Bennet Langton mentions the “decisive professorial manner” in which he was used to talk, and according to Boswell, Topham Beauclerk conceived a high opinion of Smith’s conversation at first, but afterwards lost it, for reasons unreported, though if Beauclerk was himself, as Dean Barnard indicates, the model converser of the club, he would probably grow tired of expository lectures, however excellent and instructive.  A criticism of Garrick’s is more curious.  After listening to Smith one evening, the great player turned to a friend and whispered, “What say you to this? eh, flabby, eh?” but whatever may have been the case that particular evening, flabbiness at least was not a characteristic of Smith’s talk.  It erred rather in excess of substance.  He had Johnson’s solidity and weight, without Johnson’s force and vivacity.  Henry Mackenzie, author of the Man of Feeling, talking of Smith soon after his death with Samuel Rogers, said of him, “With a most retentive memory, his conversation was solid beyond that of any man.  I have often told him after half an hour’s conversation, ’Sir, you have said enough to make a book.’"[237] His conversation, moreover, was particularly wide in its range.  Dugald Stewart says that though Smith seldom started a topic of conversation, there were few topics raised on which he was not found contributing something worth hearing, and Boswell, no very partial witness, admits that his talk evinced “a mind crowded with all manner of subjects.”  Like Sir Walter Scott, Smith has been unjustly accused of habitually abstaining from conversing on the subjects he had made his own.  Boswell tells us that Smith once said to Sir Joshua Reynolds that he made it a rule in company never to talk of what he understood, and he alleges the reason to have been that Smith had bookmaking ever in his mind, and the fear of the plagiarist ever before his eyes.  But the fact thus reported by Boswell cannot be accepted exactly as he reports it, and his explanation cannot be accepted at all.  Men able to converse on a variety of subjects will naturally prefer to converse on those unconnected with their own shop, because they go into company for diversion from their own shop, but it is a question of company and circumstances.  If Smith ever made any such rule as Boswell speaks of, he certainly seems to have honoured it as often by the breach as by the observance, for when his friends brought round the conversation to his special lines of research, he never seems to have failed to give his ideas quite freely, nay, as may be seen from the remark just quoted from Henry Mackenzie, not freely merely but abundantly—­as many as would make a book.  He does not appear to have been in this respect a grudging giver.  I have already quoted his remark on hearing of Blair’s borrowing some of his juridical ideas, “There’s enough left.”  When Sir John Sinclair was writing his History of the Revenue Smith offered him the use of everything, either printed or manuscript,