I had tried the high stool; I hated it; I believed there were other occupations that would suit me better; besides I did not wish to leave Brussels.
"I know of no place in Brussels," answered Mr.Brown, "unless indeed you were disposed to turn your attention to teaching.

I am acquainted with the director of a large establishment who is in want of a professor of English and Latin." I thought two minutes, then I seized the idea eagerly.
"The very thing, sir!" said I.
"But," asked he, "do you understand French well enough to teach Belgian boys English ?" Fortunately I could answer this question in the affirmative; having studied French under a Frenchman, I could speak the language intelligibly though not fluently.

I could also read it well, and write it decently.
"Then," pursued Mr.Brown, "I think I can promise you the place, for Monsieur Pelet will not refuse a professor recommended by me; but come here again at five o'clock this afternoon, and I will introduce you to him." The word "professor" struck me.

"I am not a professor," said I.
"Oh," returned Mr.Brown, "professor, here in Belgium, means a teacher, that is all." My conscience thus quieted, I thanked Mr.Brown, and, for the present, withdrew.

This time I stepped out into the street with a relieved heart; the task I had imposed on myself for that day was executed.