месте старых деревянных домиков, темных от копоти и дыма. Над многочисленными
стройками (building sites) столицы возвышаются огромные подъемные краны (cranes). 3.
Метро — самый удобный вид городского транспорта. Сотни тысяч москвичей и приезжих
ежедневно поднимаются и спускаются по его эскалаторам, восхищаются архитектурой и
отделкой (decoration) чудесных подземных дворцов. 4. Памятник А. С. Пушкину,
установленный на Страстной (ныне Пушкинской) площади, — один из самых любимых
памятников жителей столицы. У его подножия вы всегда увидите букеты живых цветов,
которые приносят сюда москвичи, чтобы почтить память любимого поэта.
XV. Act out a dialogue between a Muscovite and a Londoner on his first visit to
Moscow. Imagine that you are standing in the middle of Red Square. Your companion
asks you about everything be sees, gives his opinion about this and that and says
what buildings, monuments, etc. remind him of London. Use the prompts of Ex. VII.
p. 111.
XVI. a) Get ready to read the text aloud, b) Write a translation of the text:
Morning City
This was one of those mornings when the smoke and the Thames Valley mist decide to work
a few miracles for their London, and especially for the oldest part of it, the City. The City, on these
mornings, is an enchantment. There is a faintly luminous haze, now silver, now old gold, over
everything. The buildings have shape and solidity but no weight; they hang in the air, like palaces
out of the Arabian Nights; you could topple the dome off St. Paul's with a forefinger, push back the
Mansion House, send the Monument floating into space. On these mornings, the old churches cannot
be counted; there are more of them than ever. There is no less traffic than usual; the scarlet stream of
buses still flows through the ancient narrow streets; the pavements are still thronged with bank
messengers, office boys, policemen, clerks, typists, commissionaires, directors, secretaries, crooks,
busy-bodies, idlers; but on these mornings all the buses, taxicabs, vans, lorries and all the pedestrians
lose something of their ordinary solidity; they move behind gauze; they are tyred in velvet; their
voices are muted; their movement is in slow motion. Whatever is new and vulgar and foolish
contrives to lose itself in the denser patches of mist. But all the glimpses of ancient loveliness are
there, perfectly framed and lighted: round every corner somebody is whispering a line or two of