Extracts from Lucille's Journal

3rd February.

... The first sight of the skyline of New York from the water is really staggering, and it is just as impressive when you are in the streets and beside these enormous "skyscrapers" that rise up like great cliffs. To someone accustomed, like me, to build­ ings in London or Paris four or five storeys high, it takes your breath away to see them here shooting up 70, 80, 100 storeys3.

1 Journal to Stella by Jonathan Swift (1667- 1745).

2 Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Dr. Johnson by James Boswell (1740- 1795).

3 But we are getting them in London now (1963) of 40-50 storeys.

 

NEW YORK SKYLINE

They are a sort of vertical landscape instead of the hor­ izontal one that we are ac­ customed to. They are hard and bare but they give one a feeling of power and have a kind of cold, hard beauty, and at night, when all the windows are lit up, the hard­

ness of the daytime is softened, and the scene becomes a twen­ tieth-century fairyland.

I went up the highest one, the Empire State Building, 102 sto­ reys, more than a thousand feet high, the highest man-made thing in the world. (When you get to the top you can buy a badge for your coat saying "I've been up!").

Many Americans are terribly impressed with mere size; to them "bigger" and "better" seem to mean the same thing. Within a very short time of being here I was told that the Cathedral in New York is the largest "Gothic" Cathedral in the world; that the finger of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbour is eight feet long and that forty people can stand in­ side its head; that the Rockefeller Centre cost 100 million dol­ lars to build, has 13,000 telephones, and its hanging gardens are four times the size of the famous hanging gardens of Babylon that were one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world; that Macy's (the famous department store) employs 11,000 shop assistants and sells a million dollars' worth of goods every day; and if all the people on the skyscrapers came out at once, the streets couldn't hold them. As for their newspapers there is no doubt at all that, for the number of pages, they certainly take the prize, the daily edition of a newspaper has anything from 60 to 100 pages, and the Sunday editions remind you in size of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. But, of course, the United States is a big place. As one American said to me, "You can leave New York, fly twice as far as from London to Moscow, and find yourself still in America".

* * *

10th February.

It is easy to fmd your way about in New York, it is laid out so regularly. Instead of streets wandering and twisting as they do in London, they are all regular and planned. The streets running north an south are called "Avenues" and are num­ bered, e. g. 1st Avenue, 2nd Avenue, 3rd Avenue, etc., the

streets going east and west are called "Streets" and are also numbered, e. g. 51st Street, 63rd Street, etc. It's all very much more logical and sensible than London's street names; but I couldn't help thinking how much more fascinating than these dull, cold numbers are London's illogical but colourful "Pater­ noster Row" and "Amen Corner", "Drury Lane" and "Petti­ coat Lane" (which are not lanes at all), "Bishopsgate" (which isn't a gate and hasn't a bishop in it), "Haymarket" or "Corn Market" (where you won't see any hay or corn), "Poultry" (with not a live chicken anywhere in sight) or "Threadneedle Street" where you will find not little girls learning to sew, but the fortress-like Bank of England.

* * *

15th February. When I first arrived in America I thought how English Ameri­

ca was: the people speak (more or less) the same language as the English, their dress, houses, food, democratic government are - with, of course, some differences -very similar. After a time I began to realise that there were some differences be­ tween England and America; I suppose that isn't surprising when we think of the many nations that have gone to the making of America. I have been told that there are more Irish in America than in Dublin, more Germans than in Hamburg, more Poles than in Warsaw, more Russians than in Kiev, more Scandinavians than in Oslo and Stockholm, twice as many British as in Manchester, and more negroes than the combined population of Ghana, Congo, Guinea, Liberia and South West Africa. And before very long it was the differences between England and America that struck me most. For example the American word for many things is not the same as the English one. So curtains are "drapes", a holiday is a "vacation", a cinema is "the movies", a cookery book is a "cook-book", a label is a "tag" and a lift an "elevator". Here, your luggage is your "baggage" and instead of pound notes you have "dollar bills" (which you put not into a note case but into a "bill fold"). The pavement is the "sidewalk", petrol is "gasoline" (gas). Biscuits, if sweet, are "cookies", if plain, are "crackers"; and instead of posting a letter you "mail" it. You don't live in a flat but an "apartment" (you would be unlucky if you had a "flat"; it means a puncture in the tyre - which they write "tire" - of your motor-car). Sweets are "candy", a tin is a "can", the Underground (railway) is the "subway", and the Englishman's trousers and waistcoat are the American's "pants" and "vest".

The Englishman, making an appointment with you, will say, for example, "I will call for you at a quarter to eighf' or "at haljjJast four'; the American would say "at a quarter before (or of) eight" or "a half after four". After an Englishman has phoned you, he will ring off, after an American has "called" you, he will "hang up".

The well-mannered Englishman at table holds and keeps his knife in his right hand, his fork in his left, cuts his meat and presses his vegetables on to his fork. The well-mannered Ameri­ can first cuts up all his meat, then places his knife down on the right of his plate, takes his fork in his right hand and with his fork lifts the food to his mouth. He will have coffee (generally with cream) half-way through his dinner before the pudding (which he calls "dessert"). The Englishman drinks his coffee ("black" usually) after the dinner. And, of course, Americans are coffee-drinkers rather than tea-drinkers. The English (among whom tea-making is almost a religious ceremony) would be shocked at the American's idea of how tea should be made. I remember what we said about English coffee. That's nothing to what English people would say about American tea. The popular method is to take a cup or a pot of hot (not necessarily boiling) water and drop into it a cotton bag with tea leaves in it. For a change they will sometimes put a pan of water on the electric stove and, just as the water gets warm, throw in a few tea-spoonfuls of tea and then pour the mixture into a tea-pot (cold, of course), pour it from there into a cup (or glass) and then drink it without turning a hair.

 

THE NON-FINITES (4): THE GERUND

(He.11uitnbte rjJopM bt (4): zepyniJuu)

The gerund looks exactly like the present participle, i.e. it is formed from a verb and ends in -ing. The difference is that the present participle is a verbal adjective and the gerund is a ver­ bal noun. Here are examples:

Smoking is allowed in this carriage. Lucille likes dancing.

Seeing is believing. Olaf is fond of walking. George earns his living by selling washing-machines.

After a preposition (like of or by in the last two sentences) the only part of the verb that can be used is the gerund 1. The gerund often qualifies a noun just as the participle does, but note the difference in meaning between:

1 The to of the infinitive, e. g. "Iwant to speak to you", is not a preposition.

Participle Gerund

a dancing girl (= a girl who a dancing-teacher (= a teacher is dancing or who dances) of dancing)

a sleeping child (=a child a sleeping-carriage (= a rail- who is sleeping) way carriage fitted with beds). a walking doll (= a doll that a walking match (= a race walks) for fast walkers)

H o b: That reminds me of the boys who put up a notice outside their garden gate:

 

Some people paid their threepences and went inside, and all they saw was match-stick floating in a saucerful of water.

M r. P r i e s t 1e y: They expected to see a gerund and all they saw was a participle!

Notice the difference in pronunciation. When a participle qualifies a noun, both words are stressed. When a gerund qualifies a noun, only the gerund is stressed, e. g.

Participle Gerund

a sleeping child a sleeping-carriage 1

a running stream running-shoes

e3. Y nP A >K HE HHSI

I. CJIOBapmw pa6oTa.IlpH)JyMaiiTe npeMO.)KeHHH co CJIOBaMu:

actually (use also actual), diary (how does this differ from dairy?), staggering, storey (not story), vertical, horizontal, badge, department store, assistants (use also assistance), twist, fasci­ nating, logical (what is the opposite?), poultry, thread (de­ scribe how you would thread a needle), democratic (use also autocratic, bureaucratic), label, pavement, puncture, vegetable (mention six vegetables), ceremony, stove.

II. 06'hHCHHTe CJie)J,yIOrn,ue B& peHHH u3 11.HeBHHKa JlrocuJIJI& u npu­ BeiJ,HTe npuMep&1 Ha KIUKIJ,oe cJioBocoqeTaHue:

1. under separate cover. 2. all the same. 3. It takes your breath away. 4. it is laid out regularly. 5. I couldn't help thin­ king. 6. fortress-like. 7. that have gone to the making. 8. a well­ mannered man. 9. is nothing to... 10. without turning a hair.

 

1 06paTnTe BHMMaHHe Ha HaJIWIHe,!l;ecpwca Me)K)zy repytt,D;HeM H cy:w:e­ CTBHTeJihHh M.

III.,Il;aii:Te 6pHTancKHii: BapnanT npe,!Vlo:iKeuuii::

I called Lucille to see if she was back from her vacation and would like to come out with me to dinner and the movies. She said she would love it so I said I would come for her at a quarter before eight. I hung up, went home and changed my coat, vest and pants, put some dollar bill in my bill fold and, at half after seven, drove to Lucille's apartment. I went up in the elevator and came into her apartment. I admired the new drapes; we ate one or two crackers and cookies and some candy and then went down to my automobile. I had left it (full of gas) by the sidewalk, but when I looked at it I saw I had got a flat, so we had to take a taxi.

KaK 6b1 no11HJ1u Bblpa:iKeuue "/ am mad about my flat"

a) aHrnWiamrn, 6) aMepm<aHeu;?

IV. IIepeBe)J,uTe B KOCBenuyro peqL, uaqumui Ka:lK,!l,Oe npe,!VIO:iKeuue co CJIOB: "/ asked Lucille... "

IlpUM ep: "Have you ever been to America before?"

I asked Lucille if (whether) she had ever been to America before.

1. Are you keeping a journal? 2. Do you think your journal will interest Mr. Priestley? 3. Did you go to the top of the Empire State Building? 4. How high is that building? 5. Have you been to Macy's department store? 6. Did you go along Fifth Avenue? 7. What do the American call biscuits? 8. Where do you think you will go next? 9. Is there a lift in your flat?

10. Can you find your way easily about New York? 11. Does New York remind you of London? 12. Did you drink tea in America?

v. IlpH,!1,yMaii:Te npe,!VIO:lKeHHH co CJIOBOcoqeTaHHHMH, HCUOJib3YH noc­ Jie HUX repyn,!1,HH:

1. I am fond of. 2. laugh at. 3. look forward to. 4. think about.

5. believe in. 6. afraid of. 7. instead of. 8. succeed in. 9. tired of.

10. interested in. 11. used to. 12. have difficulty in. 13. in the habit of. 14. in danger of. 15. reason for. 16. ashamed of.

Composition Exercises

VI. Describe briefly - as Lucille does - how (a) a well-mannered Englishman, (b) a well-mannered American, uses his knife and fork,

(c) how (according to Lucille) Americans make tea, (d) how you think it ought to be made.

VII. Give a page or two from your (imaginary) journal.

VIII. Write a short composition on:

(a) First Impressions.

(b) The pleasures of travel.

LESSON 25

THE AMERICAN SCENE (2)

LUCILLE'S JOURNAL (continued)

17th February.

One often hears of the Englishman's "reserve": how he likes to "keep himself to himself ' and how on a long railway journey, with four Englishmen in the carriage, often there won't be a word spoken during the whole journey. I'm sure that wouldn't be the case in America. The Englishman thinks it is ill-man­ nered to ask personal questions. The American doesn't feel that at all. In the short ride between the boat on which you arrived in New York and the hotel to which you are being driven, the taxi driver will have told you all about himself, his wife and family and probably the towns in England that he was in during the war. He will inquire where you have come from, what your job is, how you like America and how long you are staying in New York. The Englishman prizes privacy, the American prefers so­ ciability. I think this same feeling shows itself in the houses in the two countries. The Englishman's suburban house has its little garden with a hedge or a fence all round it to shut him off from his neighbours. "The Englishman's home is his castle". The American houses have no hedges or fences separating them from the pavement or from each other. There are none of those little shut-off gardens; generally just a strip of grass with trees in it. The American in his home doesn't object to being seen by everyone - he actually likes it. And inside the house, instead of the separate hall, living-room, dining-room, so typical of the English house, the American has the "open plan" house, just one large room where all the family activities (usually noisy) go on with, perhaps, a "dining recess" or

a "kitchen-breakfast-room".

"But, Hank", I said to a young man I know here, "don't you sometimes want privacy, to be by yourself?" "If I want privacy", said Hank, "I go to bed".

With this sociability goes overwhelming hospitality. I don't think any door in the world is more open to the stranger than is the American's. You get taken to parties at the houses of your friends and of your friends' friends; you are invited to theatres, dinners, sports meetings, motor trips; from the first minute you are on "first name" terms with the people you meet ("Hiya Lucille, pleased to meet you"); they all show the

keenest interest in your affairs and ask you to let them know if

they can help.

"Yes", said a somewhat cynical young American to me, "and by the following week they have forgotten all about you. They like new things - and they get rid of their friends as they do of their cars. No one strikes up acquaintance sooner than we do, and nobody finds it harder to make a real friendship".

Well, that may be what happens to male visitors, but I must say the young men here, even after three or four weeks, cer­ tainly don't seem to have forgotten all about me! But I agree that they like new things, a new car every year, the latest thing in television, this year's, or, if possible, next year's, washing­ machine. In England - and in France - I knew people who had lived in the same house and been in the same job for twenty, thirty, forty years, and who would hate to pull up their roots and change to something new. That's not the American way of life. They love change, they call it "the spirit of adven­ ture", a spirit that they think is more characteristic of America than of Europe. There may be something in this. There was a very interesting remark in a book 1 (written by an Englishman, Kenneth Harris) that I read recently giving what he thought was a reason for this American characteristic. He wrote:

"We in England, and the French, the Germans, the Ita­ lians, even the Russians, have all got one thing in common - we are descended from the men who stayed behind. In the States they are descended from the folk who moved away".

And so they still like to "move away", to change homes and jobs. They seem to be constantly pulling down old and often quite beautiful houses or throwing away things merely because they are old. They have none of the Englishman's sentimental love for things because they are old. I thought of that beautiful big old clock that stands in Mr. Priestley's hall. Mrs. Priestley told me that her grandfather had it made, more than a hundred years ago, for his wedding. I used to love to hear it striking twelve, though it usually did so when the hands were pointing to twenty to two! An American would throw out the old clock and have a shining new electric one. It might not be beautiful; it would have no history or "tradition"; it would certainly not be loved, and its life would be short, lasting only until a newer model came out. But as long as it lived it would strike the hour at the right time.

 

1 Travelling Tongues.

I happened to mention Mr. Priestely's old tweed jacket (you remember it) to a young American. The jacket was beautifully cut and you could see at a glance that it had been made by a good tailor, but it was at least ten years old, the colour had faded and there were leather patches at the elbows; but how fond he was of it! The young American gazed at me in surprise and said, "I don't want a suit to last me for more than a year. What's the point of wearing an old suit if you can afford to buy a new one? In fact", he added, "I consider your Mr. Priestley a bad citizen. America is a prosperous country; it has the high­ est standard of living in the world. There is a car (sometimes two) in practically every home, the ordinary working man has his own television set; there is in his house a washing-machine, a refrigerator and 'deep freeze', and probably a dishwashing­ machine, radios that wake you up in the morning and, at the same time, make you a cup of tea or coffee. There are 'hi-fi' gramophones or tape-recorders. Thousands of people have tennis courts or swimming-pools in their gardens. They go for good holidays, cruises or visits to Europe.

"You complained because, when you ordered a steak in a restaurant, it was so big that you had to leave three-quarters of it and it had to be thrown away". (That's quite true, it covered the whole plate. I don't think even Hob could have eaten it.) "That", he continued triumphantly, "is why we have the high­ est standard of living in the word. It is because you - and millions of other people - leave three-quarters of your steak uneaten that our butchers and farmers are prosperous. If Ameri­ cans didn't get a new car every year (though their old one is quite good) thousands of our workpeople would be out of work. I sell clothes, and I'd hate three or four million Mr. Priestleys in America saying, 'This suit of mine is three years old, but I can make it last another year.' If, instead of doing that, he and a few thousands more bought a new suit - that they really don't need - I should be more prosperous. I could buy a new and better radio and a new washing-machine or go for a longer holiday - and so bring prosperity to the men

who make and sell radios or washing machines, to hotel keepers, to the railways or air-lines or shipping companies. America is prosperous be­ cause it has a 'waste economy'; and the greater the waste, the greater the prosperity".

I have a feeling that there is something wrong in this argument - but I can't see what it is!

There is the point, of course, that the wealth that most people seem to be enjoying, is not their in reality. These cars, refrigerators, television sets, the wife's fur coat and the hus­ band's gold watch, the house and the furniture in it are usually bought on hire-purchase and are being paid for by monthly instalments over a number of years. A lot of these people are really living beyond their income "to keep up with the Jone­ ses". Ifa slump in trade came, like the one in 1931, the greater part of these goods that the people are using could not be paid for. Even in the present period of prosperity many people have a struggle to pay these monthly instalments. There was an in­ teresting sidelight on this struggle in a "commercial" that I heard on the radio (and here you can't help hearing commercials; every few minutes the programme is interrupted to give you one advertising something or other). This one said: "You got 1 money troubles? You being pushed around because you can't pay the instalments on your car, your television, your washing­ machine or your home? That's bad. But don't worry, friend; I'll tell you what to do. Get right into your car and come and see me at the Omega Bank right here in your town. Just ask for the President. And this is what I'll do - I'll advance you enough money to pay off all those accounts, and after that you'll only have one monthly payment to worry about. Did I say "worry"? With the Omega Bank you won't have any wor­ ries, so just ask for me, the President".

Easy, isn't it?

You can't escape from the radio here. Radios are switched on early in the morning and go on all day as a permanent background noise. So you hear them wherever you go - in houses, cars, restaurants, taxis, railway stations. You don't pay

for a licence, as you do in England, to have a radio. The money for the programmes is provided by the man­ ufacturers of cars, soap, cigarettes, beauty preparations who "buy time" in which to advertise their products. And advertising is a fine art here; an American said to me: "The best brains in our country go into sales­ manship. Any fool can make a thing. What takes real brains is to sell it

HAVE A SMOG when the customer has got one al-

 

1 Colloquial American for "Have you got...", "Are you being...?"

ready and doesn't want another". The result is that when you listen to their "commercials" you are more or less told that if you use A's soap powder in your kitchen you will remain young and beautiful, if you smoke B's cigarettes, women will find you irresistible; if you use "Dento" tooth-paste a rise 1 in salary is a certainty, and by always buying Blobb's Tomato Sauce, you will sing like Maria Callas. I don't suppose anyone believes a word it - nevertheless, people do buy this particular brand of soap powder, cigarettes, toothpaste and sauce in large quantities.

 

THE NON-FINITES (5): GERUND AND INFINITIVE

(HeAU'l,Hbte <]>opMbt (5): zepyuiJuu u uu<]>uuumuB)

One of the difficulties in learning English is that after some verbs you must use the gerund, after other you must use the infinitive, and after some you can use either.

Verbs followed by the Gerund

Some of the verbs followed by the gerund are: avoid, dislike, enjoy, finish, mind (= object to), e. g.

He couldn't avoid meeting them.

He enjoys asking questions but dislikes answering them. When you have finished talking, we will continue the lesson. Do you mind passing the salt?

Verbs followed by the Infinitive

Verbs followed by the Infinitive are: (a) all the "special" verbs, (b) the verbs expect, hope, mean (=intend), promise, want and certain others, e. g.

(Special verbs) You ought to try harder. You must do this work. I shall see him tomorrow.

(Other verbs) My friends expect to arrive here on Saturday and I hope to meet them at the airport. They mean to stay with us for a month. I want to learn English and I promise to work hard.

Y n P A >K H E H HSI

I. CJioBapmui pa6oTa. IlpH,11,yMailTe nperoio1KeHHH co CJIOBaMu:

reserve (as a noun (three meanings) and as as verb. What is a reserved seat?), ill-mannered (what is the opposite?), enquire (and enquiry. You will also see inquire and inquiry), privacy (use also private), sociability (use also social, sociable, society, socialism,) suburban (use suburbs), hedge (compare with edge),

 

1 They call it a raise.

strip (compare with stripe), activities (use also active), recess, overwhelming, hospitality (use also hospitable. Don't confuse it with hospital'.), cynical, acquaintance (common noun and abstract. Use an example of each. What is the difference between an acquaintance and a friena?), descended (what is the oppo­ site of descena?), sentimental, brand-new, tradition, obviously, patches, gaze, prosperous, refrigerator, tape-recorder, cruise, triumphantly, economy (use also economic, economics, econo­ mical), hire-purchase, instalments, slump (what is the oppo­ sites), switch (noun and verb), licence (use also license), pro­ ducts (also producer, production), irresistible (use also resist, resistance).

II. 06'hHCHHTe CJie)JJ'IOrn,ne BhipIDKeuHH:

1. To keep oneself to oneself. 2. personal questions. 3. to shut him off from his neighbours. 4. an open-plan house. 5. to be on first-name terms, 6. to strike up an acquaintance. 7. this is the latest thing in... 8. people don't like to pull up their roots.

9. they have one thing in common. 10. What's the point of...

11. a deep-freeze. 12. a waste economy. 13. keeping up with the Joneses. 14. a radio "commercial". 17. advertising here is a fine art.

III. Bw noMHHTe npe1:um)Keuue o CTapoM naJibTO M-pa IlpucTJIH: "How fond he was of it!" 3To BOCKJIHIJaTeJihHOe npeAJIO)Keuue. Ilepei:.eJiaii:Te CJiei:.yrorn,ue npeAJIO)KeHHH B BOCKJIHIJaTeJihHhie:

1. America is a very big country. (What...!) 2. I have been very happy here. (How...!) 3. They seem to waste a lot of food.

4. Everyone is very hospitable here. 5. She sings beautifully.

6. This car goes at a great speed. 7. He has been very kind to her. 8. He has done a lot for you. 9. Her face is very pale.

10. We are glad to see you. 11. America is a country for cars.

IV. In the reading you had the words: a dining-room, a washing-machine,

i. e. the gerund of the verb to dine and to wash is used like an adjective to qualify a noun. Use the gerunds of thefollowing verbs in the same way: meet, ride, wait, write, shave, live, play, swim, walk, read.

Coquueuue

V. HanumuTe ue6oJihmoe coquueuue ua oi:.uy H3 TeM:

1. "The Englishman's home is his castle".

2. "Change proves that we have spirit of adventure". Discuss.

3. Advertisements 0R: Advertising.

4. "Keeping up with the Joneses".

5. "The greater the waste, the greater the prosperity". Discuss.

LESSON 26

THE AMERICAN SCENE (3)

LUCILLE'S JOURNAL (continued)

20th February. What a country this is for cars! America is a nation on wheels, and I have a feeling that the American man thinks longer and more earnestly about choosing his car than choosing his wife. The words in which the makers describe cars are pure poetry. Looking through the New Yorker magazine I met the following descriptions of cars: "the car with youthful beauty that sur­ rounds you with silent strength", "balanced beauty", "luxury reflected in every shining inch", "see its clean length knifmg through clear, cool air", "jewel-bright beauty", "sculptured in steel", "There is nothing like a new car - and there's never been a new car like this. We proudly invite you to inspect it". One of the cars has a "great deep-breathing engine", the engine ofanother is "lean-muscled". But the advertisement I liked best

showed a picture of the car, and underneath you read:

"If you know the woman who should have this car, you must admire her very much - she's gentle, strong and intense­ ly feminine. Her sense of beauty, of the rightness of things accepts this car easily - and because she knows and loves fine things she will have an affection for this car. If you know this remarkable woman, you'd be well advised to marry her quick­ ly. If you are lucky, you already have".

Almost every American has at least one car, and, as he doesn't believe in walking anywhere if he can go in a car, there are "drive-in" banks where you can cash a cheque without even turning off your engine, drive-in post-offices, or drive-in cafeterias where a meal is

brought to you on a tray that fits neatly on to the door of your car; there is even a drive-in church.

* * *

One evening I was taken by a friend to a drive-in ci­

nema about 10 miles out of the city. We set off as it was growing dark and soon I saw

cars coming from all direc- DRIVE-IN CINEMA

tions towards a skyscraper screen that you could see more than a mile away. Then we slowly went past the box office where we reached out to pay for admis-sion and turned along a wide drive towards the curved lines of cars, about 3,000 of them. We switched off our car lights, and attendants waved us on with electric torches to our place (about 100 yards from the enor­ mous screen on which we could see the soundless picture mov­ ing) where there was an instrument, a loudspeaker, something like a telephone, hooked to a post. My friend unhooked the loudspeaker, fixed it inside the car, switched it on, and now the dumb figures on the screen were no longer dumb; without lea­ ving the comfort of our car we were at a cinema performance. At the interval a comic flf11re on the screen announced:

"Ice cream, hot dogs, soft drinks too, Sandwiches, coffee, all ready for you".

Car doors opened and people made their way to the re­ freshment room where they could get the refreshments they wanted on trays which they brought back to the cars.

At last the performance ended; a message appeared on the screen: "Please remove the loudspeaker before starting up your car", and as midnight was striking we were on the road again towards home.

* * *

I doubt whether England will adopt drive-in cinemas, but

I believe they have begun to adopt another American feature, "motels", that is hotels for motorists. You find them all along the great American highways, rows of them, small one-storey buildings, something like Swiss chalets2or smart-looking huts, each with a brightly-lighted sign at the entrance. You give your name and pay the charge at the little office, drive up to your door and park your car outside. There is no service - you don't see any attendants. The rooms are plain but clean end pleasant and comfortable. There is a bath - or a shower, - a radio (perhaps a television), towels, soap, sometimes a pair of slippers or a few books by the bed. You walk down the road to a restaurant where you can get a meal, and in the morning you just step into your car and drive off.

The big highways are magnificent for the fast driver, and I must say I love them. But even roads like this don't always

1 hot dogs = American term for a split roll enclosing a hot sausage spread with mustard.

2 Pronounced ['Jrehz].

prevent accidents and I couldn't help noticing some typical American safety-signs:

 

"Can your wife afford your funeral?"

 

"This is God's country.

Don't drive through it like hell".

 

 

"Only one letter removes DANGER from ANGER".

 

And one frightening reminder, a wrecked car on a high platform, and under it was written:

 

"Three died in this. Your turn next?"

* * *

10th March.

There are, of course, wonderful shops here, but so there are in London, Paris, Rome and dozen more great cities. In shop windows here I saw a magnificent fur coat on which was a card saying, "Earth has not anything to show more fair", a pair of earrings priced at $3,000 each, a tiny bottle of scent priced at

$65. And, in contrast to all this magnificence, bread "sprayed with bakery smell", fish "sprayed with smell of the sea", little pieces of "Texas oil stone, 13,000 feet deep, 400,000,000 years old", and, perhaps the silliest of all, empty tins from Florida labelled "filled with pure air from Florida's coast; send one to your friends".

But the shops that are most characteristically American are the "drug stores" and the "supermarkets". A "drug store" is not, as an Englishman might think, a "chemist's shop", i.e. a place that sells only - or mainly - drugs. In some of them you can buy drugs, but their main business is to sell stationery, candy, milk shakes, braces, fountain pens, ice-cream, toasters, electric clocks, doormats, paper-backed books or imitation jew­ ellery. Every drug store has a food counter where you can sit on a high stool and have hot chocolate, Coca-Cola, orange juice, hot dogs, coffee, cakes, sandwiches or omelettes.

There are "automats" from which on putting in a coin you can get a plate of cooked ham, cooked beef or cheese 1, or "the best hand-carved sandwich in town"-all to the constant sound of music from the "juke-boxes" 2 or "canned music" that is telephoned in.

 

1 American: humburger, beefburger, cheeseburger.

2 juke-box [' d:3u:kboks] -machine which plays music when a coin is put in.

I had already seen supermarkets in England but the ones here are vastly bigger: some covering 40,000 square feet are not uncommon, and they have huge car-parks where the cars of a thousand customers can be parked. I am told that nearly 50% of the groceries sold in America are sold in the super­ markets. As you walk to the doors they automatically open, and as you enter they automatically close after you. Inside, there are bright lights and amusing advertisements to please the children, and on the shelves there seems to be every­ thing, all of it most attractively packed and displayed. You just help yourself as you walk (pushing a wire basket on wheels that is provided to hold the goods you want to buy). What impresses you is the enormous quantities of everything; thus one huge block of shelves will contain nothing but breakfast food, another, equally huge, will be filled only with canned fruit or soap or beans. From thousands of cans exactly alike a cat's smiling face proclaims the delights of "Kitcat - the food all cats love". Vast refrigerators display joints of beef, legs of lamb, packages of pink and white bacon, Maryland chickens or pork pies; you can buy twenty different kinds of bread, fifty different kinds of soap. At the exits polite assistants ("Fred" or "Hank" or "Shirley" - their names are on their white coats) will take the goods you have chosen from your wheel-basket, add up the cost, pack them into a box and take your money in payment for the goods. Then "Joe" or "Mike" will carry the box to your car.

* * *

18th March.

A young man I know here called Bud is at Harvard and he took me round his University. It is a wonderful place; the rooms were magnificent, beautifully lighted, sound-proofed and air-conditioned. The furniture, the carpets, the curtains might have been in a first-class hotel. There are splendid libraries and the laboratories are some of the most up-to-date and best equipped in the world. And yet - I know you'll hardly believe it of me, but it's true - I thought longingly of the beauty of those colleges at Oxford and Cambridge with their old, weather-worn stone, their oak-panelled rooms with their long bare dining-table, and above all with their lovely gardens and lawns: they don't seem to be able to grow lawns in American Colleges!

* * *

20th March. Yesterday afternoon Bud took me to a football match be­ tween Harvard and Yale. I didn't understand the game at all; it

wasn't like the rugby that I had seen in France or that soccer match in England when I watched Jan play. To tell you the truth it was more like a battle than a game. But I loved the rest of the proceedings. The ground was packed with spectators -chiefly students, who yelled and shouted in chorus. There were "cheer-leaders" for Harvard and cheer-leaders for Yale. There were two bands, dozens of "drum-majors" and "drum-majorettes" - pretty girls, dressed in very short skirts, knee­ high red leather boots and military-looking white jackets decorated with gold and red - who marched to a military band and danced

and led the cheering. I have never seen any- DRUM- thing like it before, but it seems to be the MAJOREITES usual thing at football matches here.

that's

M r. P r i e s t 1e y: Well,

* * * the end of Lucille's Journal

up to date, but this short letter came with it:

Dear Mr. Priestley,

3rd April.

Next week I'm going to Washington, the capital of the U.S.A. I believe it is a lovely city, and friends here tell me I shall be seeing it just at the right time when all the trees that run along­ side the lake will be in full bloom making a sea of pink blos­ som, a wonderful background for the magnificent monument that the Americans have put up to their greatest sons, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and greatest of them all - Ab­ raham Lincoln.

A friend says that he will get me an invitation to the White House, the home of the President. I hear, too, that there are some very gay night-clubs in Washington, so my visit won't be all "history". By the way, do you know why the White House is white? The story I was told is that in 1812 when England was at war with America (a fact which few Englishmen seem to know), the British captured the city, and some of the buildings, including the Capitol and the house of the President, were set on fire. In 1814, in order to hide the marks of the fire, the brown stone walls of the

President's home were painted white - and it has been the "White House" ever since.

All good wishes, Yours sincerely, LUCILLE.

H o b: When my Uncle Albert was in America, an Ameri­ can said to him, "Did you know that the English burned Wa­ shington in 1812?" Uncle Albert said, "Well, I knew we'd burned Joan of Arc, but I didn't know we'd burned him".

THE NON-FINITES (6): GERUND OR INFINITIVE

(He.au'tHbte tjJopMbt (6): zepyniJuu ll.llU untjJunumuB)

Verbs followed by the Infinitive or the Gerund

Some of these are: begin, hate, learn, like, prefer, stop, for­ get, remember, hear, see, e.g.

The teacher said, "You can begin writing now", and the children began to write.

Hob hates working at grammar. Hob: "I hate to work at anything!"

At school children learn reading and writing. He is learning to fly an aeroplane.

I heard him coming in late last night.

I heard him come in late last night. (Infinitive without to.)

I saw him work/working in the garden yesterday.

In the examples just given it doesn't make much difference in meaning whether the gerund or the infinitive is used, but with the verbs stop, forget, remember there is a difference. Thus:

Stop

"He worked for three hours and then stopped for half an hour to eat his lunch" means that he ceased work in order to eat. BUT:

"He stopped eating while he spoke to me" means that he paused in his eating while he spoke.

Forget

The verb forget with the infinitive means "fail to remem- ber", e.g.

I am afraid that he will forget to write.

With the gerund it means "lose the memory of ', e.g.

I shall never forget seeing the Swiss Alps for the first time.

Remember

The infinitive used with remember refers to a future action, e.g.

Please remember to post this letter before four o'clock. The gerund used with remember refers to past action,

I remember seeing you at the Christmas party last year, e.g.

Y nP A >K HE HHSI

I. CJioBapmrn pa6oTa.IlpH,11,yMailTe npeMO.)KeHHR co CJIOBaMu:

earnestly, luxury (use also luxurious. How does this differ from luxuriant!), muscle (pronunciafion ['mAsl]. Compare with mussel in Book II), lean (two meanings. Here as an adjective. Give its opposite. It can also be a verb), affection (use also affectionate, a.ffecfionately), cafeteria, screen (noun and, with different meaning, verb. Where would you find a wind-screen?), box-office, torch, soundless (give six other adjectives expres­ sing "without" by the ending-less), instrument, loudspeaker, dumb, interval, message, adopt, hut, smart (two meanings), danger - anger (only one letter different, but note difference in pronunciation), wrecked, tiny, spray, drug, stationery (com­ pare with stationery), braces (to the American "suspenders"), automatic, supermarket, huge, vast sound-proof (use also wa­ ter-proof; bullet-proof, fool-proof), equipped (use also equipment), weather-worn, yell, monument.

II. Ilepelf:Jpa3Hpyifre CJie)JJ'IOmHe npeMO.)KeHHJI H3 TeKCTa, KOTOpblH BL1 TOJihKO qTo npoqnTaJin:

1. You'd be well advised. 2. there's nothing like... 3. he doesn't believe in... 4. cash a cheque. 5.... people made their way. 6. soft drinks. 7. to park a car. 8. a bath or a shower.

9. I couldn't help. 10.... proclaims the delights of Kitcat. 11. the rooms are sound-proofed and air-conditioned. 12. I thought longingly. 13. knee-high boots. 14. trees run alongside the lake.

15. by the way.

III. CocTaBbTe Bonpocb1,OTBeTbIK KOTOpb M Moryr co.11;ep.)KaTbCJ1 3.11;ecb. Ilpu pa6oTe UOJih3yilTeCh TeKCTOM 3T0f0 ypoKa.

1. I met them in the New York. 2. It was about ten miles out of the city. 3. By taking the loudspeaker into the car and switching it on. 4. Ice-cream, sandwiches, coffee and so on.

5. They are plain, but clean and pleasant and comfortable. 6. It said: "Earth has not anything to show more fair". 7. Some cover 40,000 square feet. 8. Nearly 50%. 9. in a wire basket.

10. they carry the box to your car. 11. at Harvard we went round the University. 12. She is going to Washington.

IV. BaM BCTPeqaJinCh TaKHe npeMO.)KeHHR:

I couldn't help noticing safety signs (gerund).

He doesn't believe in walking...(gerund).

We invite you to inspect (infinitive).

Their business is to sell stationery, candy (infinitive).

B cJie)zylODJ,HX nperoio:>KeHHBX ynoTpe6uTe npaBHJihuyIO <l>OPMY (repyu­ ii HJIH HH<i>HHHTHB):

1. I don't want (buy) a new car without (get) good advice.

2. Lucille remembers (visit) a drive-in cinema and hopes (stay) at a motel.

3. By (take) the loudspeaker into the car we were able (hear) the actors (speak).

4. You liked (meet) Henry; would you like (meet) his brother?

5. There was a refreshment room for (sell) sandwiches and ice-cream for anyone who wanted (buy) them.

6. As we were driving along we saw a good restaurant, so we stopped (have) dinner, and my friend stopped (say) he was hungry.

7. I enjoyed (see) the film in the open air.

8. It's no use (try) to find a place (park) your car in this street.

9. I tried to make him (understand) it was no good (get) angry.

10. I used (drive) on the left in England, but I soon got used to (drive) on the right in America.

11. Lucille didn't feel like (go) to the cinema last night and refused (go) with me, so I didn't try (make) her change her mind.

12. I should like (go) to America because I like (see) new places.

V. YnoTpe6uTe OrotY H3 ueJiuquhlx <l>opM: repii HJIH uu<t>uuuTnB:

1. I wish you would not keep (ask) silly questions.

2. I don't think we will refuse (help) you.

3. The motorist tried to avoid (run) over the dog.

4. I don't remember (meet) you.

5. I hope Hob will remember (bring) his book.

6. You can't afford (waste) your time.

7. Don't forget (pay) for the papers.

8. We always enjoy (come) to your house.

9. I never mind (see) a good film twice.

10. He stopped (write) while he had a cup of tea.

11. After writing for two hours he stopped (have) a cup of tea.

12. I can't help (feel) sorry for animals in a circus.

13. He went on (talk) until everyone was bored.

14. I prefer (travel) by air to (travel) by sea.

15. I would rather (travel) by air than (travel) by sea.

Composition Exercises

1. Discuss the advantages and the disadvantages of the drive-in cinema compared with the indoor cinema.

2. Imagine you are walking along a street of shops (in whatever town or city you like) and describe in as lively a way as you can, what you see in them.

3. What is each of the following thinking? (a) Hank, (b) Bud, (c) Lucille.

 

HANK LUCILLE BUD

LESSON 27