few words and
actually retain them.

I went once from Siracusa to Malta at the end of December; it was
abominably rough, and my luggage was thrown about in the cabin with such
violence that some of the things slipped out of my bag. I was too
sea-sick to be sure I had picked them all up, but afterwards discovered
that the only thing left behind was my new diary for the next year. On
returning from Valletta to Siracusa about a fortnight later, I asked the
steward if he had found my diary and it was produced by the cabin-boy who
must have been a youth of considerable energy and enterprise. He had
apparently learnt by ear several English words and, finding a book full
of blank paper, had written them down, spelling them the best way he
could, that is phonetically, according to Italian pronunciation, and
writing the Italian equivalents, spelt in his own way, in a parallel
column. His writing is so distinct that I am certain I have got every
letter right, but I do not recognize his second English word for latrina,
it is probably some corrupt form of lavatory. The vocabulary, though
restricted, seems a fairly useful one for a cabin-boy to begin with:

ENGL. ITALY.
Fork Forketa
Spoun Cuchiaio
Neif Coltelo
Pleit Piati
Glas Bichiere
Bootl Butiglia
Voutsch Orologio
Tebl Tavola
Ceaer Sedia
Taul Tavaglia
Serviet Serviette
Dabliusii Latrina
Lavetrim ,,
Vouder Aqua
Badi Letto

Peppino is not exactly of this class, his parents were able to give him a
good education, he took his degree at the University of Palermo and,
though he does not practise his profession, is a qualified engineer.
When he returned from London his English was probably better than the
cabin-boy's will ever be, but he is a little out of practice.

I had observed a couple of pictu