The Republican

A Correct Gauge.

Adam Smith, the noted Scotch author and professor, in delivering his lectures, trusted almost wholly to his power of ready speech. His manner was plain and unaffected, and as he seemed to be always interested in the subject, he never failed to interest his hearers. His biographer says: One little peculiarity in his manner of lecturing was mentioned to the late Archdeacon Sinclair by Archibald Alison, the elder, apparently as Alison heard it from Smith's own lips. He used to acknowledge that in lecturing he was more dependent than most professors on the sympathy of his hearers, and he would sometimes select one of his students, who had more mobile and expressive features than the rest, as an unsuspecting gauge of the extent to which he carried with him the intelligence and interest of the class. "During one whole session," he said, "a certain student, with a plain but expressive countenance, was of great use to me in judging of my success. He sat conspicuously in front of a pillar; I had him constantly under my eye. If he leaned forward to listen, all was right, and I knew I had the ear of my class; but if he leaned back in an attitude of listlessness, I felt at once that all was wrong, and that I must change either the subject or the style of my address."—Youth's Companion.