After deliberating a long time on the bent of my natural inclination, they resolved to dispose of me in a manner the most repugnant to them.

I was sent to Mr.Masseron, the City Register, to learn (according to the expression of my uncle Bernard) the thriving occupation of a scraper.

This nickname was inconceivably displeasing to me, and I promised myself but little satisfaction in the prospect of heaping up money by a mean employment.

The assiduity and subjection required, completed my disgust, and I never set foot in the office without feeling a kind of horror, which every day gained fresh strength.
Mr.Masseron, who was not better pleased with my abilities than I was with the employment, treated me with disdain, incessantly upbraiding me with being a fool and blockhead, not forgetting to repeat, that my uncle had assured him I was a knowing one, though he could not find that I knew anything.

That he had promised to furnish him with a sprightly boy, but had, in truth, sent him an ass.