Reading Comprehension

What did Albrecht do to pay homage to Albert?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question:

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
        After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
        They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
        When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 
        All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, No ...no ...no ...no.
        Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved and then holding  his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 
        More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
        One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply Hands, but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love The Praying Hands.

      The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

What is the moral of this story?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question:

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
        After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
        They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
        When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 
        All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, No ...no ...no ...no.
        Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved and then holding  his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 
        More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
        One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply Hands, but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love The Praying Hands.

      The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

Where are Albrecht's masterpiece paintings hanging?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question:

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
        After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
        They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
        When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 
        All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, No ...no ...no ...no.
        Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved and then holding  his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 
        More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
        One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply Hands, but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love The Praying Hands.

      The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

What is the meaning of household?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question:

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
        After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
        They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
        When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 
        All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, No ...no ...no ...no.
        Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved and then holding  his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 
        More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
        One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply Hands, but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love The Praying Hands.

      The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

What is the meaning of chore?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question:

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
        After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
        They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
        When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 
        All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, No ...no ...no ...no.
        Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved and then holding  his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 
        More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
        One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply Hands, but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love The Praying Hands.

      The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

What happened to Albert's fingers while he was working in the mines?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question:

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
        After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
        They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
        When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 
        All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, No ...no ...no ...no.
        Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved and then holding  his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 
        More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
        One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply Hands, but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love The Praying Hands.

      The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

What did the entire world do to this painting?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question:

Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story is appreciated, whether true or not.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
        After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
        They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
        When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 
        All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, No ...no ...no ...no.
        Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved and then holding  his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." 
        More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
        One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply Hands, but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love The Praying Hands.

      The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

What is the meaning of monde?

Directions: Read the passage and answer the following question

Jacques De Randal, having dined at home alone, told his valet he might go, and then sat
down at a table to write his letters.
        He finished out every year by writing and dreaming, making for himself a sort of review of things that had happened since last New Year’s Day, things that were now all over and dead: and, in proportion as the faces of his friends rose up before his eyes, he wrote them a few lines, a cordial ”Good morning” on the first of January.
       So he sat down, opened a drawer, took out of it a woman’s photograph, gazed at it a few moments, and kissed it. Then, having laid it beside a sheet of notepaper, he began:
  “My Dear Irene:
  You must have by this time the little souvenir, which I sent you. I have shut myself up this evening in order to tell you –”
The pen here ceased to move. Jacques rose up and began walking up and down the room.
      For the last six months, he had a mistress, not a mistress like the others, a woman with whom engages in a passing intrigue, of the theatrical world or the demi-monde, but a woman whom he loved and won. He was no longer a young man, although still comparatively young, and he looked on life seriously in a positive and practical spirit.
      Accordingly, he drew up the balance sheet of his passion, as he drew up every year the balance sheet of friendships that were ended or freshly contracted, of circumstances and persons that had entered his life. His first ardor of love having grown calmer, he asked himself, with the precision of a merchant making a calculation, what was the state of his heart with regard to her, and tried to form an idea of what it would be in the future. He found there a great and deep affection, made up of tenderness, gratitude, and the thousand subtleties, which gave birth to long and powerful attachments.
       A ring of the bell made him start. He hesitated. Should he open? But he deemed it was his duty to open, on this New Year’s night, to the Unknown who knocks while passing, no matter whom it may be.
    So he took a wax-candle, passed through the ante-chamber, removed the bolts, turned the key, drew the door back, and saw his mistress standing pale as a corpse leaning against the wall.
      He stammered: “What is the matter with you?”
      She replied: “Are you alone?”
      “Yes.”
       “Without servants?”
       “Yes.”
       “You are not going out?”
       “No.”
       She entered with the air of a woman who knew the house. As soon as she was in the drawing room, she sank into the sofa, and, covering her face with her hands, began to weep dreadfully.
       He kneeled down at her feet, seized hold of her hands to remove them from her eyes, so that he might look at them, and exclaimed

“Irene, Irene, what is the matter with you? I implore of you to tell me what is the matter with you?”
          Then in the midst of her sobs she murmured:  “I can no longer live like this.”
         He did not understand.
         “Like this? What do you mean?”
          “Yes. I can no longer live like this. I have endured so much. He struck me this afternoon.”
          “Who – your husband?”
          “Yes – my husband?”
          “Ha!”
        He was astonished, having never suspected that her husband could be brutal. He was a man of the world, of the better class, a clubman, a lover of horses, a theater-goer and an expert swordsman; he was known, talked about, appreciated everywhere, having an absence of education and of the real culture needed in order to think like all well-bred people, and finally a respect for all conventional prejudices.
       He appeared to devote himself to his wife, as a man ought to do in the case of wealthy and well-bred people. He displayed enough anxiety about her wishes, her health, her dresses, and, beyond that, left perfectly free.
       Randal, having become Irene’s friend, had a right to the affectionate handclasp which every husband endowed with good manners owes to his wife’s intimate acquaintances.Then, when Jacques, after having been for some time the friend, became the lover, his relations with the husband were even more cordial.
       Jacques had never dreamed that there were storms in this household, and he was scared at this unexpected revelation.
        He asked.
        “How did it happen?Tell me.”

Which of the following would make the most logical final sentence for the essay?

Direction for questions 1 to 6: The following passage is an early draft of an essay. Some parts of the passage need to be rewritten. Read the passage and select the best answers for the questions that follow. Some questions are about particular sentences or parts of sentences and ask you to improve sentence structure or word choice. Other questions ask you to consider organization and development. In choosing answers, follow the requirements of standard written English.

Passage – I
(1) Last summer, I wrote an essay for a Freshman Composition course on the subject of race relations. (2) It was called "A Single-Hued World: Laughable or Logical?", the paper explored the effects of a world where people could not visually distinguish race.
(3)The constantly reoccurring issue of race is one I'm familiar with. (4) I'm biracial and I love it, but I detest standardized forms that demand I label myself as one race. (5) I don't see my ethnicity as "check only one," and I don't feel this is an option.
(6) I do think about race, though, and I feel very strongly that race relations will naturally improve with time, as a two-stage process occurs. (7) First, ethnic differences should continue to be celebrated, as they are currently in California. (8) Cultural holidays, festivals, and trends will gain popularity across nationalities, and races historically degraded will gain the pride necessary to attain cultural confidence. (9) Mexican, Black, Asian Pride will grow greatly, and people will appreciate contrasts between them.
(10) The passing time would lead to equality of races, which will become an obvious state and it will diminish then. (11) In time, equality of races will become an obvious state, and the importance of race will diminish. (12) If people don't have to fight for their value as people, their insecurities will vanish. So in time, I believe racial differences will evolve into a triviality, something easily ignored.

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Which of the following most effectively revises the underlined portions of sentences 11 and 12 (reproduced below) in order to combine the sentences? "I know I can do it," I keep encouraging my self. My mind generates zero ideas for my essay: which is due six hours from now.

Direction for questions 7 to 12: The following passage is an early draft of an essay. Some parts of the passage need to be rewritten. Read the passage and select the best answers for the questions that follow. Some questions are about particular sentences or parts of sentences and ask you to improve sentence structure or word choice. Other questions ask you to consider organization and development. In choosing answers, follow the requirements of standard written English.

Passage – II
(1) In life people have to make choices, in my life I have had to make many, many choices.  (2)  I think that my biggest decision or choice would be my application and move to college. (3) This would be considered the biggest decision I would have to make in my life so far.
(4) When your senior year in high school rolls around, most people have to start thinking about what they want to do with their lives in the next four years, and what will happen after these four years are done.
(5) This was a time in my life when I had to make a choice about what I was going to do. (6)  I knew that I wanted to do something that involved the technology of computers and I thought I wanted to be an engineer. (7) Well that was a choice I made, and it was not exactly a choice I thought about adequately. (8) Engineering just wasn't what I was meant to do.
(9) Computer engineering (the major that I choose first semester) was a lot more than I expected. (10)  I ended up failing Physics, Calculus and Chemistry!  (11)  In addition to that, I was subject to separation from < > college. (12) Well, now a decision really had to be made; a choice had to be made.
(13)  My parents told me to think about other colleges and to think about other things to do instead of college, but I knew that <  > was right for me. (14)  They often suggested that I go to community college for a semester or two and make sure that I was doing something that I wanted to do. (15) I had attended the community college in my area during my last year in high school to take some extra courses, and I truly detested the place.  (16)I really did not want to go anywhere but <  >.
(17)   So I petitioned for readmission to a new department at<  >. (18)  I decided that I should focus my studies on something other than engineering, because it was much more than I had expected, and it was flat out, too hard for me.
(19)  Eventually I was allowed back, and as of right now I am on academic warning.  (20)  This is a result of my low GPA from last semester. (21)  I know this time around I will do better.  (22)  As I really messed up the last semester due to my choice of classes that made me skate on thin ice. (23) My CHOICE to come back and give this my all, and to do well, is the right CHOICE for me. (24)  <  > is the right place for me.
(25)  People sometimes underestimate the power of choice in their lives. (26)  They don't realize the impact that it can have. (27)  Obviously I didn't realize it earlier this year. 

All of the following strategies are used by the writer of the passage EXCEPT:

Direction for questions 13 to 18: The following passage is an early draft of an essay. Some parts of the passage need to be rewritten. Read the passage and select the best answers for the questions that follow. Some questions are about particular sentences or parts of sentences and ask you to improve sentence structure or word choice. Other questions ask you to consider organization and development. In choosing answers, follow the requirements of standard written English.

Passage – III
(1) I believe my love and fascination with travel is somewhat hereditary. (2) I got interested in traveling to far away places from looking at albums of my father’s many travels. (3) I recall with great fondness many afternoons pouring over the big, bulky albums, labeled on the side - "Greece," "Italy," "France," "Israel," and others. (4) It was with curious awe that I saw my father pictured in exotic locales wondering what rich stories should be accompanying these snapshots of cherished memories.
(5) Of course, my dad would regale us at the dinner table with many a story, as we listened and absorbed his enthusiasm from the retelling of his adventures. (6) Then, we traveled a bit as a family, to Israel, then Belgium and the Netherlands, and then an awe inspiring summer in China.
(7) As I got older, my interest in travel continued, as read books on a variety of topics from world religions to international affairs. (8) Setting my first taste for another culture as a teenager, I spent a summer abroad.
(9) During high school, I took advantage of the study abroad program and spent a semester in Sydney, Australia. (10) The more I traveled, the more I wanted to travel and the more I wanted to share my experiences with others. (11) Trips to Italy, France, and England as a child further enriched my passion for learning about visiting other countries and learning about their cultures.
(12) It culminated in a three month trip around the world, visiting ten countries from Africa, to Southeast Asia and then through Australia and New Zealand. (13) This trip was a life altering, life affirming adventure that influenced my worldview and philosophy on life.

In context, which is the best way to revise and combine sentences 1 and 2 (reproduced below)? Anyone who has talked to me about leadership has mentioned that you are not a leader. Someone should always follow you.

Direction for questions 1 to 6: The following passage is an early draft of an essay. Some parts of the passage need to be rewritten. Read the passage and select the best answers for the questions that follow. Some questions are about particular sentences or parts of sentences and ask you to improve sentence structure or word choice. Other questions ask you to consider organization and development. In choosing answers, follow the requirements of standard written English.

Passage – I
(1) Last summer, I wrote an essay for a Freshman Composition course on the subject of race relations. (2) It was called "A Single-Hued World: Laughable or Logical?", the paper explored the effects of a world where people could not visually distinguish race.
(3)The constantly reoccurring issue of race is one I'm familiar with. (4) I'm biracial and I love it, but I detest standardized forms that demand I label myself as one race. (5) I don't see my ethnicity as "check only one," and I don't feel this is an option.
(6) I do think about race, though, and I feel very strongly that race relations will naturally improve with time, as a two-stage process occurs. (7) First, ethnic differences should continue to be celebrated, as they are currently in California. (8) Cultural holidays, festivals, and trends will gain popularity across nationalities, and races historically degraded will gain the pride necessary to attain cultural confidence. (9) Mexican, Black, Asian Pride will grow greatly, and people will appreciate contrasts between them.
(10) The passing time would lead to equality of races, which will become an obvious state and it will diminish then. (11) In time, equality of races will become an obvious state, and the importance of race will diminish. (12) If people don't have to fight for their value as people, their insecurities will vanish. So in time, I believe racial differences will evolve into a triviality, something easily ignored.

�

In context, which of the following is the best version of the underlined portion of sentence 14 (reproduced below)? To admire the transferring for a moving melody/paragraph/theory to the soiled ego that created it is foolhardy and illogical.

Direction for questions 13 to 18: The following passage is an early draft of an essay. Some parts of the passage need to be rewritten. Read the passage and select the best answers for the questions that follow. Some questions are about particular sentences or parts of sentences and ask you to improve sentence structure or word choice. Other questions ask you to consider organization and development. In choosing answers, follow the requirements of standard written English.

Passage – III
(1) I believe my love and fascination with travel is somewhat hereditary. (2) I got interested in traveling to far away places from looking at albums of my father’s many travels. (3) I recall with great fondness many afternoons pouring over the big, bulky albums, labeled on the side - "Greece," "Italy," "France," "Israel," and others. (4) It was with curious awe that I saw my father pictured in exotic locales wondering what rich stories should be accompanying these snapshots of cherished memories.
(5) Of course, my dad would regale us at the dinner table with many a story, as we listened and absorbed his enthusiasm from the retelling of his adventures. (6) Then, we traveled a bit as a family, to Israel, then Belgium and the Netherlands, and then an awe inspiring summer in China.
(7) As I got older, my interest in travel continued, as read books on a variety of topics from world religions to international affairs. (8) Setting my first taste for another culture as a teenager, I spent a summer abroad.
(9) During high school, I took advantage of the study abroad program and spent a semester in Sydney, Australia. (10) The more I traveled, the more I wanted to travel and the more I wanted to share my experiences with others. (11) Trips to Italy, France, and England as a child further enriched my passion for learning about visiting other countries and learning about their cultures.
(12) It culminated in a three month trip around the world, visiting ten countries from Africa, to Southeast Asia and then through Australia and New Zealand. (13) This trip was a life altering, life affirming adventure that influenced my worldview and philosophy on life.

Which of the following is the best way to revise and combine sentences 8 and 9 (reproduced below)? Nowdays slavery is restricted to jobs in more remote locations for obvious reasons so you wouldn’t find slaves working for or around the city. One will find the slaves working in and around the households in the country.

Direction for questions 19 to 24: The following passage is an early draft of an essay. Some parts of the passage need to be rewritten. Read the passage and select the best answers for the questions that follow. Some questions are about particular sentences or parts of sentences and ask you to improve sentence structure or word choice. Other questions ask you to consider organization and development. In choosing answers, follow the requirements of standard written English.

Passage – IV
(1) Pearl Buck's style in The Good Earth has been compared to old Chinese novels. (2) Actually, it is a simple, direct narrative style. (3) There are no complicated techniques such as cut-back or stream of consciousness. (4) The narrative moves along smoothly towards its conclusion. (5) There are no complicated subplots or subthemes. (6) Wang Lung is the central character; the actions of all the other characters relate directly to him. (7) No one in the story performs any action which is independent of the main action.  (8) Buck wrote The Good Earth at great speed, finishing it in there months.
(9)  Perhaps the greatest strength of the style of Pearl Buck in The Good Earth is the manner in which her characters perform. (10) No matter what any one of them does, it is always in keeping with his personality. (11)  Nevertheless, none of them can be described as stereotypes; their motivations are too complex. (12)  In O-lan, the reader sees a person who is fundamentally good. (13)  Yet she does some seemingly wicked things. (14)  She steals the jewels from the rich man's house.  (15) Worse than this, she kills her own child. (16)  But both of these actions are consistent with her character indicating the context of the situations involved.
(17)  Much has been written about Pearl Buck's style of writing in The Good Earth. (18) One critic calls it "almost Biblical," while others compare it to ancient folk epics. (19)  Another critic describes it as a blend of the King James Version of the Bible and a traditional Chinese epic.
(20) A writer's style can't always be traced to the influences of his or her childhood reading. (21) The two influences exist in Pearl Buck’s case. (22)   As the daughter of Presbyterian missionaries, Buck was brought up on the Bible. (23)  And although she read widely in English literature, she also read Chinese novels.

Of the following, which is the best way to write the underlined portions of sentences 16 and 17 (reproduced below)? In ancient times war was a popular place for capturing people to be sold into slavery; this gave the army a lot of its money and power. So what is implied by me is that Romans captured merciless people and sent them back to their country.

Direction for questions 19 to 24: The following passage is an early draft of an essay. Some parts of the passage need to be rewritten. Read the passage and select the best answers for the questions that follow. Some questions are about particular sentences or parts of sentences and ask you to improve sentence structure or word choice. Other questions ask you to consider organization and development. In choosing answers, follow the requirements of standard written English.

Passage – IV
(1) Pearl Buck's style in The Good Earth has been compared to old Chinese novels. (2) Actually, it is a simple, direct narrative style. (3) There are no complicated techniques such as cut-back or stream of consciousness. (4) The narrative moves along smoothly towards its conclusion. (5) There are no complicated subplots or subthemes. (6) Wang Lung is the central character; the actions of all the other characters relate directly to him. (7) No one in the story performs any action which is independent of the main action.  (8) Buck wrote The Good Earth at great speed, finishing it in there months.
(9)  Perhaps the greatest strength of the style of Pearl Buck in The Good Earth is the manner in which her characters perform. (10) No matter what any one of them does, it is always in keeping with his personality. (11)  Nevertheless, none of them can be described as stereotypes; their motivations are too complex. (12)  In O-lan, the reader sees a person who is fundamentally good. (13)  Yet she does some seemingly wicked things. (14)  She steals the jewels from the rich man's house.  (15) Worse than this, she kills her own child. (16)  But both of these actions are consistent with her character indicating the context of the situations involved.
(17)  Much has been written about Pearl Buck's style of writing in The Good Earth. (18) One critic calls it "almost Biblical," while others compare it to ancient folk epics. (19)  Another critic describes it as a blend of the King James Version of the Bible and a traditional Chinese epic.
(20) A writer's style can't always be traced to the influences of his or her childhood reading. (21) The two influences exist in Pearl Buck’s case. (22)   As the daughter of Presbyterian missionaries, Buck was brought up on the Bible. (23)  And although she read widely in English literature, she also read Chinese novels.