour of thought, I was soon most agreeably reprieved by the company of a Mr. Hardcastle, whose visits I constantly encouraged by a most gracious reception. Mr. Hardcastle was the agent of the dowager Lady Ormsby, who had a large estate in my neighbourhood: he was the very reverse of my Mr. M’Leod in his deportment and conversation. Talkative, self-sufficient, peremptory, he seemed not to know what it was _to doubt_; he considered doubt as a proof of ignorance, imbecility, or cowardice. _“Can any man doubt?”_ was his usual beginning. On every subject of human knowledge, taste, morals, politics, economy, legislation; on all affairs, civil, military, or ecclesiastical, he decided at once in the most confident tone. Yet he “never read, not he!” he had nothing to do with books; he consulted only his own eyes and ears, and appealed only to common sense. As to theory, he had no opinion of theory; for his part, he only pretended to understand practice and experience--and his practice was confined steadily to his own practice, and his experience uniformly to what he had tried at New-town-Hardcastle. At first I thought him a mighty clever man, and I really rejoiced to see my _doubter_ silenced. After dinner, when he had finished speaking in this decisive manner, I used frequently to back him with a--_Very true--very fair--very clear_--though I understood what he said as little as he did himself; but it was an ease to my mind to have a disputed point settled--and I filled my glass with an air of triumph, whilst M’Leod never contradicted my assertions, nor controverted Mr. Hardcastle’s arguments. There was still an air of content and quiet self-satisfaction in M’Leod’s very silence, which surprised and vexed me.