I also learnt that shrugging the shoulders while exhibiting
the palms of the hands, and smiting oneself vehemently on the
chest, are indispensable elements of the French idiom. The
indiscriminate use of the word 'parfaitement' I also noticed
to be essential when at a loss for either language or ideas,
and have made valuable use of it ever since.

Monsieur Vincent, my tutor, was a most good-natured and
patient teacher. I incline, however, to think that I taught
him more English than he taught me French. He certainly
worked hard at his lessons. He read English aloud to me, and
made me correct his pronunciation. The mental agony this
caused me makes me hot to think of still. I had never heard
his kind of Franco-English before. To my ignorance it was
the most comic language in the world. There were some words
which, in spite of my endeavours, he persisted in pronouncing
in his own way. I have since got quite used to the most of
them, and their only effect is to remind me of my own rash
ventures in a foreign tongue. There are one or two words
which recall the pain it gave me to control my emotions. He
would produce his penknife, for instance; and, contemplating
it with a despondent air, would declare it to be the most
difficult word in the English language to pronounce. 'Ow you
say 'im?' 'Penknife,' I explained. He would bid me write it
down; then having spelt it, he would, with much effort, and a
sound like sneezing - oh! the pain I endured! - slowly repeat
'Penkneef.' I gave it up at last; and he was gratified with
his success. As my explosion generally occurred about five
minutes afterwards, Monsieur Vincent failed to connect cause
and effect. When we parted he gave me a neatly bound copy of