good spirits; his head and his eye are both clear; he has no extraordinary redness in his face; his tongue is not more foul than in a common cold.  There is some little quickness in his pulse, but it is soft, full, and regular.  In short, there is no one bad symptom about him, only he has a fever and keeps his bed....  De la Saone imagines the whole illness owing to the indigestion of Thursday night.  Some part of the undigested matter having got into his blood, the violent commotion which this had occasioned had burst, he supposes, some small vessel in his veins....  Depend upon hearing from me by every post till his perfect recovery; if any threatening symptom should appear I shall immediately despatch an express to you; so keep your mind as easy as possible.  There is not the least probability that any such symptom ever will appear.  I never stirr from his room from eight in the morning till ten at night, and watch for the smallest change that happens to him.  I should sit by him all night too if the ridiculous, impertinent jealousy of Cook, who thinks my assiduity an encroachment upon his duty, would not be so much alarmed, as it gave some disturbance even to his master in his present illness.

The King has inquired almost every day at his levee of my Lord George and of Mr. De la Saone concerning the Duke’s illness.  The Duke and Dutchess of Fitzjames, the Chevalier de Clermont, the Comte de Guerchy, etc. etc., together with the whole English nation here and at Paris, have expressed the greatest anxiety for his recovery.  Remember me in the most respectful manner to Lady Dalkeith, and believe me to be with the greatest regard, dear sir, your most obliged and most humble servant,

     ADAM SMITH.

     COMPIEGNE, 26th August 1766.

     Wednesday, 5 o’clock afternoon.[184]

Could there be a more pleasing exhibition of the thorough kindness of a manly heart than this picture of the great philosopher sitting day after day by the bedside of his pupil, watching eagerly every indication of change, and only consenting to leave the room for a time at night out of consideration for the silly jealousy of the valet, who thought the tutor’s presence an invasion of his own rights?

The Duke recovered and they returned to Paris.  But while still at Compiegne they heard of a sad event that could not fail to shock them greatly, the death of their greatly esteemed young friend and fellow-traveller, Sir James Macdonald.  “Were you and I together, dear Smith,” writes Hume at this time, “we should shed tears at present for the death of poor Sir James Macdonald.  We could not possibly have suffered a greater loss than in that valuable young man."[185]