Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. Which choice best describes what happens in the passage?
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. Which choice best describes the tone and developmental pattern of the passage?
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. Lord Canterville mentions the titles of Augustus Dampier in line 13 in order to emphasize
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. As used in line 30, “suspended” most nearly means
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. The Otises regard the blood stain in the library as
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. As used in line 72, “start” most nearly means
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. The conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Otis in lines 73–80 is notable for its tone of
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. Mr. Otis dismisses the claims that Canterville Chase is haunted because
Question based on the following passage.
The following passage is adapted from Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost, published in 1887.
When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American
Minister, bought Canterville Chase, everyone
told him that the place was haunted. Indeed,
Lord Canterville himself, a man of punctilious
(5) honor, felt it his duty to mention the fact to Mr.
Otis when they came to discuss terms.
“We have not cared to live in the place
ourselves,” said Lord Canterville, “since the
Dowager Duchess of Bolton was frightened into
(10) a fit by two skeleton hands on her shoulders as
she was dressing for dinner. The ghost has been
seen by several members of my family, as well as
by the Rev. Augustus Dampier, a Fellow of King’s
College, Cambridge.”
(15) “My Lord,” answered the Minister, “I will
take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I
come from a modern country, and I reckon that if
there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we’d
have it at home in a very short time in one of our
(20) public museums.”
“I fear that the ghost exists,” said Lord
Canterville, smiling, “though it may have resisted
the overtures of your enterprising impresarios.
It has been well known for three centuries, since
(25) 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance
before the death of any member of our family.”
“Well, so does the family doctor for that
matter, Lord Canterville. But there is no such
thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of
(30) Nature are not going to be suspended for the
British aristocracy.”
After the purchase was concluded, the
Minister and his family went down to Canterville
Chase. Mrs. Otis, who, as Miss Lucretia R. Tappan
(35) had been a celebrated New York belle, was now a
very handsome, middle-aged woman. Her eldest
son, christened Washington by his parents in a
moment of patriotism, was a fair-haired, rather
good-looking young man.
(40) Standing on the steps to receive them was old
Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at
Lady Canterville's earnest request, had consented
to keep on in her former position. Following her
into the library, they found tea laid out for them,
(45) sat down and began to look round.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red
stain on the floor just by the fireplace and said
to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been
spilt there.”
(50) “Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in
a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don't at all
care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be
removed at once.”
(55) The old woman answered in the same low,
mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore
de Canterville, who was murdered on that spot by
her husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575.
His guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The blood-
(60) stain has been much admired by tourists and
others, and cannot be removed.”
“That is all nonsense,” cried Washington;
“Pinkerton's Champion Stain Remover will
clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified
(65) housekeeper could interfere he was rapidly
scouring the floor. In a few moments no trace of
the blood-stain could be seen.
“I knew Pinkerton would do it,” he exclaimed
triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring
(70) family. A terrible flash of lightning lit up the
somber room, a fearful peal of thunder made them
all start to their feet, and Mrs. Umney fainted.
“What a monstrous climate!” said the
American Minister calmly. “I guess the old
(75) country is so overpopulated that they have not
enough decent weather for everybody. I have
always been of opinion that emigration is the
only thing for England.”
“My dear Hiram,” cried Mrs. Otis, “what can
(80) we do with a woman who faints?”
“Charge it to her like breakages,” answered
the Minister; “she won't faint after that;” and in
a few moments Mrs. Umney certainly came to.
There was no doubt, however, that she was upset,
(85) and she sternly warned Mr. Otis to beware of
some trouble coming to the house.
“Many and many a night,” she said, “I have
not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things
that are done here.” Mr. Otis, however, and his
(90) wife warmly assured the honest soul that they
were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking
the blessings of Providence on her new master
and mistress, and making arrangements for an
increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered
(95) off to her own room.
Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. The primary purpose of the first paragraph is to
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. As used in lines 14 and 16, “congestion” refers to a type of
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. Which situation best illustrates “Say’s Law of Markets” (lines 10–14)?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. The author recognizes a potential objection to the position he takes in the passage by
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. The author discusses the Indiana Toll Road primarily to
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. According to the graph, approximately how long did it take for the total number of vehicle miles driven annually in the U.S. to double from the baseline in 1971?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. The author suggests that many modern urbanists
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. The graph best supports which claim about the relationship between economic recessions in the U.S. and total vehicle miles driven on U.S. roads?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
The following is adapted from Aaron M. Renn, “Urbanists Need to Face the Full Implications of Peak Car," published in New Geography (newgeography. com) on November 25, 2014.
As traffic levels in the United States decline in
defiance of forecasts projecting major increases, a
number of commentators have claimed that we've
reached “peak car,” the point at which the rise in
(5) vehicle miles traveled in America finally comes
to an end. But while this has been celebrated by
many urbanists as undermining plans for more
roads, we have yet to face the implications peak
car has for public policy.
(10) For a long time, urbanists have embraced
Say's Law of Markets for roads: increasing the
supply of driving lanes only increases the number
of drivers to fill them, hence building more roads
to reduce congestion is pointless. But if we've
(15) really reached peak car, maybe we really can
build our way out of congestion after all.
Traffic levels have stabilized or even fallen
in recent years. Aggregate auto travel peaked on
a per capita basis in 2005 and has fallen since.
(20) Per capita traffic levels in 2014 were back to 1994
levels. Even looking at total (not per capita) travel
shows a marked reversal.
These data are complemented by a slew of
recent stories about the poor financial
(25) performance of toll roads, resulting in part
from traffic falling far below projections. On the
Indiana Toll Road, for example, traffic fell 11% in
eight years, in contrast with a forecasted increase
of 22%, and so the concessionaire went bankrupt.
(30) Many of the trends that drove high traffic
growth in the past have largely been played
out: household size declines, suburbanization,
the entry of women into the workforce, one
car per driver, etc. That's not to say these will
(35) necessarily reverse. But we've reached the point
of diminishing returns, particularly in terms of
how many more women will join the labor force.
This is potentially very good fiscal news,
especially given tight budgets. Clearly many
(40) freeway expansion projects that have been driven
by speculative demand should be revisited. From
top to bottom, engineers need to recalibrate their
forecasting models to better correspond to reality,
and then revisit highway plans accordingly.
(45) But we must also pay attention to the flip
side of peak car. Although speculative highway
expansion projects may be dubious, there may be
good reasons now to build projects designed to
alleviate already exiting congestion. Places like
(50) Los Angeles remain chronically congested, which
has great economic and social consequences,
not the least of which is the value of untold hours
lost sitting in traffic. Although some projects
there might indeed be boondoggles, maybe it's
(55) worth building some of the planned freeway
expansions there in light of peak car. In short,
in some cases—particularly where Say's Law no
longer seems to apply—peak car strengthens the
argument for building or expanding roads.
(60) On the other hand, many of the regional
development plans designed to promote compact
central city development and transit may be
predicated on an analysis that assumes large
future traffic increases in a “business as usual”
(65) scenario. Not just highways but all aspects of
regional planning are dependent on traffic
forecasts. That's not to say that such plans are
necessarily wrong, but clearly revised traffic
reality needs to be reflected in all plans, not just
(70) highway building ones.
Urbanists and policy makers of all stripes
need to think about the full implications of peak
car. At a minimum, the traditional “you can't
build your way out of congestion” rhetoric should
(75) be supplanted, at least in most areas, by a more
nuanced approach that neither overestimates
demand, nor ignores the problems caused by
rapid growth in some regions and pockets of
congestion in others.
Q. As used in lines 31–32, “been played out” most nearly means
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. Which choice best describes the relationship between the two passages?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. As used in line 2, “introduced” most nearly means
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. How would the author of Passage 2 most likely respond to the work of Emile Durkheim as described in Passage 1?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. As used in line 24, the phrase “optimal population” refers to a population that, under ordinary circumstances, will
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. The author of Passage 2 would most likely regard the comparison of the “beautiful ones” (line 38) to the “hikikomori” (line 39) as
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. According to the graph, for approximately how many days did the population of mice in Universe 25 stay above 1,000?
Question based on the following passages and supplementary material.
Passage 1 is adapted from Radhika Singh, “Mice Utopias and the Behavioral Sink," published July 31, 2015 in the blog of The Borgen Project (borgenproject. org). Passage 2 is adapted from Frans de Waal, “Is it 'Behavioral Sink' or Resource Distribution?" published in Scientific American online July 21, 2010.
Passage 1
In 1972, behavioral researcher John Calhoun
introduced four breeding pairs of mice into a box
9-feet square and 4.5-feet high. It was a “perfect
(5) universe:” the mice were safe from predators and
disease and given ample food and water. They
doubled in population every 55 days.
However, within a year males stopped
defending their territory, random violence broke
(10) out, and female mice attacked their own offspring.
Normal social bonds and interactions completely
broke down. Infant abandonment soared, and
mortality climbed. Cannibalism appeared, even
though there was more than enough food. Fertile
(15) females closed themselves off from society, and
males of reproductive age—Calhoun called them
the “beautiful ones”—did nothing but eat, sleep
and groom.
Calhoun called this breakdown the
(20) “behavioral sink,” vand believed it came about
when there were too many mice and a lack of
important social roles for each one to play. Even
when enough of the population died off so that
only an optimal population remained, the mice
(25) were not able to return to their natural behavior.
This connection between a breakdown of
social bonds and violence was observed by Emile
Durkheim in the late 19th century. In traditional
societies, where family expectations and religion
(30) held sway, people enjoyed strong social bonds
and had distinct social roles to fill. However,
as they moved to cities, they found they were
fighting for a place in society. In exasperation and
a state of helplessness, many fell into poverty or
(35) turned to crime, violence and even suicide.
The fear of failing to be a productive member
of society and fulfilling social roles can also push
people, like the “beautiful ones,” into isolating
themselves. For instance, Japanese “hikikomori”
(40) refuse to leave their rooms, sometimes for years,
because they feel shame for being unable to fulfill
familial expectations.
However, it is not clear that a high population
density necessarily leads to a breakdown of
(45) society and social roles. Humans might be
able, with our ingenuity, to create social roles
for everyone and avoid the behavioral sink.
Some critics, such as psychologist Jonathan
Freedam, suggested that it was not the density of
(50) population that overwhelmed the mice but the
large number of social interactions they had to
deal with. Humans are able to avoid this, even
while living in a highly dense area.
Passage 2
In the 1960s, John Calhoun placed a group
(55) of rats in a room and observed how the animals
killed, sexually assaulted and, eventually,
cannibalized one another. This
behavioral deviancy led Calhoun to coin the phrase
“behavioral sink.”
(60) In no time, popularizers were comparing
politically motivated street riots with rat packs
and inner cities to behavioral sinks. Warning
that society was heading for either anarchy or
dictatorship, Robert Ardrey, a popular science
(65) journalist, remarked in 1970 on the voluntary
nature of human crowding and its ill effects. The
negative impact of crowding became a central
tenet of the voluminous literature on aggression.
In extrapolating from rodents to people,
(70) however, these writers were making a giant leap.
Compare, for instance, the per capita murder
rates with the number of people per square
kilometer in different nations. There is in fact no
statistically meaningful relation. Among free-
(75) market nations, the U.S. has the highest homicide
rate despite a low population density.
To see how other primates respond to being
packed together, we compared rhesus monkeys
in crowded cages with those roaming free
(80) on Morgan Island in South Carolina. We also
compared chimpanzees in indoor enclosures
with those living on large forested islands.
Nothing like the expected crowding effects
could be found. If anything, primates become
(85) more sociable in captivity, grooming each other
more—probably in an effort to counter the
potential of conflict, which is greater the closer
they live together. Primates are excellent at
conflict resolution.
(90) For the future of the world this means that
crowding by itself is perhaps not the problem it
is made it out to be. Resource distribution seems
the real issue. This was already true for Calhoun's
rats, the violence among them could be explained
(95) by concentrated food sources and competition.
Also for humans, I would worry more about
sustainability and resource distribution than
population density.
Phase A: Days 1–104 (Social Adjustment): Mice are introduced (4 males and 4 females). Nests are established.
Phase B: Days 105–315 (Rapid growth): Population doubles every 55 days.
Male strength corresponds to frequency of reproduction. As crowding develops, immature males begin to proliferate within the population.
Phase C: Days 316–560 (Stagnation): Population doubles every 145 days.
Male ability to defend territory declines. Nursing females become more aggressive, even towards own offspring. By midway point in Phase C, virtually all young are prematurely rejected by their mothers. Although 20% of nest sites are unoccupied, there is severe overcrowding in other sites.
Withdrawn males become more violent toward each other.
Phase D: Days 561–1588 (Death): Population begins to decline on Day 561.
Incidences of pregnancy decline rapidly with no young surviving. The last 1000 mice born grow up with no social skills or ability to defend territory. The males become withdrawn and obsessed with their own grooming.
Q. As used in line 74, “relation” most nearly means