dgings to the Dutch as I travelled on.
When I came to Louvain, I was resolved not to go sneaking to the lower
professors, but openly tendered my talents to the principal himself.
I went, had admittance, and offered him my service as a master of
the Greek language, which I had been told was a desideratum in his
university. The principal seemed at first to doubt of my abilities;
but of these I offered to convince him, by turning a part of any Greek
author he should fix upon into Latin. Finding me perfectly earnest in my
proposal, he addressed me thus: You see me, young man, continued he, I
never learned Greek, and I don't find that I have ever missed it. I have
had a doctor's cap and gown without Greek: I have ten thousand florins
a year without Greek; I eat heartily without Greek, and in short,
continued he, as I don't know Greek, I do not believe there is any good
in it.

'I was now too far from home to think of returning; so I resolved to go
forward. I had some knowledge of music, with a tolerable voice, and now
turned what was once my amusement into a present means of subsistence.
I passed among the harmless peasants of Flanders, and among such of
the French as were poor enough to be very merry; for I ever found
them sprightly in proportion to their wants. Whenever I approached a
peasant's house towards night-fall, I played one of my most merry tunes,
and that procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next
day. I once or twice attempted to play for people of fashion; but they
always thought my performance odious, and never rewarded me even with
a trifle. This was to me the more extraordinary, as whenever I used in
better days to play for company, when playing was my amusement, my music
never failed to throw them into raptures, and the ladies especially; but
as it was now my only means, it was received with contempt: a proof
how ready the world is to under rate those talents by which a man is
supported.

'In this manner I proceeded to Paris, with no design but just to look
about me, and then to go forward. The people of Paris are much fonder of
strangers that have money, than of those that have wit. As I could not
boast much of either, I was no great favourite. After walking about the
town four or five days, and seeing the outsides of the best houses, I
was preparing to leave this retreat of venal hospitality, when passing
through one of the principal streets, whom should I meet but our cousin,
to whom