Learn English Before You Go
AT this season, when 49,217 Americans are on the point of sailing for the annual summer tour of England, it may not be ungracious to suggest to them the urgency of a preliminary study of the foreign language spoken over there. Confusion may often be avoided if a traveler knows the language of the country through which he is passing. The American language, to be sure, is partially understood in England, but the wise tourist, aware that this understanding is not universal, will take the precaution of learning at least a few words of the English vocabulary before he ventures into the unknown.
He will then never make the amusing blunder of asking to be directed to a drug store; he will inquire for a chemist’s shop. If he is lost, he will look, not for a ‘cop,’ but for a ‘bobby,’ and will find him, not on the pavement, but in the road. When found, he will never tell you how many blocks it is to your destination. Rather, he will say: ‘First turnin’ right, second turnin’ left, then strite ahead.’ If the tourist drives an auto, — more properly called a motor, — he will have difficulty obtaining gasoline; but petrol is available.
A store, one should know, is merely a repository where property is stored, and should not be confused with a shop, which is a mercantile establishment for selling goods. There are no department stores, but there are general or multiple shops. In the ironmongery department one can purchase what Americans ignorantly call hardware; in the turnery department one looks for kitchen furniture. A shop or factory never caters to a special clientele, but may cater for it; one institution is never affiliated with another, but may be affiliated to it. A tenant is not the occupant, but the occupier of the building, and he does not rent his quarters — he hires them, or they are let to him. In all of London there are no fourstory buildings, but there are a few eightstorey buildings. These do not have elevators, but their lifts serve the same purpose. The ground floor, by the way, is not the first floor; that is one stage higher. How strange that we Americans, with our extensive public-school system, should be the only people unable to count floors correctly!
Lacking street cars, the Londoner may take a tram. Or he may ride in the underground or tube, but obviously not in the subway, which is merely a passage for pedestrians under the street. There are no railroads in England, and the railway trains do not have engineers, brakemen, or conductors. They have engine drivers, of course, and guards to see that the numerous doors are closed before starting, and sometimes a ticket taker. There is no baggage car, but the luggage van suffices. In lieu of a check room or parcel room in the station, there is a left-luggage room. The attendant in charge is rarely a clerk; a clerk is what Americans call a bookkeeper, and his title rhymes with park. To ship freight, consult the goods office of the railway, or engage a motor lorry in place of a truck.
Since there are faster trains in Britain than here, and often longer nonstop runs, one should not be astonished to learn that there are no reduced round-trip rates. There may be, however, a cheap return, or a cheap circular tour if one is to come back by a different route. The tickets grant no stop-over privileges, but they sometimes permit you to break the journey. Tickets for a journey, a play, or an athletic contest are usually not purchased; they are booked at a booking office. One can also book hotel accommodations. An inn or hotel may not charge you for your room, but you will have to pay for bed, bath, and breakfast. The running water is not drawn from faucets, but from taps. A bellhop will never bring you a pitcher of ice water, but a page can usually fetch a jug of iced water.
In restaurants and tea rooms, desserts are often missing from the menus, being replaced by a list of sweets. Even cream may hide in that list. The true name of our American corn, one will learn, is maize (with a silent), and our wheat is corn.
In England it is better to post one’s letters than to mail them. In fact, there are no mail boxes from which mail is collected. The lack of them is not a serious inconvenience since there are numerous letter boxes, which are cleared frequently. Envelopes are rarely sealed — that requires wax; instead, the flap is simply stuck down. The orthography of English names is a real problem for Americans: Lester should be given its correct spelling of Leicester; Beauchamp should not be garbled into Beecham; nor should the Ministry of Labour be dishonored by omitting the u.
To the American, English slang is a language almost as foreign as correct English. To tick you off is to put you wise. To catch him up is to catch up with him. To queer his pitch is to upset his plans. To get told off is to receive advance information. To get one in a hat is to place him in an embarrassing situation. The frequent exclamations, ‘Really!’ and ‘Quite!’ are good English, signifying ‘You don’t say so!’ and ‘Just so!’ On no account should they be rendered as ‘Oh, yeah?’ and ‘Okeh, kid!’
The quaint incomprehensibility of the American mind an inexhaustible puzzle to Britons— has been portrayed by Mr. Kipling; his explanation by means of the fourth dimension, be it remembered, antedated by some years Herr Einstein’s introduction of that concept into theoretical mechanics. Imagine the bewilderment of our British cousins when we couple with our unpredictable behavior the strange syllables of an alien tongue. To be sure, the Englishman’s sporting blood rises to the occasion, and he strives gallantly to guess at our meaning and make us feel at home. As well-mannered guests, it behooves us to spare him as much trouble as we can by learning a little English before going over.
FRANK LOXLEY GRIFFIN