Revising Content - ACT English

Coupons

Are you trying to stick to a budget? Using coupons for \[61\] purchases, also known as “couponing” is a great way to save money on groceries. \[62\] Coupons are a little piece of paper that can give you a discount on what you buy. You will be amazed at the \[63\] great bargains and amazing savings you can get!

It’s easy to get started. \[64\] When you open up your daily newspaper, one might find a glossy insert full of coupons. \[65\] Some of the coupons will be for things you don’t buy, some will be for things you buy all the time. Go through the coupons and \[66\] chop out the ones you can use.

The key to successful couponing is getting multiple copies of coupon circulars. Ask \[67\] your friends, your neighbors, and family if they have any extras. Some coupon users even go through the recycling at their office to find more coupons! \[68\] Completely devoted, these circulars help coupon users to get even more savings.

Couponing might sound like hard work, but for \[69\] many people, it’s also a hobby. Not only does it help them save hundreds of dollars per year, \[70\] but instead it gives them a fun challenge every time they do their shopping.

Is there perhaps a greater value to a life lived without constant counting, penny-pinching, and miserliness? \[71\] But of what value are such savings? \[72\] At the end of the day; money is a construct, invented by the elite for the sole purpose of controlling the populace. \[73\] If we accept this fundamental truth, it behooves one to question the monetary structures that control our lives. Indeed, from this perspective, the very practice of couponing might seem a venial distraction from the valuable human endeavor of personal philosophical consideration. \[74\]

The papers we pore over should be in our books; the pennies we save should be in the currency of our happiness; \[75\] the budget we have made should have been a budget of our contentment.

A sort of couponing of the soul might ultimately be the solution.

Choose the answer that best corrects section \[66\].

Adapted from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (1890)

As they entered, they saw Dorian Gray who was seated at the piano his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann's "Forest Scenes." "You must lend me these, Basil," he cried. "I want to learn them. They are perfectly charming." "That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian."

"Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I don't want a life-sized portrait of myself," answered the lad, swinging round on the music-stool in a willful, petulant manner. When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint blush colored his cheeks for a moment, and he started up. "I beg your pardon, Basil. I did’nt know you had any one with you."

"This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. I have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you have spoiled everything."

"You have not spoiled my pleasure in meeting you, Mr. Gray," said Lord Henry, stepping forward and extended his hand. "My aunt has often spoken to me about you. You are one of her favorites, and, I am afraid, one of her victims also."

"I am in Lady Agatha's black books at present," answered Dorian with a funny look of penitence. "I promised to go to a club in Whitechapel with her last Tuesday, and I really forgot all about it. We were to have played a duet together: three duets, I believe. I don't know what she will say to me. I am far too frightened to call."

Which of the following would be a clearer replacement for the underlined word "funny"?

Adapted from The Apology by Plato (trans. Jowett)

This inquisition has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most dangerous kind and has given occasion also to many false statements against me. And I am called wise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I find lacking in others. However, O men of Athens, the truth is that god only is wise. By his answer he intends to show that the wisdom of men is worth little or nothing. He is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using my name by way of illustration. It is as though he said, “He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing.” And so, I go about the world, obedient to the god, searching and making enquiry into the wisdom of any one, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise. If he is not wise, then I show him that he is not wise. My occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my own. Indeed I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god.

There is another thing. Young men of the richer classes, who have not much to do, come about me of their own accord. They like to hear my examinations of others and often imitate me, and then proceed to examine others. They quickly discover that there is plenty of people, who think that they know something but really know little or nothing. Then, those who are examined by them instead of being angry with themselves become angry with me.

“This confounded Socrates,” they say, “this villainous misleader of youth!” And then, if somebody asks them, “What evil does he practice or teach?” they do not know and cannot tell. However, in order that they may not appear to be at a loss, they repeat the ready-made charges which are used against all philosophers: the teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth, having no gods, and making wrong things appear to be right.

They do not like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been detected (which is the truth). And as they are numerous and ambitious and energetic, they have filled your ears with they’re loud and inveterate calumnies.

And this, O men of Athens, is the truth and the whole truth. I have concealed nothing; I have dissembled nothing. And yet, I know that my plainness of speech makes them hate me. Still, what is their hatred but a proof that I am speaking the truth? From this have arisen the crowds’ prejudice against me. This is the reason of it, as you will find out either in this or in any future enquiry.

Which of the following expresses a meaning equivalent to the underlined selection, "He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing"?

Adapted from The Apology by Plato (trans. Jowett)

This inquisition has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most dangerous kind and has given occasion also to many false statements against me. And I am called wise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I find lacking in others. However, O men of Athens, the truth is that god only is wise. By his answer he intends to show that the wisdom of men is worth little or nothing. He is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using my name by way of illustration. It is as though he said, “He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing.” And so, I go about the world, obedient to the god, searching and making enquiry into the wisdom of any one, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise. If he is not wise, then I show him that he is not wise. My occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my own. Indeed I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god.

There is another thing. Young men of the richer classes, who have not much to do, come about me of their own accord. They like to hear my examinations of others and often imitate me, and then proceed to examine others. They quickly discover that there is plenty of people, who think that they know something but really know little or nothing. Then, those who are examined by them instead of being angry with themselves become angry with me.

“This confounded Socrates,” they say, “this villainous misleader of youth!” And then, if somebody asks them, “What evil does he practice or teach?” they do not know and cannot tell. However, in order that they may not appear to be at a loss, they repeat the ready-made charges which are used against all philosophers: the teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth, having no gods, and making wrong things appear to be right.

They do not like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been detected (which is the truth). And as they are numerous and ambitious and energetic, they have filled your ears with they’re loud and inveterate calumnies.

And this, O men of Athens, is the truth and the whole truth. I have concealed nothing; I have dissembled nothing. And yet, I know that my plainness of speech makes them hate me. Still, what is their hatred but a proof that I am speaking the truth? From this have arisen the crowds’ prejudice against me. This is the reason of it, as you will find out either in this or in any future enquiry.

Which of the following is an acceptable replacement for the underlined selection, "by reason of"?

Passage adapted from G. K. Chesterton, "The Wrath of the Roses," in Alarms and Discursions(1910)

The position of the rose among flowers is like that of the dog among animals. It is not so much that both are domesticated as that we have some dim feeling that they were always domesticated. There are wild roses and there are wild dogs. I do not know the wild dogs; wild roses are very nice. But nobody ever thinks of either of them if the name is abruptly mentioned in a conversation or a poem. On the other hand, there are tame tigers and tame cobras, but if one says, "I have a cobra in my pocket," or "There is a tiger in the music-room," the adjective "tame" has to be somewhat hastily added. If one speaks of beasts one thinks first of wild beasts; if of flowers one thinks first of wild flowers.

But there are two great exceptions caught so completely into the wheel of man's civilization, entangled so unalterably with his ancient emotions and images, that the artificial product seems more natural than the natural. The dog is not a part of natural history, but of human history; and the real rose grows in a garden. All must regard the elephant as something tremendous, but tamed; and many, especially in our great cultured cities, regard every bull as presumably a mad bull. In the same way we think of most garden trees and plants as fierce creatures of the forest or morass taught at last to endure the curb.

But with the dog and the rose this instinctive principle is reversed.

What two things does the underlined portion "two great exceptions" refer to?

Which of the following, if any, would NOT be an acceptable substitution for the underlined word?

As the two cars collided into each other, the drivers' airbags deployed with a loud bang.

Choose the word that most closely means "false."

Choose the best definition of "impute."

Adapted from "The Philosophy of Composition" by Edgar Allan Poe (1846)

Charles Dickens in a note now lying before me (1) alluding to an examination I once made of the mechanism of \[the novel\] Barnaby Rudge (2), says (3) "By the way, are you aware that Godwin wrote his 'Caleb Williams' backwards? He first involved his hero in a web of difficulties, forming the second volume, and then, for the first, cast about him for some mode of accounting for what had been done" (4)

I cannot think this the exacting (5) mode of procedure on the part of Godwin — and indeed what he himself acknowledges, is not altogether in accordance with Mr. Dickens idea (6) — but the author of “Caleb Williams” was too good an artist not to perceive the advantage derivative (7) from at least a somewhat similar process. Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement before any thing be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable (8) air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents (9) and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention.

There is a radical error I think (10) in the usual mode of constructing a story. Either history affords a thesis — or one is suggested by an incident of the day — or, at best, the author sets himself to work in the combination of striking events to form merely the basis of his narrative — designing, generally, to fill in with description, dialogue, or autorial (11) comment, whatever crevices of fact, or action, may from page to page (12) render themselves apparent.

Choose from the following four options the answer that best corrects the underlined mistake, using contemporary usage, preceding the question number. If there is no mistake or the original text is the best option, choose "NO CHANGE."

Adapted from "The Philosophy of Composition" by Edgar Allan Poe (1846)

Charles Dickens in a note now lying before me (1) alluding to an examination I once made of the mechanism of \[the novel\] Barnaby Rudge (2), says (3) "By the way, are you aware that Godwin wrote his 'Caleb Williams' backwards? He first involved his hero in a web of difficulties, forming the second volume, and then, for the first, cast about him for some mode of accounting for what had been done" (4)

I cannot think this the exacting (5) mode of procedure on the part of Godwin — and indeed what he himself acknowledges, is not altogether in accordance with Mr. Dickens idea (6) — but the author of “Caleb Williams” was too good an artist not to perceive the advantage derivative (7) from at least a somewhat similar process. Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement before any thing be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable (8) air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents (9) and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention.

There is a radical error I think (10) in the usual mode of constructing a story. Either history affords a thesis — or one is suggested by an incident of the day — or, at best, the author sets himself to work in the combination of striking events to form merely the basis of his narrative — designing, generally, to fill in with description, dialogue, or autorial (11) comment, whatever crevices of fact, or action, may from page to page (12) render themselves apparent.

Choose from the following four options the word choice that best fits the context of the underlined word preceding the question number. If there is no mistake or the original text is the best option, choose "NO CHANGE."

Adapted from "The Philosophy of Composition" by Edgar Allan Poe (1846)

Charles Dickens in a note now lying before me (1) alluding to an examination I once made of the mechanism of \[the novel\] Barnaby Rudge (2), says (3) "By the way, are you aware that Godwin wrote his 'Caleb Williams' backwards? He first involved his hero in a web of difficulties, forming the second volume, and then, for the first, cast about him for some mode of accounting for what had been done" (4)

I cannot think this the exacting (5) mode of procedure on the part of Godwin — and indeed what he himself acknowledges, is not altogether in accordance with Mr. Dickens idea (6) — but the author of “Caleb Williams” was too good an artist not to perceive the advantage derivative (7) from at least a somewhat similar process. Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement before any thing be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable (8) air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents (9) and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention.

There is a radical error I think (10) in the usual mode of constructing a story. Either history affords a thesis — or one is suggested by an incident of the day — or, at best, the author sets himself to work in the combination of striking events to form merely the basis of his narrative — designing, generally, to fill in with description, dialogue, or autorial (11) comment, whatever crevices of fact, or action, may from page to page (12) render themselves apparent.

Choose from the following four options the word choice that best fits the context of the underlined word preceding the question number. If there is no mistake or the original text is the best option, choose "NO CHANGE."

Adapted from "The Philosophy of Composition" by Edgar Allan Poe (1846)

Charles Dickens in a note now lying before me (1) alluding to an examination I once made of the mechanism of \[the novel\] Barnaby Rudge (2), says (3) "By the way, are you aware that Godwin wrote his 'Caleb Williams' backwards? He first involved his hero in a web of difficulties, forming the second volume, and then, for the first, cast about him for some mode of accounting for what had been done" (4)

I cannot think this the exacting (5) mode of procedure on the part of Godwin — and indeed what he himself acknowledges, is not altogether in accordance with Mr. Dickens idea (6) — but the author of “Caleb Williams” was too good an artist not to perceive the advantage derivative (7) from at least a somewhat similar process. Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement before any thing be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable (8) air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents (9) and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention.

There is a radical error I think (10) in the usual mode of constructing a story. Either history affords a thesis — or one is suggested by an incident of the day — or, at best, the author sets himself to work in the combination of striking events to form merely the basis of his narrative — designing, generally, to fill in with description, dialogue, or autorial (11) comment, whatever crevices of fact, or action, may from page to page (12) render themselves apparent.

Choose from the following four options the word choice that best fits the context of the underlined word preceding the question number. If there is no mistake or the original text is the best option, choose "NO CHANGE."

Adapted from "The Philosophy of Composition" by Edgar Allan Poe (1846)

Charles Dickens in a note now lying before me (1) alluding to an examination I once made of the mechanism of \[the novel\] Barnaby Rudge (2), says (3) "By the way, are you aware that Godwin wrote his 'Caleb Williams' backwards? He first involved his hero in a web of difficulties, forming the second volume, and then, for the first, cast about him for some mode of accounting for what had been done" (4)

I cannot think this the exacting (5) mode of procedure on the part of Godwin — and indeed what he himself acknowledges, is not altogether in accordance with Mr. Dickens idea (6) — but the author of “Caleb Williams” was too good an artist not to perceive the advantage derivative (7) from at least a somewhat similar process. Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement before any thing be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable (8) air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents (9) and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention.

There is a radical error I think (10) in the usual mode of constructing a story. Either history affords a thesis — or one is suggested by an incident of the day — or, at best, the author sets himself to work in the combination of striking events to form merely the basis of his narrative — designing, generally, to fill in with description, dialogue, or autorial (11) comment, whatever crevices of fact, or action, may from page to page (12) render themselves apparent.

Choose from the following four options the answer that best corresponds to our contemporary usage of the underlined word preceding the question number. If there is no mistake or the original text is the best option, choose "NO CHANGE."

Adapted from Looking Backward from 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy (1889)

"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect (1) of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any device to advertise wares, or attract custom (2). Nor was there any sort of sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group of statuary (3), the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng (4) passing in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers obtained (5) as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes (6) walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends (7) on the walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, and proceeded to inspect them.

"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, and no one seemed coming to attend (8) to the customer.

"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith (9) "I have not made my selection."

"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their selections in my day," I replied.

"What! To tell people what they wanted?"

"Yes (10) and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want."

"But did not (11) ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, wonderingly (12). "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether people bought or not?"

Choose from the following four options the synonym that would best replace the underlined word preceding the number (1).

Adapted from Looking Backward from 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy (1889)

"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect (1) of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any device to advertise wares, or attract custom (2). Nor was there any sort of sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group of statuary (3), the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng (4) passing in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers obtained (5) as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes (6) walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends (7) on the walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, and proceeded to inspect them.

"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, and no one seemed coming to attend (8) to the customer.

"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith (9) "I have not made my selection."

"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their selections in my day," I replied.

"What! To tell people what they wanted?"

"Yes (10) and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want."

"But did not (11) ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, wonderingly (12). "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether people bought or not?"

Choose from the following four options the synonym that best corresponds to the underlined word preceding the number (2). If there is no mistake or the original text is the best option, choose "NO CHANGE."

Adapted from Looking Backward from 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy (1889)

"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect (1) of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any device to advertise wares, or attract custom (2). Nor was there any sort of sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group of statuary (3), the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng (4) passing in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers obtained (5) as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes (6) walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends (7) on the walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, and proceeded to inspect them.

"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, and no one seemed coming to attend (8) to the customer.

"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith (9) "I have not made my selection."

"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their selections in my day," I replied.

"What! To tell people what they wanted?"

"Yes (10) and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want."

"But did not (11) ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, wonderingly (12). "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether people bought or not?"

Choose from the following four options the synonym that best corresponds to the underlined word preceding the number (3).

Adapted from Looking Backward from 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy (1889)

"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect (1) of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any device to advertise wares, or attract custom (2). Nor was there any sort of sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group of statuary (3), the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng (4) passing in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers obtained (5) as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes (6) walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends (7) on the walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, and proceeded to inspect them.

"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, and no one seemed coming to attend (8) to the customer.

"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith (9) "I have not made my selection."

"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their selections in my day," I replied.

"What! To tell people what they wanted?"

"Yes (10) and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want."

"But did not (11) ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, wonderingly (12). "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether people bought or not?"

Choose from the following four options the synonym that would best replace the underlined word preceding the number (4).

Adapted from Looking Backward from 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy (1889)

"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect (1) of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any device to advertise wares, or attract custom (2). Nor was there any sort of sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group of statuary (3), the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng (4) passing in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers obtained (5) as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes (6) walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends (7) on the walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, and proceeded to inspect them.

"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, and no one seemed coming to attend (8) to the customer.

"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith (9) "I have not made my selection."

"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their selections in my day," I replied.

"What! To tell people what they wanted?"

"Yes (10) and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want."

"But did not (11) ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, wonderingly (12). "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether people bought or not?"

Choose from the following four options the synonym that would best replace the underlined word preceding the number (5).

Adapted from Looking Backward from 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy (1889)

"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect (1) of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any device to advertise wares, or attract custom (2). Nor was there any sort of sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group of statuary (3), the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng (4) passing in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers obtained (5) as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes (6) walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends (7) on the walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, and proceeded to inspect them.

"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, and no one seemed coming to attend (8) to the customer.

"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith (9) "I have not made my selection."

"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their selections in my day," I replied.

"What! To tell people what they wanted?"

"Yes (10) and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want."

"But did not (11) ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, wonderingly (12). "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether people bought or not?"

Choose from the following four options the synonym that would best replace the underlined word preceding the number (7).

Adapted from Looking Backward from 2000 to 1887 by Edward Bellamy (1889)

"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect (1) of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any device to advertise wares, or attract custom (2). Nor was there any sort of sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group of statuary (3), the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng (4) passing in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers obtained (5) as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes (6) walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends (7) on the walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, and proceeded to inspect them.

"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, and no one seemed coming to attend (8) to the customer.

"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith (9) "I have not made my selection."

"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their selections in my day," I replied.

"What! To tell people what they wanted?"

"Yes (10) and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want."

"But did not (11) ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, wonderingly (12). "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether people bought or not?"

Choose from the following four options the answer that best corrects the underlined mistake using contemporary English preceding the number (8). If there is no mistake or the original text is the best option, choose "NO CHANGE."