2024年军队文职人员招聘《英语语言文学》押题密卷

There are different types of affixes or morphemes.The affix"-ed"in the word"learned"is known as a（n）__________.

He copied other people’s ideas in writing his new book，which is a kind of copywrite( )

With( )and fashionable elements，Beijing attracts a large number of young people every year.

After knowing his partner has been under arrest，he( )his crime.

This kind of glasses manufactured by experienced craftsmen( )comfortably.

The security of a country is( )related to the safety of the rest world.

The bomb destroyed a police station and damaged a church( )

The color in her shirt( )gently after it was washed by washing machine.

The answers to the problem，the scientists say，is to build up the immune system，which not only will give greater( )to disease but will boost cellular regeneration and improve the skin.

I am so sorry for that I can’t contact you too frequently these days since I’m busy working on an important project( )

The computer center，( )last year，is very popular among the students in this school.

Industrialization of sofware trade leads to the production of software( ).

( )in the earth’s crust，the rock may be subjected to temperatures high enough to melt it.

The fans did not think( )of him because they know how poorly he was.

The heart is( )intelligent than the stomach，for they are both controlled by the brain.

There is no reason they should limit how much vitamin you take，( )they can limit how much water you drink.

The path in the park looked beautiful，( )with( )leaves.

The captain and his crews depended on the( )of navigation- the compass for orientation.

He( )with Smith at least four times in the past three years.

( )，domesticated grapes grow in clusters，range in color from pale green to black，and contain sugar in varying quantities.

In an effort to( )culture shocks，I think it is necessary to know something about the nature of culture.

Not until the game had begun( )at the sports ground.

The fifth-generation computers，with artificial intelligence，( )and perfected now.

I don’t think it advisable that Tim( )to the job since he has no experience.

Jean Wagner′s most enduring contribution to the study of Afro-American poetry is his insistence that it( )in a religious，as well as worldly，frame of reference.

The( )nature of the plant is very different from others for its growth and distribution depend on its host completely.

The scents of the flowers were( )to us by the breeze.

I just wonder( )that makes him so excited.

( )you start，you will never give up.

It’s reported that by the end of this year the output of cement in the factory( )by about 30%.

They gave each other a big hug with( )，since they haven’t seen each other for 15 years.

The social workers tried to( )the juvenile delinquents.

I’ll work( )because I don’t want to let him down.

In communication，a smile is usually( )strong sign of a friendly and( )open attitude.

We( )the radio signals for help from the ship.

My watch fell down on the ground and there was a hairline crack in the( )of dial plate.

The little girl( )her elder brother with breaking the doll mother bought for her.

This country is( )deflationary pressure and the country′s policy-makers should create a better policy mix to cope with the new economic environment.

The UN put the( )forward so as to better cope with the tense situation in the Middle East.

My grandparents always enjoy the( )of their relatives.

Which of the following statements about American education is wrong？( )

Australia can be divided into three big regions，which of the following is not included？( )

When did the Australian Constitution take effect？( )

Which one is the national sport of Canada？( )

The“first Americans”are( )

( )is Australia’s most important industrial city and the capital of New South Wales.

The National Day of Canada is( )

Australia completely abolished the White Australia Policy during the goverment of( ).

The Hundred Year’s War between Britain and France was fought( ).

The Great Charter was signed in( )and had( )clauses.

Of the fifty states，the smallest state in America is( )

According to the Official Language of Act of Canada，there are two official languages in Canada，they are( )

The capital city of Canada is( )

The Hundred Year’s War lasted from 1337 to 1453 between Britain and( )

The Anglo-Saxons brought( )religion to Britain.

The Commonwealth of Nations is an association of independent countries ( )

The northern part of the Australia has a tropical climate with only two seasons，and the dry season lasts from( ).

Easter is a holiday usually connected to the following except( )

The anthem of Canada is ( )

The earliest invasion of England is that by( )

( ) was honored as“the Father of English Poetry

Sister Carrie is a masterpiece of ( )work.

( ) is commonly considered to be the beginning of English literature and is the oldest surviving epic in English literature

Which of the following literary forms is regarded as the most common and influential form that English ( ) poetry has taken since 16th century？

Of the following writers，( )is NOT a Nobel Prize Winner.

Which of the following novelists wrote The Sound and the Fury？( )

Jane Austen wrote all the following novels EXCEPT ( )

( ) is the first African-American winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature.

( ) is NOT included in the modernist group

Which of the following doesn′t belong to the Cooperative Principle？( )

Which of the following words is made up of bound morphemes only？( )

( )is a typical tone language.

Which of the following pairs is not a minimal pair？( )

( ) is the defining properties of units like number， gender， case.

“Hen”is called“母鸡” in Chinese and“poule” in French.What design feature of language is reflected ( ) in the example？

Lexical ambiguity arises from polysemy or ( ) which cannot be determined by the context.

A ( ) is not a sound， it is a collection of distinctive phonetic features.

( ) refers to a construction where one clause is coordinated with another.

( ) is regarded as the “father of free verse” .

The semantic components of the word“gentleman” can be expressed as ( )

Henry Fielding′s ( )indicates the genre of novel has got to the mature period.

Which of the fllowing is not included in the design features of language？( )

( ) is a relationship in which a word of a certain class determines the form of others in terms of certain categories.

Bloomfield introduced the IC analysis， whose full name is ( ) Analysis.

Among the following poets， who is NOT a lake poet？( )

Which of the following statements is NOT TRUE？( )

If we are to use the technique of IC analysis to analyze the sentence“She broke the window with a ( ) stone yesterday”，where is the first cut？

The Financier was written by ( )

What is the construction of the sentence “The boy smiled”？( )

I was eight years old the first time I fainted. I was at friend’s house, and a bee stung me on the back of the neck. I had felt nothing but a slight pinch and the bug was soon wiped away and flushed down the toilet, but since I looked pale I was urged to call my mother. As I told her what had happened, I felt myself blacking out, sinking to the floor, vaguely aware that I was still gripping the receiver.

　　Perhaps I was allergic to the bee sting—the only one I’ve ever gotten, although to this day I have a phobia about bees, wasps, and other insects. But the image of an eight-year-old in Keds crumpling to the ground while he describes his injury to his Mommy seems to return us to Freudian territory. Note the umbilical image of the phone cord.

　　Call me fanciful. Still, I’m afraid these undertones are hardly dissipated by the second fainting incident I can recall, which practically reeks of the family romance. This took place one weekend morning while we were gathered in the kitchen to eat breakfast. My mother stood at the stove making French toast, which she had already served to the kids; my father, seated at the table, was cutting a bagel with a sharp bread knife. Contrary to every principle of kitchen safety, he was holding the bagel in his hand and cutting inward, and eventually he made a neat, shallow incision in his palm. The blood was profuse.

　　Being a hematologist, my father didn’t panic: this was just business as usual. But my mother stopped flipping French toast and collapsed to the floor. I, inspired by the blood and my mother’s collapse and the powerful odors of syrup and sugar rising from my plate, slumped forward. My forehead went into the syrup. I heard a roar—it seemed to me that I was being clutched beneath the armpits and whirled around—and then my father shook me back into consciousness. He had already attended to my mother.

　　Still think I’m fanciful? Then listen to this. Out of curiosity I asked my mother when her firs

I was eight years old the first time I fainted. I was at friend’s house, and a bee stung me on the back of the neck. I had felt nothing but a slight pinch and the bug was soon wiped away and flushed down the toilet, but since I looked pale I was urged to call my mother. As I told her what had happened, I felt myself blacking out, sinking to the floor, vaguely aware that I was still gripping the receiver.

　　Perhaps I was allergic to the bee sting—the only one I’ve ever gotten, although to this day I have a phobia about bees, wasps, and other insects. But the image of an eight-year-old in Keds crumpling to the ground while he describes his injury to his Mommy seems to return us to Freudian territory. Note the umbilical image of the phone cord.

　　Call me fanciful. Still, I’m afraid these undertones are hardly dissipated by the second fainting incident I can recall, which practically reeks of the family romance. This took place one weekend morning while we were gathered in the kitchen to eat breakfast. My mother stood at the stove making French toast, which she had already served to the kids; my father, seated at the table, was cutting a bagel with a sharp bread knife. Contrary to every principle of kitchen safety, he was holding the bagel in his hand and cutting inward, and eventually he made a neat, shallow incision in his palm. The blood was profuse.

　　Being a hematologist, my father didn’t panic: this was just business as usual. But my mother stopped flipping French toast and collapsed to the floor. I, inspired by the blood and my mother’s collapse and the powerful odors of syrup and sugar rising from my plate, slumped forward. My forehead went into the syrup. I heard a roar—it seemed to me that I was being clutched beneath the armpits and whirled around—and then my father shook me back into consciousness. He had already attended to my mother.

　　Still think I’m fanciful? Then listen to this. Out of curiosity I asked my mother when her firs

I was eight years old the first time I fainted. I was at friend’s house, and a bee stung me on the back of the neck. I had felt nothing but a slight pinch and the bug was soon wiped away and flushed down the toilet, but since I looked pale I was urged to call my mother. As I told her what had happened, I felt myself blacking out, sinking to the floor, vaguely aware that I was still gripping the receiver.

　　Perhaps I was allergic to the bee sting—the only one I’ve ever gotten, although to this day I have a phobia about bees, wasps, and other insects. But the image of an eight-year-old in Keds crumpling to the ground while he describes his injury to his Mommy seems to return us to Freudian territory. Note the umbilical image of the phone cord.

　　Call me fanciful. Still, I’m afraid these undertones are hardly dissipated by the second fainting incident I can recall, which practically reeks of the family romance. This took place one weekend morning while we were gathered in the kitchen to eat breakfast. My mother stood at the stove making French toast, which she had already served to the kids; my father, seated at the table, was cutting a bagel with a sharp bread knife. Contrary to every principle of kitchen safety, he was holding the bagel in his hand and cutting inward, and eventually he made a neat, shallow incision in his palm. The blood was profuse.

　　Being a hematologist, my father didn’t panic: this was just business as usual. But my mother stopped flipping French toast and collapsed to the floor. I, inspired by the blood and my mother’s collapse and the powerful odors of syrup and sugar rising from my plate, slumped forward. My forehead went into the syrup. I heard a roar—it seemed to me that I was being clutched beneath the armpits and whirled around—and then my father shook me back into consciousness. He had already attended to my mother.

　　Still think I’m fanciful? Then listen to this. Out of curiosity I asked my mother when her firs

I was eight years old the first time I fainted. I was at friend’s house, and a bee stung me on the back of the neck. I had felt nothing but a slight pinch and the bug was soon wiped away and flushed down the toilet, but since I looked pale I was urged to call my mother. As I told her what had happened, I felt myself blacking out, sinking to the floor, vaguely aware that I was still gripping the receiver.

　　Perhaps I was allergic to the bee sting—the only one I’ve ever gotten, although to this day I have a phobia about bees, wasps, and other insects. But the image of an eight-year-old in Keds crumpling to the ground while he describes his injury to his Mommy seems to return us to Freudian territory. Note the umbilical image of the phone cord.

　　Call me fanciful. Still, I’m afraid these undertones are hardly dissipated by the second fainting incident I can recall, which practically reeks of the family romance. This took place one weekend morning while we were gathered in the kitchen to eat breakfast. My mother stood at the stove making French toast, which she had already served to the kids; my father, seated at the table, was cutting a bagel with a sharp bread knife. Contrary to every principle of kitchen safety, he was holding the bagel in his hand and cutting inward, and eventually he made a neat, shallow incision in his palm. The blood was profuse.

　　Being a hematologist, my father didn’t panic: this was just business as usual. But my mother stopped flipping French toast and collapsed to the floor. I, inspired by the blood and my mother’s collapse and the powerful odors of syrup and sugar rising from my plate, slumped forward. My forehead went into the syrup. I heard a roar—it seemed to me that I was being clutched beneath the armpits and whirled around—and then my father shook me back into consciousness. He had already attended to my mother.

　　Still think I’m fanciful? Then listen to this. Out of curiosity I asked my mother when her firs

I was eight years old the first time I fainted. I was at friend’s house, and a bee stung me on the back of the neck. I had felt nothing but a slight pinch and the bug was soon wiped away and flushed down the toilet, but since I looked pale I was urged to call my mother. As I told her what had happened, I felt myself blacking out, sinking to the floor, vaguely aware that I was still gripping the receiver.

　　Perhaps I was allergic to the bee sting—the only one I’ve ever gotten, although to this day I have a phobia about bees, wasps, and other insects. But the image of an eight-year-old in Keds crumpling to the ground while he describes his injury to his Mommy seems to return us to Freudian territory. Note the umbilical image of the phone cord.

　　Call me fanciful. Still, I’m afraid these undertones are hardly dissipated by the second fainting incident I can recall, which practically reeks of the family romance. This took place one weekend morning while we were gathered in the kitchen to eat breakfast. My mother stood at the stove making French toast, which she had already served to the kids; my father, seated at the table, was cutting a bagel with a sharp bread knife. Contrary to every principle of kitchen safety, he was holding the bagel in his hand and cutting inward, and eventually he made a neat, shallow incision in his palm. The blood was profuse.

　　Being a hematologist, my father didn’t panic: this was just business as usual. But my mother stopped flipping French toast and collapsed to the floor. I, inspired by the blood and my mother’s collapse and the powerful odors of syrup and sugar rising from my plate, slumped forward. My forehead went into the syrup. I heard a roar—it seemed to me that I was being clutched beneath the armpits and whirled around—and then my father shook me back into consciousness. He had already attended to my mother.

　　Still think I’m fanciful? Then listen to this. Out of curiosity I asked my mother when her firs

“A writer’s job is to tell the truth,” said Hemingway in 1942. No other writer of our time had so fiercely asserted, so pugnaciously defended or so consistently exemplified the writer’s obligation to speak truly. His standard of truth-telling remained, moreover, so high and so rigorous that he was ordinarily unwilling to admit secondary evidence, whether literary evidence or evidence picked up from other sources than his own experience. “I only know what I have seen,” was a statement which came often to his lips and pen. What he had personally done, or what he knew unforgettably by having gone through one version of it, was what he was interested in telling about. This is not to say that he refused to invent freely. But he always made it a sacrosanct point to invent in terms of what he actually knew from having been there.

　　The primary intent of his writing, from first to last, was to seize and project for the reader what he often called “the way it was.” This is a characteristically simple phrase for a concept of extraordinary complexity, and Hemingway’s conception of its meaning subtly changed several times in the course of his career-always in the direction of greater complexity. At the core of the concept, however, one can invariably discern the operation of three aesthetic instruments; the sense of place the sense of fact and the sense of scene.

　　The first of these, obviously a strong passion with Hemingway, is the sense of place. “Unless you have geography, background,” he once told George Anteil, “You have nothing.” You have, that is to say, a dramatic vacuum. Few writers have been more place-conscious. Few have so carefully charted out the geographical ground work of their novels while managing to keep background so conspicuously unobtrusive. Few, accordingly, have been able to record more economically and graphically the way it is when you walk through the streets of Paris in search of breakfast at corner café… Or when, at around six O’s cl

“A writer’s job is to tell the truth,” said Hemingway in 1942. No other writer of our time had so fiercely asserted, so pugnaciously defended or so consistently exemplified the writer’s obligation to speak truly. His standard of truth-telling remained, moreover, so high and so rigorous that he was ordinarily unwilling to admit secondary evidence, whether literary evidence or evidence picked up from other sources than his own experience. “I only know what I have seen,” was a statement which came often to his lips and pen. What he had personally done, or what he knew unforgettably by having gone through one version of it, was what he was interested in telling about. This is not to say that he refused to invent freely. But he always made it a sacrosanct point to invent in terms of what he actually knew from having been there.

　　The primary intent of his writing, from first to last, was to seize and project for the reader what he often called “the way it was.” This is a characteristically simple phrase for a concept of extraordinary complexity, and Hemingway’s conception of its meaning subtly changed several times in the course of his career-always in the direction of greater complexity. At the core of the concept, however, one can invariably discern the operation of three aesthetic instruments; the sense of place the sense of fact and the sense of scene.

　　The first of these, obviously a strong passion with Hemingway, is the sense of place. “Unless you have geography, background,” he once told George Anteil, “You have nothing.” You have, that is to say, a dramatic vacuum. Few writers have been more place-conscious. Few have so carefully charted out the geographical ground work of their novels while managing to keep background so conspicuously unobtrusive. Few, accordingly, have been able to record more economically and graphically the way it is when you walk through the streets of Paris in search of breakfast at corner café… Or when, at around six O’s cl

“A writer’s job is to tell the truth,” said Hemingway in 1942. No other writer of our time had so fiercely asserted, so pugnaciously defended or so consistently exemplified the writer’s obligation to speak truly. His standard of truth-telling remained, moreover, so high and so rigorous that he was ordinarily unwilling to admit secondary evidence, whether literary evidence or evidence picked up from other sources than his own experience. “I only know what I have seen,” was a statement which came often to his lips and pen. What he had personally done, or what he knew unforgettably by having gone through one version of it, was what he was interested in telling about. This is not to say that he refused to invent freely. But he always made it a sacrosanct point to invent in terms of what he actually knew from having been there.

　　The primary intent of his writing, from first to last, was to seize and project for the reader what he often called “the way it was.” This is a characteristically simple phrase for a concept of extraordinary complexity, and Hemingway’s conception of its meaning subtly changed several times in the course of his career-always in the direction of greater complexity. At the core of the concept, however, one can invariably discern the operation of three aesthetic instruments; the sense of place the sense of fact and the sense of scene.

　　The first of these, obviously a strong passion with Hemingway, is the sense of place. “Unless you have geography, background,” he once told George Anteil, “You have nothing.” You have, that is to say, a dramatic vacuum. Few writers have been more place-conscious. Few have so carefully charted out the geographical ground work of their novels while managing to keep background so conspicuously unobtrusive. Few, accordingly, have been able to record more economically and graphically the way it is when you walk through the streets of Paris in search of breakfast at corner café… Or when, at around six O’s cl

“A writer’s job is to tell the truth,” said Hemingway in 1942. No other writer of our time had so fiercely asserted, so pugnaciously defended or so consistently exemplified the writer’s obligation to speak truly. His standard of truth-telling remained, moreover, so high and so rigorous that he was ordinarily unwilling to admit secondary evidence, whether literary evidence or evidence picked up from other sources than his own experience. “I only know what I have seen,” was a statement which came often to his lips and pen. What he had personally done, or what he knew unforgettably by having gone through one version of it, was what he was interested in telling about. This is not to say that he refused to invent freely. But he always made it a sacrosanct point to invent in terms of what he actually knew from having been there.

　　The primary intent of his writing, from first to last, was to seize and project for the reader what he often called “the way it was.” This is a characteristically simple phrase for a concept of extraordinary complexity, and Hemingway’s conception of its meaning subtly changed several times in the course of his career-always in the direction of greater complexity. At the core of the concept, however, one can invariably discern the operation of three aesthetic instruments; the sense of place the sense of fact and the sense of scene.

　　The first of these, obviously a strong passion with Hemingway, is the sense of place. “Unless you have geography, background,” he once told George Anteil, “You have nothing.” You have, that is to say, a dramatic vacuum. Few writers have been more place-conscious. Few have so carefully charted out the geographical ground work of their novels while managing to keep background so conspicuously unobtrusive. Few, accordingly, have been able to record more economically and graphically the way it is when you walk through the streets of Paris in search of breakfast at corner café… Or when, at around six O’s cl

“A writer’s job is to tell the truth,” said Hemingway in 1942. No other writer of our time had so fiercely asserted, so pugnaciously defended or so consistently exemplified the writer’s obligation to speak truly. His standard of truth-telling remained, moreover, so high and so rigorous that he was ordinarily unwilling to admit secondary evidence, whether literary evidence or evidence picked up from other sources than his own experience. “I only know what I have seen,” was a statement which came often to his lips and pen. What he had personally done, or what he knew unforgettably by having gone through one version of it, was what he was interested in telling about. This is not to say that he refused to invent freely. But he always made it a sacrosanct point to invent in terms of what he actually knew from having been there.

　　The primary intent of his writing, from first to last, was to seize and project for the reader what he often called “the way it was.” This is a characteristically simple phrase for a concept of extraordinary complexity, and Hemingway’s conception of its meaning subtly changed several times in the course of his career-always in the direction of greater complexity. At the core of the concept, however, one can invariably discern the operation of three aesthetic instruments; the sense of place the sense of fact and the sense of scene.

　　The first of these, obviously a strong passion with Hemingway, is the sense of place. “Unless you have geography, background,” he once told George Anteil, “You have nothing.” You have, that is to say, a dramatic vacuum. Few writers have been more place-conscious. Few have so carefully charted out the geographical ground work of their novels while managing to keep background so conspicuously unobtrusive. Few, accordingly, have been able to record more economically and graphically the way it is when you walk through the streets of Paris in search of breakfast at corner café… Or when, at around six O’s cl

The Welsh language has always been the ultimate marker of Welsh identity, but a generation ago it looked as if Welsh would go the way of Manx, once widely spoken on the Isle of Man but now extinct. Government financing and central planning, however, have helped reverse the decline of Welsh. Road signs and official public documents are written in both Welsh and English, and schoolchildren are required to learn both languages. Welsh is now one of the most successful of Europe’s regional languages, spoken by more than a half-million of the country’s three million people.

　　The revival of the language, particularly among young people, is part of a resurgence of national identity sweeping through this small, proud nation. Last month Wales marked the second anniversary of the opening of the National Assembly, the first parliament to be convened here since 1404. The idea behind devolution was to restore the balance within the union of nations making up the United Kingdom. With most of the people and wealth, England has always had bragging rights. The partial transfer of legislative powers from Westminster, implemented by Tony Blair, was designed to give the other members of the club—Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales—a bigger say and to counter centrifugal forces that seemed to threaten the very idea of the union.

　　The Welsh showed little enthusiasm for devolution. Whereas the Scots voted overwhelmingly for a parliament, the vote for a Welsh assembly scraped through by less than one percent on a turnout of less than 25 percent. Its powers were proportionately limited. The Assembly can decide how money from Westminster or the European Union is spent. It cannot, unlike its counterpart in Edinburgh, enact laws. But now that it is here, the Welsh are growing to like their Assembly. Many people would like it to have more powers. Its importance as figurehead will grow with the opening in 2003, of a new debating chamber, one of many new buildings that are trans

The Welsh language has always been the ultimate marker of Welsh identity, but a generation ago it looked as if Welsh would go the way of Manx, once widely spoken on the Isle of Man but now extinct. Government financing and central planning, however, have helped reverse the decline of Welsh. Road signs and official public documents are written in both Welsh and English, and schoolchildren are required to learn both languages. Welsh is now one of the most successful of Europe’s regional languages, spoken by more than a half-million of the country’s three million people.

　　The revival of the language, particularly among young people, is part of a resurgence of national identity sweeping through this small, proud nation. Last month Wales marked the second anniversary of the opening of the National Assembly, the first parliament to be convened here since 1404. The idea behind devolution was to restore the balance within the union of nations making up the United Kingdom. With most of the people and wealth, England has always had bragging rights. The partial transfer of legislative powers from Westminster, implemented by Tony Blair, was designed to give the other members of the club—Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales—a bigger say and to counter centrifugal forces that seemed to threaten the very idea of the union.

　　The Welsh showed little enthusiasm for devolution. Whereas the Scots voted overwhelmingly for a parliament, the vote for a Welsh assembly scraped through by less than one percent on a turnout of less than 25 percent. Its powers were proportionately limited. The Assembly can decide how money from Westminster or the European Union is spent. It cannot, unlike its counterpart in Edinburgh, enact laws. But now that it is here, the Welsh are growing to like their Assembly. Many people would like it to have more powers. Its importance as figurehead will grow with the opening in 2003, of a new debating chamber, one of many new buildings that are trans

The Welsh language has always been the ultimate marker of Welsh identity, but a generation ago it looked as if Welsh would go the way of Manx, once widely spoken on the Isle of Man but now extinct. Government financing and central planning, however, have helped reverse the decline of Welsh. Road signs and official public documents are written in both Welsh and English, and schoolchildren are required to learn both languages. Welsh is now one of the most successful of Europe’s regional languages, spoken by more than a half-million of the country’s three million people.

　　The revival of the language, particularly among young people, is part of a resurgence of national identity sweeping through this small, proud nation. Last month Wales marked the second anniversary of the opening of the National Assembly, the first parliament to be convened here since 1404. The idea behind devolution was to restore the balance within the union of nations making up the United Kingdom. With most of the people and wealth, England has always had bragging rights. The partial transfer of legislative powers from Westminster, implemented by Tony Blair, was designed to give the other members of the club—Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales—a bigger say and to counter centrifugal forces that seemed to threaten the very idea of the union.

　　The Welsh showed little enthusiasm for devolution. Whereas the Scots voted overwhelmingly for a parliament, the vote for a Welsh assembly scraped through by less than one percent on a turnout of less than 25 percent. Its powers were proportionately limited. The Assembly can decide how money from Westminster or the European Union is spent. It cannot, unlike its counterpart in Edinburgh, enact laws. But now that it is here, the Welsh are growing to like their Assembly. Many people would like it to have more powers. Its importance as figurehead will grow with the opening in 2003, of a new debating chamber, one of many new buildings that are trans

The Welsh language has always been the ultimate marker of Welsh identity, but a generation ago it looked as if Welsh would go the way of Manx, once widely spoken on the Isle of Man but now extinct. Government financing and central planning, however, have helped reverse the decline of Welsh. Road signs and official public documents are written in both Welsh and English, and schoolchildren are required to learn both languages. Welsh is now one of the most successful of Europe’s regional languages, spoken by more than a half-million of the country’s three million people.

　　The revival of the language, particularly among young people, is part of a resurgence of national identity sweeping through this small, proud nation. Last month Wales marked the second anniversary of the opening of the National Assembly, the first parliament to be convened here since 1404. The idea behind devolution was to restore the balance within the union of nations making up the United Kingdom. With most of the people and wealth, England has always had bragging rights. The partial transfer of legislative powers from Westminster, implemented by Tony Blair, was designed to give the other members of the club—Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales—a bigger say and to counter centrifugal forces that seemed to threaten the very idea of the union.

　　The Welsh showed little enthusiasm for devolution. Whereas the Scots voted overwhelmingly for a parliament, the vote for a Welsh assembly scraped through by less than one percent on a turnout of less than 25 percent. Its powers were proportionately limited. The Assembly can decide how money from Westminster or the European Union is spent. It cannot, unlike its counterpart in Edinburgh, enact laws. But now that it is here, the Welsh are growing to like their Assembly. Many people would like it to have more powers. Its importance as figurehead will grow with the opening in 2003, of a new debating chamber, one of many new buildings that are trans

The Welsh language has always been the ultimate marker of Welsh identity, but a generation ago it looked as if Welsh would go the way of Manx, once widely spoken on the Isle of Man but now extinct. Government financing and central planning, however, have helped reverse the decline of Welsh. Road signs and official public documents are written in both Welsh and English, and schoolchildren are required to learn both languages. Welsh is now one of the most successful of Europe’s regional languages, spoken by more than a half-million of the country’s three million people.

　　The revival of the language, particularly among young people, is part of a resurgence of national identity sweeping through this small, proud nation. Last month Wales marked the second anniversary of the opening of the National Assembly, the first parliament to be convened here since 1404. The idea behind devolution was to restore the balance within the union of nations making up the United Kingdom. With most of the people and wealth, England has always had bragging rights. The partial transfer of legislative powers from Westminster, implemented by Tony Blair, was designed to give the other members of the club—Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales—a bigger say and to counter centrifugal forces that seemed to threaten the very idea of the union.

　　The Welsh showed little enthusiasm for devolution. Whereas the Scots voted overwhelmingly for a parliament, the vote for a Welsh assembly scraped through by less than one percent on a turnout of less than 25 percent. Its powers were proportionately limited. The Assembly can decide how money from Westminster or the European Union is spent. It cannot, unlike its counterpart in Edinburgh, enact laws. But now that it is here, the Welsh are growing to like their Assembly. Many people would like it to have more powers. Its importance as figurehead will grow with the opening in 2003, of a new debating chamber, one of many new buildings that are trans

The miserable fate of Enron’s employees will be a landmark in business history, one of those awful events that everyone agrees must never be allowed to happen again. This urge is understandable and noble: thousands have lost virtually all their retirement savings with the demise of Enron stock. But making sure it never happens again may not be possible, because the sudden impoverishment of those Enron workers represents something even larger than it seems. It’s the latest turn in the unwinding of one of the most audacious promises of the 20th century.

　　The promise was assured economic security—even comfort—for essentially everyone in the developed world. With the explosion of wealth, that began in the 19th century it became possible to think about a possibility no one had dared to dream before. The fear at the center of daily living since caveman days—lack of food, warmth, shelter—would at last lose its power to terrify. That remarkable promise became reality in many ways. Governments created welfare systems for anyone in need and separate programs for the elderly (Social Security in the U.S.). Labour unions promised not only better pay for workers but also pensions for retirees. Giant corporations came into being and offered the possibility—in some cases the promise—of lifetime employment plus guaranteed pensions? The cumulative effect was a fundamental change in how millions of people approached life itself, a reversal of attitude that most rank as one of the largest in human history. For millennia the average person’s stance toward providing for himself had been. Ultimately I’m on my own. Now it became, ultimately I’ll be taken care of.

　　The early hints that this promise might be broken on a large scale came in the 1980s. U.S. business had become uncompetitive globally and began restructuring massively, with huge Layoffs. The trend accelerated in the 1990s as the bastions of corporate welfare faced reality. IBM ended its no-layoff policy. AT&T fi

The miserable fate of Enron’s employees will be a landmark in business history, one of those awful events that everyone agrees must never be allowed to happen again. This urge is understandable and noble: thousands have lost virtually all their retirement savings with the demise of Enron stock. But making sure it never happens again may not be possible, because the sudden impoverishment of those Enron workers represents something even larger than it seems. It’s the latest turn in the unwinding of one of the most audacious promises of the 20th century.

　　The promise was assured economic security—even comfort—for essentially everyone in the developed world. With the explosion of wealth, that began in the 19th century it became possible to think about a possibility no one had dared to dream before. The fear at the center of daily living since caveman days—lack of food, warmth, shelter—would at last lose its power to terrify. That remarkable promise became reality in many ways. Governments created welfare systems for anyone in need and separate programs for the elderly (Social Security in the U.S.). Labour unions promised not only better pay for workers but also pensions for retirees. Giant corporations came into being and offered the possibility—in some cases the promise—of lifetime employment plus guaranteed pensions? The cumulative effect was a fundamental change in how millions of people approached life itself, a reversal of attitude that most rank as one of the largest in human history. For millennia the average person’s stance toward providing for himself had been. Ultimately I’m on my own. Now it became, ultimately I’ll be taken care of.

　　The early hints that this promise might be broken on a large scale came in the 1980s. U.S. business had become uncompetitive globally and began restructuring massively, with huge Layoffs. The trend accelerated in the 1990s as the bastions of corporate welfare faced reality. IBM ended its no-layoff policy. AT&T fi

The miserable fate of Enron’s employees will be a landmark in business history, one of those awful events that everyone agrees must never be allowed to happen again. This urge is understandable and noble: thousands have lost virtually all their retirement savings with the demise of Enron stock. But making sure it never happens again may not be possible, because the sudden impoverishment of those Enron workers represents something even larger than it seems. It’s the latest turn in the unwinding of one of the most audacious promises of the 20th century.

　　The promise was assured economic security—even comfort—for essentially everyone in the developed world. With the explosion of wealth, that began in the 19th century it became possible to think about a possibility no one had dared to dream before. The fear at the center of daily living since caveman days—lack of food, warmth, shelter—would at last lose its power to terrify. That remarkable promise became reality in many ways. Governments created welfare systems for anyone in need and separate programs for the elderly (Social Security in the U.S.). Labour unions promised not only better pay for workers but also pensions for retirees. Giant corporations came into being and offered the possibility—in some cases the promise—of lifetime employment plus guaranteed pensions? The cumulative effect was a fundamental change in how millions of people approached life itself, a reversal of attitude that most rank as one of the largest in human history. For millennia the average person’s stance toward providing for himself had been. Ultimately I’m on my own. Now it became, ultimately I’ll be taken care of.

　　The early hints that this promise might be broken on a large scale came in the 1980s. U.S. business had become uncompetitive globally and began restructuring massively, with huge Layoffs. The trend accelerated in the 1990s as the bastions of corporate welfare faced reality. IBM ended its no-layoff policy. AT&T fi

The miserable fate of Enron’s employees will be a landmark in business history, one of those awful events that everyone agrees must never be allowed to happen again. This urge is understandable and noble: thousands have lost virtually all their retirement savings with the demise of Enron stock. But making sure it never happens again may not be possible, because the sudden impoverishment of those Enron workers represents something even larger than it seems. It’s the latest turn in the unwinding of one of the most audacious promises of the 20th century.

　　The promise was assured economic security—even comfort—for essentially everyone in the developed world. With the explosion of wealth, that began in the 19th century it became possible to think about a possibility no one had dared to dream before. The fear at the center of daily living since caveman days—lack of food, warmth, shelter—would at last lose its power to terrify. That remarkable promise became reality in many ways. Governments created welfare systems for anyone in need and separate programs for the elderly (Social Security in the U.S.). Labour unions promised not only better pay for workers but also pensions for retirees. Giant corporations came into being and offered the possibility—in some cases the promise—of lifetime employment plus guaranteed pensions? The cumulative effect was a fundamental change in how millions of people approached life itself, a reversal of attitude that most rank as one of the largest in human history. For millennia the average person’s stance toward providing for himself had been. Ultimately I’m on my own. Now it became, ultimately I’ll be taken care of.

　　The early hints that this promise might be broken on a large scale came in the 1980s. U.S. business had become uncompetitive globally and began restructuring massively, with huge Layoffs. The trend accelerated in the 1990s as the bastions of corporate welfare faced reality. IBM ended its no-layoff policy. AT&T fi

The miserable fate of Enron’s employees will be a landmark in business history, one of those awful events that everyone agrees must never be allowed to happen again. This urge is understandable and noble: thousands have lost virtually all their retirement savings with the demise of Enron stock. But making sure it never happens again may not be possible, because the sudden impoverishment of those Enron workers represents something even larger than it seems. It’s the latest turn in the unwinding of one of the most audacious promises of the 20th century.

　　The promise was assured economic security—even comfort—for essentially everyone in the developed world. With the explosion of wealth, that began in the 19th century it became possible to think about a possibility no one had dared to dream before. The fear at the center of daily living since caveman days—lack of food, warmth, shelter—would at last lose its power to terrify. That remarkable promise became reality in many ways. Governments created welfare systems for anyone in need and separate programs for the elderly (Social Security in the U.S.). Labour unions promised not only better pay for workers but also pensions for retirees. Giant corporations came into being and offered the possibility—in some cases the promise—of lifetime employment plus guaranteed pensions? The cumulative effect was a fundamental change in how millions of people approached life itself, a reversal of attitude that most rank as one of the largest in human history. For millennia the average person’s stance toward providing for himself had been. Ultimately I’m on my own. Now it became, ultimately I’ll be taken care of.

　　The early hints that this promise might be broken on a large scale came in the 1980s. U.S. business had become uncompetitive globally and began restructuring massively, with huge Layoffs. The trend accelerated in the 1990s as the bastions of corporate welfare faced reality. IBM ended its no-layoff policy. AT&T fi

Many United States companies have, unfortunately, made the search for legal protection from import competition into a major line of work. Since 1980 the United States international Trade Commission (ITC) has received about 280 complaints alleging damage from imports that benefit from subsidies by foreign governments. Another 340 charge that foreign companies “dumped” their products in thee United States at “less than fair value.” Even when no unfair practices are alleged, the simple claim that an industry has been injured by imports is sufficient grounds to seek relief.

　　Contrary to the general impression, this quest for import relief has hurt more companies than it has helped. As corporations begin to function globally, they develop an intricate web of marketing, production, and research relationships. The complexity of these relationships makes it unlikely that a system of import relief laws will meet the strategic needs of all the units under the same parent company, №. Suppose a United States-owned company establishes an overseas plant to manufacture a product while its competitor makes the same product in the United States. If the competitor can prove injury from the imports-and that the United States company received a subsidy from a foreign government to build its plant abroad-the United States company’s products will be uncompetitive in the United States, since they would be subject to duties.

　　Perhaps the most brazen ease occurred when the ITC investigated allegations that Canadian companies were injuring the United States salt industry by dumping rock salt, used to de-ice roads. The bizarre aspect of the complaint was that a foreign conglomerate with United States operations was crying for help against a United States company with foreign operations. The “United States” company claiming injury was a subsidiary of a Dutch conglomerate, while the “Canadian” companies included a subsidiary of a Chicago firm that was the second-largest domesti

Many United States companies have, unfortunately, made the search for legal protection from import competition into a major line of work. Since 1980 the United States international Trade Commission (ITC) has received about 280 complaints alleging damage from imports that benefit from subsidies by foreign governments. Another 340 charge that foreign companies “dumped” their products in thee United States at “less than fair value.” Even when no unfair practices are alleged, the simple claim that an industry has been injured by imports is sufficient grounds to seek relief.

　　Contrary to the general impression, this quest for import relief has hurt more companies than it has helped. As corporations begin to function globally, they develop an intricate web of marketing, production, and research relationships. The complexity of these relationships makes it unlikely that a system of import relief laws will meet the strategic needs of all the units under the same parent company, №. Suppose a United States-owned company establishes an overseas plant to manufacture a product while its competitor makes the same product in the United States. If the competitor can prove injury from the imports-and that the United States company received a subsidy from a foreign government to build its plant abroad-the United States company’s products will be uncompetitive in the United States, since they would be subject to duties.

　　Perhaps the most brazen ease occurred when the ITC investigated allegations that Canadian companies were injuring the United States salt industry by dumping rock salt, used to de-ice roads. The bizarre aspect of the complaint was that a foreign conglomerate with United States operations was crying for help against a United States company with foreign operations. The “United States” company claiming injury was a subsidiary of a Dutch conglomerate, while the “Canadian” companies included a subsidiary of a Chicago firm that was the second-largest domesti

Many United States companies have, unfortunately, made the search for legal protection from import competition into a major line of work. Since 1980 the United States international Trade Commission (ITC) has received about 280 complaints alleging damage from imports that benefit from subsidies by foreign governments. Another 340 charge that foreign companies “dumped” their products in thee United States at “less than fair value.” Even when no unfair practices are alleged, the simple claim that an industry has been injured by imports is sufficient grounds to seek relief.

　　Contrary to the general impression, this quest for import relief has hurt more companies than it has helped. As corporations begin to function globally, they develop an intricate web of marketing, production, and research relationships. The complexity of these relationships makes it unlikely that a system of import relief laws will meet the strategic needs of all the units under the same parent company, №. Suppose a United States-owned company establishes an overseas plant to manufacture a product while its competitor makes the same product in the United States. If the competitor can prove injury from the imports-and that the United States company received a subsidy from a foreign government to build its plant abroad-the United States company’s products will be uncompetitive in the United States, since they would be subject to duties.

　　Perhaps the most brazen ease occurred when the ITC investigated allegations that Canadian companies were injuring the United States salt industry by dumping rock salt, used to de-ice roads. The bizarre aspect of the complaint was that a foreign conglomerate with United States operations was crying for help against a United States company with foreign operations. The “United States” company claiming injury was a subsidiary of a Dutch conglomerate, while the “Canadian” companies included a subsidiary of a Chicago firm that was the second-largest domesti

Many United States companies have, unfortunately, made the search for legal protection from import competition into a major line of work. Since 1980 the United States international Trade Commission (ITC) has received about 280 complaints alleging damage from imports that benefit from subsidies by foreign governments. Another 340 charge that foreign companies “dumped” their products in thee United States at “less than fair value.” Even when no unfair practices are alleged, the simple claim that an industry has been injured by imports is sufficient grounds to seek relief.

　　Contrary to the general impression, this quest for import relief has hurt more companies than it has helped. As corporations begin to function globally, they develop an intricate web of marketing, production, and research relationships. The complexity of these relationships makes it unlikely that a system of import relief laws will meet the strategic needs of all the units under the same parent company, №. Suppose a United States-owned company establishes an overseas plant to manufacture a product while its competitor makes the same product in the United States. If the competitor can prove injury from the imports-and that the United States company received a subsidy from a foreign government to build its plant abroad-the United States company’s products will be uncompetitive in the United States, since they would be subject to duties.

　　Perhaps the most brazen ease occurred when the ITC investigated allegations that Canadian companies were injuring the United States salt industry by dumping rock salt, used to de-ice roads. The bizarre aspect of the complaint was that a foreign conglomerate with United States operations was crying for help against a United States company with foreign operations. The “United States” company claiming injury was a subsidiary of a Dutch conglomerate, while the “Canadian” companies included a subsidiary of a Chicago firm that was the second-largest domesti

Many United States companies have, unfortunately, made the search for legal protection from import competition into a major line of work. Since 1980 the United States international Trade Commission (ITC) has received about 280 complaints alleging damage from imports that benefit from subsidies by foreign governments. Another 340 charge that foreign companies “dumped” their products in thee United States at “less than fair value.” Even when no unfair practices are alleged, the simple claim that an industry has been injured by imports is sufficient grounds to seek relief.

　　Contrary to the general impression, this quest for import relief has hurt more companies than it has helped. As corporations begin to function globally, they develop an intricate web of marketing, production, and research relationships. The complexity of these relationships makes it unlikely that a system of import relief laws will meet the strategic needs of all the units under the same parent company, №. Suppose a United States-owned company establishes an overseas plant to manufacture a product while its competitor makes the same product in the United States. If the competitor can prove injury from the imports-and that the United States company received a subsidy from a foreign government to build its plant abroad-the United States company’s products will be uncompetitive in the United States, since they would be subject to duties.

　　Perhaps the most brazen ease occurred when the ITC investigated allegations that Canadian companies were injuring the United States salt industry by dumping rock salt, used to de-ice roads. The bizarre aspect of the complaint was that a foreign conglomerate with United States operations was crying for help against a United States company with foreign operations. The “United States” company claiming injury was a subsidiary of a Dutch conglomerate, while the “Canadian” companies included a subsidiary of a Chicago firm that was the second-largest domesti

Since the late 1970’s in the face of a severe loss of market share in dozens of industries, manufacturers in the United States have been trying to improve productivity—and therefore enhance their international competitiveness—through cost-cutting programs. (Cost-cutting here is defined as raising labor output while holding the amount of labor constant.) However, from 1978 through 1982, productivity—the value of goods manufactured divided by the amount of labor input—did not improve; and while the results were better in the business upturn of the three years following, they ran 25percent lower than productivity improvements during earlier, post-1945 upturns. At the same time, it became clear that the harder manufactures worked to implement cost-cutting, the more they lost their competitive edge.

　　With this paradox in mind, I recently visited 25 companies; it became clear to me that the cost-cutting approach to increasing productivity is fundamentally flawed. Manufacturing regularly observes a “40, 40, 20” rule. Roughly 40 percent of any manufacturing-based competitive advantage derives from long-term changes in manufacturing structure (decisions about the number, size, location, and capacity of facilities) and in approaches to materials. Another 40 percent comes from major changes in equipment and process technology. The final 20 percent rests on implementing conventional cost-cutting. This rule does not imply that cost-cutting should not be tried. The well-known tools of this approach—including simplifying jobs and retraining employees to work smarter, not harder—do produce results. But the tools quickly reach the limits of what they can contribute.

　　Another problem is that the cost-cutting approach hinders innovation and discourages creative people. As Abernathy’s study of automobile manufacturers has shown, an industry can easily become prisoner of its own investments in cost-cutting techniques, reducing its ability to develop new products. And ma

Since the late 1970’s in the face of a severe loss of market share in dozens of industries, manufacturers in the United States have been trying to improve productivity—and therefore enhance their international competitiveness—through cost-cutting programs. (Cost-cutting here is defined as raising labor output while holding the amount of labor constant.) However, from 1978 through 1982, productivity—the value of goods manufactured divided by the amount of labor input—did not improve; and while the results were better in the business upturn of the three years following, they ran 25percent lower than productivity improvements during earlier, post-1945 upturns. At the same time, it became clear that the harder manufactures worked to implement cost-cutting, the more they lost their competitive edge.

　　With this paradox in mind, I recently visited 25 companies; it became clear to me that the cost-cutting approach to increasing productivity is fundamentally flawed. Manufacturing regularly observes a “40, 40, 20” rule. Roughly 40 percent of any manufacturing-based competitive advantage derives from long-term changes in manufacturing structure (decisions about the number, size, location, and capacity of facilities) and in approaches to materials. Another 40 percent comes from major changes in equipment and process technology. The final 20 percent rests on implementing conventional cost-cutting. This rule does not imply that cost-cutting should not be tried. The well-known tools of this approach—including simplifying jobs and retraining employees to work smarter, not harder—do produce results. But the tools quickly reach the limits of what they can contribute.

　　Another problem is that the cost-cutting approach hinders innovation and discourages creative people. As Abernathy’s study of automobile manufacturers has shown, an industry can easily become prisoner of its own investments in cost-cutting techniques, reducing its ability to develop new products. And ma

Since the late 1970’s in the face of a severe loss of market share in dozens of industries, manufacturers in the United States have been trying to improve productivity—and therefore enhance their international competitiveness—through cost-cutting programs. (Cost-cutting here is defined as raising labor output while holding the amount of labor constant.) However, from 1978 through 1982, productivity—the value of goods manufactured divided by the amount of labor input—did not improve; and while the results were better in the business upturn of the three years following, they ran 25percent lower than productivity improvements during earlier, post-1945 upturns. At the same time, it became clear that the harder manufactures worked to implement cost-cutting, the more they lost their competitive edge.

　　With this paradox in mind, I recently visited 25 companies; it became clear to me that the cost-cutting approach to increasing productivity is fundamentally flawed. Manufacturing regularly observes a “40, 40, 20” rule. Roughly 40 percent of any manufacturing-based competitive advantage derives from long-term changes in manufacturing structure (decisions about the number, size, location, and capacity of facilities) and in approaches to materials. Another 40 percent comes from major changes in equipment and process technology. The final 20 percent rests on implementing conventional cost-cutting. This rule does not imply that cost-cutting should not be tried. The well-known tools of this approach—including simplifying jobs and retraining employees to work smarter, not harder—do produce results. But the tools quickly reach the limits of what they can contribute.

　　Another problem is that the cost-cutting approach hinders innovation and discourages creative people. As Abernathy’s study of automobile manufacturers has shown, an industry can easily become prisoner of its own investments in cost-cutting techniques, reducing its ability to develop new products. And ma

Since the late 1970’s in the face of a severe loss of market share in dozens of industries, manufacturers in the United States have been trying to improve productivity—and therefore enhance their international competitiveness—through cost-cutting programs. (Cost-cutting here is defined as raising labor output while holding the amount of labor constant.) However, from 1978 through 1982, productivity—the value of goods manufactured divided by the amount of labor input—did not improve; and while the results were better in the business upturn of the three years following, they ran 25percent lower than productivity improvements during earlier, post-1945 upturns. At the same time, it became clear that the harder manufactures worked to implement cost-cutting, the more they lost their competitive edge.

　　With this paradox in mind, I recently visited 25 companies; it became clear to me that the cost-cutting approach to increasing productivity is fundamentally flawed. Manufacturing regularly observes a “40, 40, 20” rule. Roughly 40 percent of any manufacturing-based competitive advantage derives from long-term changes in manufacturing structure (decisions about the number, size, location, and capacity of facilities) and in approaches to materials. Another 40 percent comes from major changes in equipment and process technology. The final 20 percent rests on implementing conventional cost-cutting. This rule does not imply that cost-cutting should not be tried. The well-known tools of this approach—including simplifying jobs and retraining employees to work smarter, not harder—do produce results. But the tools quickly reach the limits of what they can contribute.

　　Another problem is that the cost-cutting approach hinders innovation and discourages creative people. As Abernathy’s study of automobile manufacturers has shown, an industry can easily become prisoner of its own investments in cost-cutting techniques, reducing its ability to develop new products. And ma

Since the late 1970’s in the face of a severe loss of market share in dozens of industries, manufacturers in the United States have been trying to improve productivity—and therefore enhance their international competitiveness—through cost-cutting programs. (Cost-cutting here is defined as raising labor output while holding the amount of labor constant.) However, from 1978 through 1982, productivity—the value of goods manufactured divided by the amount of labor input—did not improve; and while the results were better in the business upturn of the three years following, they ran 25percent lower than productivity improvements during earlier, post-1945 upturns. At the same time, it became clear that the harder manufactures worked to implement cost-cutting, the more they lost their competitive edge.

　　With this paradox in mind, I recently visited 25 companies; it became clear to me that the cost-cutting approach to increasing productivity is fundamentally flawed. Manufacturing regularly observes a “40, 40, 20” rule. Roughly 40 percent of any manufacturing-based competitive advantage derives from long-term changes in manufacturing structure (decisions about the number, size, location, and capacity of facilities) and in approaches to materials. Another 40 percent comes from major changes in equipment and process technology. The final 20 percent rests on implementing conventional cost-cutting. This rule does not imply that cost-cutting should not be tried. The well-known tools of this approach—including simplifying jobs and retraining employees to work smarter, not harder—do produce results. But the tools quickly reach the limits of what they can contribute.

　　Another problem is that the cost-cutting approach hinders innovation and discourages creative people. As Abernathy’s study of automobile manufacturers has shown, an industry can easily become prisoner of its own investments in cost-cutting techniques, reducing its ability to develop new products. And ma

Film has properties that set it apart from painting, sculpture, novels, and plays. It is also, in its most popular and powerful form, a story telling medium that shares many elements with the short story and the novel. And since film presents its stories in dramatic form, it has even more in common with the stage play: Both plays and movies act out or dramatize, show rather than tell, what happens.

　　Unlike the novel, short story, or play, however, film is not handy to study; it cannot be effectively frozen on the printed page. The novel and short story are relatively easy to study because they are written to be read. The stage play is slightly more difficult to study because it is written to be performed. But plays are printed, and because they rely heavily on the spoken word, imaginative readers can conjure up at least a pale imitation of the experience they might have been watching a performance on stage. This cannot be said of the screenplay, for a film depends greatly on visual and other nonvisual elements that are not easily expressed in writing. The screenplay requires so much “filling in” by our imagination that we cannot really approximate the experience of a film by reading a screenplay, and reading a screenplay is worthwhile only if we have already seen the film. Thus, most screenplays are published not to read but rather to be remembered.

　　Still, film should not be ignored because studying it requires extra effort. And the fact that we do not generally “read” films does not mean we should ignore the principles of literary or dramatic analysis when we see a film. Literature and films do share many elements and communicate many things in similar ways. Perceptive film analysis rests on the principles used in literary analysis, and if we apply what we have learned in the study of literature to our analysis of films, we will be far ahead of those who do not. Therefore, before we turn to the unique elements of film, we need to look into the ele

Film has properties that set it apart from painting, sculpture, novels, and plays. It is also, in its most popular and powerful form, a story telling medium that shares many elements with the short story and the novel. And since film presents its stories in dramatic form, it has even more in common with the stage play: Both plays and movies act out or dramatize, show rather than tell, what happens.

　　Unlike the novel, short story, or play, however, film is not handy to study; it cannot be effectively frozen on the printed page. The novel and short story are relatively easy to study because they are written to be read. The stage play is slightly more difficult to study because it is written to be performed. But plays are printed, and because they rely heavily on the spoken word, imaginative readers can conjure up at least a pale imitation of the experience they might have been watching a performance on stage. This cannot be said of the screenplay, for a film depends greatly on visual and other nonvisual elements that are not easily expressed in writing. The screenplay requires so much “filling in” by our imagination that we cannot really approximate the experience of a film by reading a screenplay, and reading a screenplay is worthwhile only if we have already seen the film. Thus, most screenplays are published not to read but rather to be remembered.

　　Still, film should not be ignored because studying it requires extra effort. And the fact that we do not generally “read” films does not mean we should ignore the principles of literary or dramatic analysis when we see a film. Literature and films do share many elements and communicate many things in similar ways. Perceptive film analysis rests on the principles used in literary analysis, and if we apply what we have learned in the study of literature to our analysis of films, we will be far ahead of those who do not. Therefore, before we turn to the unique elements of film, we need to look into the ele

Film has properties that set it apart from painting, sculpture, novels, and plays. It is also, in its most popular and powerful form, a story telling medium that shares many elements with the short story and the novel. And since film presents its stories in dramatic form, it has even more in common with the stage play: Both plays and movies act out or dramatize, show rather than tell, what happens.

　　Unlike the novel, short story, or play, however, film is not handy to study; it cannot be effectively frozen on the printed page. The novel and short story are relatively easy to study because they are written to be read. The stage play is slightly more difficult to study because it is written to be performed. But plays are printed, and because they rely heavily on the spoken word, imaginative readers can conjure up at least a pale imitation of the experience they might have been watching a performance on stage. This cannot be said of the screenplay, for a film depends greatly on visual and other nonvisual elements that are not easily expressed in writing. The screenplay requires so much “filling in” by our imagination that we cannot really approximate the experience of a film by reading a screenplay, and reading a screenplay is worthwhile only if we have already seen the film. Thus, most screenplays are published not to read but rather to be remembered.

　　Still, film should not be ignored because studying it requires extra effort. And the fact that we do not generally “read” films does not mean we should ignore the principles of literary or dramatic analysis when we see a film. Literature and films do share many elements and communicate many things in similar ways. Perceptive film analysis rests on the principles used in literary analysis, and if we apply what we have learned in the study of literature to our analysis of films, we will be far ahead of those who do not. Therefore, before we turn to the unique elements of film, we need to look into the ele

Film has properties that set it apart from painting, sculpture, novels, and plays. It is also, in its most popular and powerful form, a story telling medium that shares many elements with the short story and the novel. And since film presents its stories in dramatic form, it has even more in common with the stage play: Both plays and movies act out or dramatize, show rather than tell, what happens.

　　Unlike the novel, short story, or play, however, film is not handy to study; it cannot be effectively frozen on the printed page. The novel and short story are relatively easy to study because they are written to be read. The stage play is slightly more difficult to study because it is written to be performed. But plays are printed, and because they rely heavily on the spoken word, imaginative readers can conjure up at least a pale imitation of the experience they might have been watching a performance on stage. This cannot be said of the screenplay, for a film depends greatly on visual and other nonvisual elements that are not easily expressed in writing. The screenplay requires so much “filling in” by our imagination that we cannot really approximate the experience of a film by reading a screenplay, and reading a screenplay is worthwhile only if we have already seen the film. Thus, most screenplays are published not to read but rather to be remembered.

　　Still, film should not be ignored because studying it requires extra effort. And the fact that we do not generally “read” films does not mean we should ignore the principles of literary or dramatic analysis when we see a film. Literature and films do share many elements and communicate many things in similar ways. Perceptive film analysis rests on the principles used in literary analysis, and if we apply what we have learned in the study of literature to our analysis of films, we will be far ahead of those who do not. Therefore, before we turn to the unique elements of film, we need to look into the ele

Film has properties that set it apart from painting, sculpture, novels, and plays. It is also, in its most popular and powerful form, a story telling medium that shares many elements with the short story and the novel. And since film presents its stories in dramatic form, it has even more in common with the stage play: Both plays and movies act out or dramatize, show rather than tell, what happens.

　　Unlike the novel, short story, or play, however, film is not handy to study; it cannot be effectively frozen on the printed page. The novel and short story are relatively easy to study because they are written to be read. The stage play is slightly more difficult to study because it is written to be performed. But plays are printed, and because they rely heavily on the spoken word, imaginative readers can conjure up at least a pale imitation of the experience they might have been watching a performance on stage. This cannot be said of the screenplay, for a film depends greatly on visual and other nonvisual elements that are not easily expressed in writing. The screenplay requires so much “filling in” by our imagination that we cannot really approximate the experience of a film by reading a screenplay, and reading a screenplay is worthwhile only if we have already seen the film. Thus, most screenplays are published not to read but rather to be remembered.

　　Still, film should not be ignored because studying it requires extra effort. And the fact that we do not generally “read” films does not mean we should ignore the principles of literary or dramatic analysis when we see a film. Literature and films do share many elements and communicate many things in similar ways. Perceptive film analysis rests on the principles used in literary analysis, and if we apply what we have learned in the study of literature to our analysis of films, we will be far ahead of those who do not. Therefore, before we turn to the unique elements of film, we need to look into the ele

When we eat may be just as important as what we eat. A new study shows that mice that eat when they should be sleeping gain more weight than mice that eat at normal hours. Another study sheds light on why we pack on the pounds in the first place. Whether these studies translate into therapies that help humans beat obesity remains to be seen, but they give scientists clues about the myriad factors that they must take into account.

　　Observations of overnight workers have shown that eating at night disrupts metabolism and the hormones that signal we’re sated. But no one had done controlled studies on this connection until now. Biologist Fred Turek of Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and graduate student Deanna Arble examined the link between a high-fat diet and what time of day mice eat. A control group of six nocturnal mice ate their pellets (60％ fat by calories, mostly lard) during the night. Another group of six ate the same meal during the day, Turek says, which disrupts their circadian rhythm—the body’s normal 24-hour cycle.

　　After 6 weeks, the off-schedule mice weighed almost 20％ more than the controls, Turek and Arble report today in?Obesity, supporting the idea that consuming calories when you should be sleeping is harmful. Turek and Arble acknowledge that the disrupted mice ate a tad more and were a tad more sluggish, but the differences could not account for all of the weight gain.

　　In the second study, a different team of researchers investigated the link between weight and the immune system. Hundreds of genes seem to affect the accumulation of fat, but one that helps protect us from infection might help us lose weight with little effort, biochemist Alan Saltiel of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues suggest today in?Cell. The researchers tested me weight-adding abilities of a protein called IKK∈, which is linked with obesity, diabetes, and chronic, low-1evel inflammation. For 3 months, the team fed six

When we eat may be just as important as what we eat. A new study shows that mice that eat when they should be sleeping gain more weight than mice that eat at normal hours. Another study sheds light on why we pack on the pounds in the first place. Whether these studies translate into therapies that help humans beat obesity remains to be seen, but they give scientists clues about the myriad factors that they must take into account.

　　Observations of overnight workers have shown that eating at night disrupts metabolism and the hormones that signal we’re sated. But no one had done controlled studies on this connection until now. Biologist Fred Turek of Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and graduate student Deanna Arble examined the link between a high-fat diet and what time of day mice eat. A control group of six nocturnal mice ate their pellets (60％ fat by calories, mostly lard) during the night. Another group of six ate the same meal during the day, Turek says, which disrupts their circadian rhythm—the body’s normal 24-hour cycle.

　　After 6 weeks, the off-schedule mice weighed almost 20％ more than the controls, Turek and Arble report today in?Obesity, supporting the idea that consuming calories when you should be sleeping is harmful. Turek and Arble acknowledge that the disrupted mice ate a tad more and were a tad more sluggish, but the differences could not account for all of the weight gain.

　　In the second study, a different team of researchers investigated the link between weight and the immune system. Hundreds of genes seem to affect the accumulation of fat, but one that helps protect us from infection might help us lose weight with little effort, biochemist Alan Saltiel of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues suggest today in?Cell. The researchers tested me weight-adding abilities of a protein called IKK∈, which is linked with obesity, diabetes, and chronic, low-1evel inflammation. For 3 months, the team fed six

When we eat may be just as important as what we eat. A new study shows that mice that eat when they should be sleeping gain more weight than mice that eat at normal hours. Another study sheds light on why we pack on the pounds in the first place. Whether these studies translate into therapies that help humans beat obesity remains to be seen, but they give scientists clues about the myriad factors that they must take into account.

　　Observations of overnight workers have shown that eating at night disrupts metabolism and the hormones that signal we’re sated. But no one had done controlled studies on this connection until now. Biologist Fred Turek of Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and graduate student Deanna Arble examined the link between a high-fat diet and what time of day mice eat. A control group of six nocturnal mice ate their pellets (60％ fat by calories, mostly lard) during the night. Another group of six ate the same meal during the day, Turek says, which disrupts their circadian rhythm—the body’s normal 24-hour cycle.

　　After 6 weeks, the off-schedule mice weighed almost 20％ more than the controls, Turek and Arble report today in?Obesity, supporting the idea that consuming calories when you should be sleeping is harmful. Turek and Arble acknowledge that the disrupted mice ate a tad more and were a tad more sluggish, but the differences could not account for all of the weight gain.

　　In the second study, a different team of researchers investigated the link between weight and the immune system. Hundreds of genes seem to affect the accumulation of fat, but one that helps protect us from infection might help us lose weight with little effort, biochemist Alan Saltiel of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues suggest today in?Cell. The researchers tested me weight-adding abilities of a protein called IKK∈, which is linked with obesity, diabetes, and chronic, low-1evel inflammation. For 3 months, the team fed six

When we eat may be just as important as what we eat. A new study shows that mice that eat when they should be sleeping gain more weight than mice that eat at normal hours. Another study sheds light on why we pack on the pounds in the first place. Whether these studies translate into therapies that help humans beat obesity remains to be seen, but they give scientists clues about the myriad factors that they must take into account.

　　Observations of overnight workers have shown that eating at night disrupts metabolism and the hormones that signal we’re sated. But no one had done controlled studies on this connection until now. Biologist Fred Turek of Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and graduate student Deanna Arble examined the link between a high-fat diet and what time of day mice eat. A control group of six nocturnal mice ate their pellets (60％ fat by calories, mostly lard) during the night. Another group of six ate the same meal during the day, Turek says, which disrupts their circadian rhythm—the body’s normal 24-hour cycle.

　　After 6 weeks, the off-schedule mice weighed almost 20％ more than the controls, Turek and Arble report today in?Obesity, supporting the idea that consuming calories when you should be sleeping is harmful. Turek and Arble acknowledge that the disrupted mice ate a tad more and were a tad more sluggish, but the differences could not account for all of the weight gain.

　　In the second study, a different team of researchers investigated the link between weight and the immune system. Hundreds of genes seem to affect the accumulation of fat, but one that helps protect us from infection might help us lose weight with little effort, biochemist Alan Saltiel of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues suggest today in?Cell. The researchers tested me weight-adding abilities of a protein called IKK∈, which is linked with obesity, diabetes, and chronic, low-1evel inflammation. For 3 months, the team fed six

When we eat may be just as important as what we eat. A new study shows that mice that eat when they should be sleeping gain more weight than mice that eat at normal hours. Another study sheds light on why we pack on the pounds in the first place. Whether these studies translate into therapies that help humans beat obesity remains to be seen, but they give scientists clues about the myriad factors that they must take into account.

　　Observations of overnight workers have shown that eating at night disrupts metabolism and the hormones that signal we’re sated. But no one had done controlled studies on this connection until now. Biologist Fred Turek of Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and graduate student Deanna Arble examined the link between a high-fat diet and what time of day mice eat. A control group of six nocturnal mice ate their pellets (60％ fat by calories, mostly lard) during the night. Another group of six ate the same meal during the day, Turek says, which disrupts their circadian rhythm—the body’s normal 24-hour cycle.

　　After 6 weeks, the off-schedule mice weighed almost 20％ more than the controls, Turek and Arble report today in?Obesity, supporting the idea that consuming calories when you should be sleeping is harmful. Turek and Arble acknowledge that the disrupted mice ate a tad more and were a tad more sluggish, but the differences could not account for all of the weight gain.

　　In the second study, a different team of researchers investigated the link between weight and the immune system. Hundreds of genes seem to affect the accumulation of fat, but one that helps protect us from infection might help us lose weight with little effort, biochemist Alan Saltiel of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues suggest today in?Cell. The researchers tested me weight-adding abilities of a protein called IKK∈, which is linked with obesity, diabetes, and chronic, low-1evel inflammation. For 3 months, the team fed six

This year some twenty-three hundred teen-agers from all over the world will spend about ten months in U.S. homes. They will attend U.S. schools, meet U.S. teen-agers, and form lifelong impressions of the real America. At the same time, about thirteen hundred American teen-agers will go abroad to learn new languages and gain a new understanding of world problems. On returning home they, like others who have participated in the exchange program, will pass along their fresh impression to the youth groups in which they are active.

　　What have the visiting students discovered? A German boy says, “We often think of America only in terms of skyscrapers. Cadillacs, and gangsters. Americans think of Germany only in terms of Hitler and concentration camps. You can’t realize how wrong you are until you see for yourself.”

　　A Los Angeles girl says, “It’s the leaders of the countries who are unable to get along. The people get along just fine.”

　　Observe a two-way student exchange in action. Fred Herschbach, nineteen, spent last year in Germany at the home of George Pfafflin. In turn, Mr. Pfafflin’s son Michael spent a year in the Herschbach home in Texas.

　　Fred, lanky and lively, knew little German when he arrived, but after two months’ study the language began to come to him. School was totally different from what he had expected—much more formal, much harder. Students rose respectfully when the teacher entered the room. They took fourteen subjects instead of the six that are usual in the United States. There were almost no outside activities.

　　Family life, too, was different. The father’s word was law, and all activities revolved around the closely knit family unit rather than the individual. Fred found the food—mostly starches—monotonous at first. Also, he missed having a car.

　　“At home, you pick up some kids in a car and go out and haven good time. In Germany, you walk, but you soon get used to it.”

　　A warm-natured boy, Fred began to make friends as soon as he had mastered enough German to communicate. “I didn’t feel as if I were with foreigners. I felt as I did at home with my own people.” Eventually he was invited to stay at the homes of friends in many of Germany’s major cities. “One’s viewpoint is broadened,” he says, “by living with people who have different habits and backgrounds. You come to appreciate their points of view and realize that it is possible for all people in the world to come closer together. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything.”

　　Meanwhile, in Texas, Mike Pfafflin, a friendly German boy, was also forming independent opinions. “I suppose I should criticize the schools,” he says. “It was far too easy by our standards. But I have to admit that I liked it enormously In Germany we do nothing but study. I think that maybe your schools are better training for citizenship. There ought to be some middle ground between the two.” He took part in many outside activities, including the dramatic group.

　　Mike picked up a favorite adjective of American youth; southern fried chicken was “fabulous,” When expressing a regional point of view, he used the phrase “we Texans.” Summing up his year, he says with feeling, “America is a second home for me from now on. I will love it the rest of my life.”

　　This exciting exchange program was government sponsored at first; now it is in the hands of private agencies, including the American Field Service and the International Christian Youth Exchange. Screening committees make a careful check on exchange students and host homes. To qualify, students must be intelligent, adaptable, outgoing-potential leaders. Each student is matched, as closely as possible, with a young person in another country whose family has the same economic, cultural, and religious background.

　　After their years abroad, all students gather to discuss who, they observed. For visiting students to accept and approve of all they saw would be a defeat for the exchange program. They are supposed to observe evaluate, and come to fair conclusions. Nearly all who visited the United States agreed that they had gained faith in American ideals and deep respect for the U.S brand of democracy. All had made friendship that they were sure would last a life-time. Almost all were struck by the freedom demitted American youth. Many were critical, though, of the indifference to study in American schools, and of Americans’ lack of knowledge about other countries.

　　The opinions of Americans abroad were just as vigorous. A U.S. girl in Vienna: “At home, all we talk about is dating, movies, and clothes. Here we talk about religion, philosophy, and political problems. I am going to miss that.”

　　A U.S boy in Sweden: “I learned to sit at home, read a good book, and gain some knowledge. It I told them this back home, they would think I was a square.”

　　An American girl in Stuttgart, however, was very critical of the German school. “Over here the teacher is king, and you are somewhere far below. Instead of being friend and counselor, as in America the teacher is regarded as a foe—and behaves like it too!”

　　It costs a sponsoring group about a thousand dollars to give an exchange student a year in the United States. Transportation is the major expense, for bed, board, and pocket money are provided by volunteer families. There is also a small amount of federal support for the program.

　　For some time now, attempts have been made to include students from iron curtain countries. But so far the Communists have not allowed their young people to take part in this program which could open their eyes to a different world.

　　In Europe, however, about ten students apply for every place available, in Japan, the ratio is fifty to one. The student exchange program is helping these eager younger citizens of tomorrow learn a lot about the world today.

Exchange students are generally placed in homes that are _____.

This year some twenty-three hundred teen-agers from all over the world will spend about ten months in U.S. homes. They will attend U.S. schools, meet U.S. teen-agers, and form lifelong impressions of the real America. At the same time, about thirteen hundred American teen-agers will go abroad to learn new languages and gain a new understanding of world problems. On returning home they, like others who have participated in the exchange program, will pass along their fresh impression to the youth groups in which they are active.

　　What have the visiting students discovered? A German boy says, “We often think of America only in terms of skyscrapers. Cadillacs, and gangsters. Americans think of Germany only in terms of Hitler and concentration camps. You can’t realize how wrong you are until you see for yourself.”

　　A Los Angeles girl says, “It’s the leaders of the countries who are unable to get along. The people get along just fine.”

　　Observe a two-way student exchange in action. Fred Herschbach, nineteen, spent last year in Germany at the home of George Pfafflin. In turn, Mr. Pfafflin’s son Michael spent a year in the Herschbach home in Texas.

　　Fred, lanky and lively, knew little German when he arrived, but after two months’ study the language began to come to him. School was totally different from what he had expected—much more formal, much harder. Students rose respectfully when the teacher entered the room. They took fourteen subjects instead of the six that are usual in the United States. There were almost no outside activities.

　　Family life, too, was different. The father’s word was law, and all activities revolved around the closely knit family unit rather than the individual. Fred found the food—mostly starches—monotonous at first. Also, he missed having a car.

　　“At home, you pick up some kids in a car and go out and haven good time. In Germany, you walk, but you soon get used to it.”

　　A warm-natured boy, Fred began to make friends as soon as he had mastered enough German to communicate. “I didn’t feel as if I were with foreigners. I felt as I did at home with my own people.” Eventually he was invited to stay at the homes of friends in many of Germany’s major cities. “One’s viewpoint is broadened,” he says, “by living with people who have different habits and backgrounds. You come to appreciate their points of view and realize that it is possible for all people in the world to come closer together. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything.”

　　Meanwhile, in Texas, Mike Pfafflin, a friendly German boy, was also forming independent opinions. “I suppose I should criticize the schools,” he says. “It was far too easy by our standards. But I have to admit that I liked it enormously In Germany we do nothing but study. I think that maybe your schools are better training for citizenship. There ought to be some middle ground between the two.” He took part in many outside activities, including the dramatic group.

　　Mike picked up a favorite adjective of American youth; southern fried chicken was “fabulous,” When expressing a regional point of view, he used the phrase “we Texans.” Summing up his year, he says with feeling, “America is a second home for me from now on. I will love it the rest of my life.”

　　This exciting exchange program was government sponsored at first; now it is in the hands of private agencies, including the American Field Service and the International Christian Youth Exchange. Screening committees make a careful check on exchange students and host homes. To qualify, students must be intelligent, adaptable, outgoing-potential leaders. Each student is matched, as closely as possible, with a young person in another country whose family has the same economic, cultural, and religious background.

　　After their years abroad, all students gather to discuss who, they observed. For visiting students to accept and approve of all they saw would be a defeat for the exchange program. They are supposed to observe evaluate, and come to fair conclusions. Nearly all who visited the United States agreed that they had gained faith in American ideals and deep respect for the U.S brand of democracy. All had made friendship that they were sure would last a life-time. Almost all were struck by the freedom demitted American youth. Many were critical, though, of the indifference to study in American schools, and of Americans’ lack of knowledge about other countries.

　　The opinions of Americans abroad were just as vigorous. A U.S. girl in Vienna: “At home, all we talk about is dating, movies, and clothes. Here we talk about religion, philosophy, and political problems. I am going to miss that.”

　　A U.S boy in Sweden: “I learned to sit at home, read a good book, and gain some knowledge. It I told them this back home, they would think I was a square.”

　　An American girl in Stuttgart, however, was very critical of the German school. “Over here the teacher is king, and you are somewhere far below. Instead of being friend and counselor, as in America the teacher is regarded as a foe—and behaves like it too!”

　　It costs a sponsoring group about a thousand dollars to give an exchange student a year in the United States. Transportation is the major expense, for bed, board, and pocket money are provided by volunteer families. There is also a small amount of federal support for the program.

　　For some time now, attempts have been made to include students from iron curtain countries. But so far the Communists have not allowed their young people to take part in this program which could open their eyes to a different world.

　　In Europe, however, about ten students apply for every place available, in Japan, the ratio is fifty to one. The student exchange program is helping these eager younger citizens of tomorrow learn a lot about the world today.

The greatest value of the program is that each visiting student _____.

This year some twenty-three hundred teen-agers from all over the world will spend about ten months in U.S. homes. They will attend U.S. schools, meet U.S. teen-agers, and form lifelong impressions of the real America. At the same time, about thirteen hundred American teen-agers will go abroad to learn new languages and gain a new understanding of world problems. On returning home they, like others who have participated in the exchange program, will pass along their fresh impression to the youth groups in which they are active.

　　What have the visiting students discovered? A German boy says, “We often think of America only in terms of skyscrapers. Cadillacs, and gangsters. Americans think of Germany only in terms of Hitler and concentration camps. You can’t realize how wrong you are until you see for yourself.”

　　A Los Angeles girl says, “It’s the leaders of the countries who are unable to get along. The people get along just fine.”

　　Observe a two-way student exchange in action. Fred Herschbach, nineteen, spent last year in Germany at the home of George Pfafflin. In turn, Mr. Pfafflin’s son Michael spent a year in the Herschbach home in Texas.

　　Fred, lanky and lively, knew little German when he arrived, but after two months’ study the language began to come to him. School was totally different from what he had expected—much more formal, much harder. Students rose respectfully when the teacher entered the room. They took fourteen subjects instead of the six that are usual in the United States. There were almost no outside activities.

　　Family life, too, was different. The father’s word was law, and all activities revolved around the closely knit family unit rather than the individual. Fred found the food—mostly starches—monotonous at first. Also, he missed having a car.

　　“At home, you pick up some kids in a car and go out and haven good time. In Germany, you walk, but you soon get used to it.”

　　A warm-natured boy, Fred began to make friends as soon as he had mastered enough German to communicate. “I didn’t feel as if I were with foreigners. I felt as I did at home with my own people.” Eventually he was invited to stay at the homes of friends in many of Germany’s major cities. “One’s viewpoint is broadened,” he says, “by living with people who have different habits and backgrounds. You come to appreciate their points of view and realize that it is possible for all people in the world to come closer together. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything.”

　　Meanwhile, in Texas, Mike Pfafflin, a friendly German boy, was also forming independent opinions. “I suppose I should criticize the schools,” he says. “It was far too easy by our standards. But I have to admit that I liked it enormously In Germany we do nothing but study. I think that maybe your schools are better training for citizenship. There ought to be some middle ground between the two.” He took part in many outside activities, including the dramatic group.

　　Mike picked up a favorite adjective of American youth; southern fried chicken was “fabulous,” When expressing a regional point of view, he used the phrase “we Texans.” Summing up his year, he says with feeling, “America is a second home for me from now on. I will love it the rest of my life.”

　　This exciting exchange program was government sponsored at first; now it is in the hands of private agencies, including the American Field Service and the International Christian Youth Exchange. Screening committees make a careful check on exchange students and host homes. To qualify, students must be intelligent, adaptable, outgoing-potential leaders. Each student is matched, as closely as possible, with a young person in another country whose family has the same economic, cultural, and religious background.

　　After their years abroad, all students gather to discuss who, they observed. For visiting students to accept and approve of all they saw would be a defeat for the exchange program. They are supposed to observe evaluate, and come to fair conclusions. Nearly all who visited the United States agreed that they had gained faith in American ideals and deep respect for the U.S brand of democracy. All had made friendship that they were sure would last a life-time. Almost all were struck by the freedom demitted American youth. Many were critical, though, of the indifference to study in American schools, and of Americans’ lack of knowledge about other countries.

　　The opinions of Americans abroad were just as vigorous. A U.S. girl in Vienna: “At home, all we talk about is dating, movies, and clothes. Here we talk about religion, philosophy, and political problems. I am going to miss that.”

　　A U.S boy in Sweden: “I learned to sit at home, read a good book, and gain some knowledge. It I told them this back home, they would think I was a square.”

　　An American girl in Stuttgart, however, was very critical of the German school. “Over here the teacher is king, and you are somewhere far below. Instead of being friend and counselor, as in America the teacher is regarded as a foe—and behaves like it too!”

　　It costs a sponsoring group about a thousand dollars to give an exchange student a year in the United States. Transportation is the major expense, for bed, board, and pocket money are provided by volunteer families. There is also a small amount of federal support for the program.

　　For some time now, attempts have been made to include students from iron curtain countries. But so far the Communists have not allowed their young people to take part in this program which could open their eyes to a different world.

　　In Europe, however, about ten students apply for every place available, in Japan, the ratio is fifty to one. The student exchange program is helping these eager younger citizens of tomorrow learn a lot about the world today.

Fred Herschbach and Mike Pfafflin agreed that _____.

This year some twenty-three hundred teen-agers from all over the world will spend about ten months in U.S. homes. They will attend U.S. schools, meet U.S. teen-agers, and form lifelong impressions of the real America. At the same time, about thirteen hundred American teen-agers will go abroad to learn new languages and gain a new understanding of world problems. On returning home they, like others who have participated in the exchange program, will pass along their fresh impression to the youth groups in which they are active.

　　What have the visiting students discovered? A German boy says, “We often think of America only in terms of skyscrapers. Cadillacs, and gangsters. Americans think of Germany only in terms of Hitler and concentration camps. You can’t realize how wrong you are until you see for yourself.”

　　A Los Angeles girl says, “It’s the leaders of the countries who are unable to get along. The people get along just fine.”

　　Observe a two-way student exchange in action. Fred Herschbach, nineteen, spent last year in Germany at the home of George Pfafflin. In turn, Mr. Pfafflin’s son Michael spent a year in the Herschbach home in Texas.

　　Fred, lanky and lively, knew little German when he arrived, but after two months’ study the language began to come to him. School was totally different from what he had expected—much more formal, much harder. Students rose respectfully when the teacher entered the room. They took fourteen subjects instead of the six that are usual in the United States. There were almost no outside activities.

　　Family life, too, was different. The father’s word was law, and all activities revolved around the closely knit family unit rather than the individual. Fred found the food—mostly starches—monotonous at first. Also, he missed having a car.

　　“At home, you pick up some kids in a car and go out and haven good time. In Germany, you walk, but you soon get used to it.”

　　A warm-natured boy, Fred began to make friends as soon as he had mastered enough German to communicate. “I didn’t feel as if I were with foreigners. I felt as I did at home with my own people.” Eventually he was invited to stay at the homes of friends in many of Germany’s major cities. “One’s viewpoint is broadened,” he says, “by living with people who have different habits and backgrounds. You come to appreciate their points of view and realize that it is possible for all people in the world to come closer together. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything.”

　　Meanwhile, in Texas, Mike Pfafflin, a friendly German boy, was also forming independent opinions. “I suppose I should criticize the schools,” he says. “It was far too easy by our standards. But I have to admit that I liked it enormously In Germany we do nothing but study. I think that maybe your schools are better training for citizenship. There ought to be some middle ground between the two.” He took part in many outside activities, including the dramatic group.

　　Mike picked up a favorite adjective of American youth; southern fried chicken was “fabulous,” When expressing a regional point of view, he used the phrase “we Texans.” Summing up his year, he says with feeling, “America is a second home for me from now on. I will love it the rest of my life.”

　　This exciting exchange program was government sponsored at first; now it is in the hands of private agencies, including the American Field Service and the International Christian Youth Exchange. Screening committees make a careful check on exchange students and host homes. To qualify, students must be intelligent, adaptable, outgoing-potential leaders. Each student is matched, as closely as possible, with a young person in another country whose family has the same economic, cultural, and religious background.

　　After their years abroad, all students gather to discuss who, they observed. For visiting students to accept and approve of all they saw would be a defeat for the exchange program. They are supposed to observe evaluate, and come to fair conclusions. Nearly all who visited the United States agreed that they had gained faith in American ideals and deep respect for the U.S brand of democracy. All had made friendship that they were sure would last a life-time. Almost all were struck by the freedom demitted American youth. Many were critical, though, of the indifference to study in American schools, and of Americans’ lack of knowledge about other countries.

　　The opinions of Americans abroad were just as vigorous. A U.S. girl in Vienna: “At home, all we talk about is dating, movies, and clothes. Here we talk about religion, philosophy, and political problems. I am going to miss that.”

　　A U.S boy in Sweden: “I learned to sit at home, read a good book, and gain some knowledge. It I told them this back home, they would think I was a square.”

　　An American girl in Stuttgart, however, was very critical of the German school. “Over here the teacher is king, and you are somewhere far below. Instead of being friend and counselor, as in America the teacher is regarded as a foe—and behaves like it too!”

　　It costs a sponsoring group about a thousand dollars to give an exchange student a year in the United States. Transportation is the major expense, for bed, board, and pocket money are provided by volunteer families. There is also a small amount of federal support for the program.

　　For some time now, attempts have been made to include students from iron curtain countries. But so far the Communists have not allowed their young people to take part in this program which could open their eyes to a different world.

　　In Europe, however, about ten students apply for every place available, in Japan, the ratio is fifty to one. The student exchange program is helping these eager younger citizens of tomorrow learn a lot about the world today.

The major expense that a group sponsoring an exchange student must meet is _____.

This year some twenty-three hundred teen-agers from all over the world will spend about ten months in U.S. homes. They will attend U.S. schools, meet U.S. teen-agers, and form lifelong impressions of the real America. At the same time, about thirteen hundred American teen-agers will go abroad to learn new languages and gain a new understanding of world problems. On returning home they, like others who have participated in the exchange program, will pass along their fresh impression to the youth groups in which they are active.

　　What have the visiting students discovered? A German boy says, “We often think of America only in terms of skyscrapers. Cadillacs, and gangsters. Americans think of Germany only in terms of Hitler and concentration camps. You can’t realize how wrong you are until you see for yourself.”

　　A Los Angeles girl says, “It’s the leaders of the countries who are unable to get along. The people get along just fine.”

　　Observe a two-way student exchange in action. Fred Herschbach, nineteen, spent last year in Germany at the home of George Pfafflin. In turn, Mr. Pfafflin’s son Michael spent a year in the Herschbach home in Texas.

　　Fred, lanky and lively, knew little German when he arrived, but after two months’ study the language began to come to him. School was totally different from what he had expected—much more formal, much harder. Students rose respectfully when the teacher entered the room. They took fourteen subjects instead of the six that are usual in the United States. There were almost no outside activities.

　　Family life, too, was different. The father’s word was law, and all activities revolved around the closely knit family unit rather than the individual. Fred found the food—mostly starches—monotonous at first. Also, he missed having a car.

　　“At home, you pick up some kids in a car and go out and haven good time. In Germany, you walk, but you soon get used to it.”

　　A warm-natured boy, Fred began to make friends as soon as he had mastered enough German to communicate. “I didn’t feel as if I were with foreigners. I felt as I did at home with my own people.” Eventually he was invited to stay at the homes of friends in many of Germany’s major cities. “One’s viewpoint is broadened,” he says, “by living with people who have different habits and backgrounds. You come to appreciate their points of view and realize that it is possible for all people in the world to come closer together. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything.”

　　Meanwhile, in Texas, Mike Pfafflin, a friendly German boy, was also forming independent opinions. “I suppose I should criticize the schools,” he says. “It was far too easy by our standards. But I have to admit that I liked it enormously In Germany we do nothing but study. I think that maybe your schools are better training for citizenship. There ought to be some middle ground between the two.” He took part in many outside activities, including the dramatic group.

　　Mike picked up a favorite adjective of American youth; southern fried chicken was “fabulous,” When expressing a regional point of view, he used the phrase “we Texans.” Summing up his year, he says with feeling, “America is a second home for me from now on. I will love it the rest of my life.”

　　This exciting exchange program was government sponsored at first; now it is in the hands of private agencies, including the American Field Service and the International Christian Youth Exchange. Screening committees make a careful check on exchange students and host homes. To qualify, students must be intelligent, adaptable, outgoing-potential leaders. Each student is matched, as closely as possible, with a young person in another country whose family has the same economic, cultural, and religious background.

　　After their years abroad, all students gather to discuss who, they observed. For visiting students to accept and approve of all they saw would be a defeat for the exchange program. They are supposed to observe evaluate, and come to fair conclusions. Nearly all who visited the United States agreed that they had gained faith in American ideals and deep respect for the U.S brand of democracy. All had made friendship that they were sure would last a life-time. Almost all were struck by the freedom demitted American youth. Many were critical, though, of the indifference to study in American schools, and of Americans’ lack of knowledge about other countries.

　　The opinions of Americans abroad were just as vigorous. A U.S. girl in Vienna: “At home, all we talk about is dating, movies, and clothes. Here we talk about religion, philosophy, and political problems. I am going to miss that.”

　　A U.S boy in Sweden: “I learned to sit at home, read a good book, and gain some knowledge. It I told them this back home, they would think I was a square.”

　　An American girl in Stuttgart, however, was very critical of the German school. “Over here the teacher is king, and you are somewhere far below. Instead of being friend and counselor, as in America the teacher is regarded as a foe—and behaves like it too!”

　　It costs a sponsoring group about a thousand dollars to give an exchange student a year in the United States. Transportation is the major expense, for bed, board, and pocket money are provided by volunteer families. There is also a small amount of federal support for the program.

　　For some time now, attempts have been made to include students from iron curtain countries. But so far the Communists have not allowed their young people to take part in this program which could open their eyes to a different world.

　　In Europe, however, about ten students apply for every place available, in Japan, the ratio is fifty to one. The student exchange program is helping these eager younger citizens of tomorrow learn a lot about the world today.

It is reasonable to suppose that the author wishes that _____.

Auctions are public sales of goods, conducted by an officially approved auctioneer. He asked the crowed assembled in the auction-room to make offers, or “bids”, for the various items on sale. He encourages buyers to bid higher figures and finally names the highest bidder as the buyer of the goods. This is called “knocking down” the goods, for the bidding ends when the auctioneer bangs a small hammer on a table at which he stands. This is often set on a raised platform called a rostrum.

　　The ancient Romans probably invented sales by auction, and the English word comes from the Latin Autcio, meaning “increase.” The Romans usually sold in this way the spoils taken in war; these sales were called subhasta, meaning “under the spear,” a spear being stuck in the ground as a signal for a crowd to gather, In English in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, goods were often sold “by the candle”; a short candle was lit by the auctioneer, and bids could be made while it stayed alight.

　　Practically all goods whose qualities vary are sold by auction. Among these are coffee, hides, skins, wool, tea, cocoa, furs, spices, fruit and vegetables and wines. Auction sales are also usual for land and property, antique furniture, pictures, rare books, old china and similar works of art. The auction-rooms as Christie’s and Sotheby’s in London and New York are world-famous.

　　An auction is usually advertised beforehand with full particulars of the articles to be sold and where and when they can be viewed by prospective buyers. If the advertisement cannot give full details, catalogues are printed, and each group of goods to be sold together, called a “lot,” is usually given a number. The auctioneer need not begin with Lot I and continue in numerical order; he may wait until he registers the fact that certain dealers are in the room and then produce the lots they are likely to be interested in. The auctioneer’s services are paid for in the form of a percentage of the

Auctions are public sales of goods, conducted by an officially approved auctioneer. He asked the crowed assembled in the auction-room to make offers, or “bids”, for the various items on sale. He encourages buyers to bid higher figures and finally names the highest bidder as the buyer of the goods. This is called “knocking down” the goods, for the bidding ends when the auctioneer bangs a small hammer on a table at which he stands. This is often set on a raised platform called a rostrum.

　　The ancient Romans probably invented sales by auction, and the English word comes from the Latin Autcio, meaning “increase.” The Romans usually sold in this way the spoils taken in war; these sales were called subhasta, meaning “under the spear,” a spear being stuck in the ground as a signal for a crowd to gather, In English in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, goods were often sold “by the candle”; a short candle was lit by the auctioneer, and bids could be made while it stayed alight.

　　Practically all goods whose qualities vary are sold by auction. Among these are coffee, hides, skins, wool, tea, cocoa, furs, spices, fruit and vegetables and wines. Auction sales are also usual for land and property, antique furniture, pictures, rare books, old china and similar works of art. The auction-rooms as Christie’s and Sotheby’s in London and New York are world-famous.

　　An auction is usually advertised beforehand with full particulars of the articles to be sold and where and when they can be viewed by prospective buyers. If the advertisement cannot give full details, catalogues are printed, and each group of goods to be sold together, called a “lot,” is usually given a number. The auctioneer need not begin with Lot I and continue in numerical order; he may wait until he registers the fact that certain dealers are in the room and then produce the lots they are likely to be interested in. The auctioneer’s services are paid for in the form of a percentage of the

Auctions are public sales of goods, conducted by an officially approved auctioneer. He asked the crowed assembled in the auction-room to make offers, or “bids”, for the various items on sale. He encourages buyers to bid higher figures and finally names the highest bidder as the buyer of the goods. This is called “knocking down” the goods, for the bidding ends when the auctioneer bangs a small hammer on a table at which he stands. This is often set on a raised platform called a rostrum.

　　The ancient Romans probably invented sales by auction, and the English word comes from the Latin Autcio, meaning “increase.” The Romans usually sold in this way the spoils taken in war; these sales were called subhasta, meaning “under the spear,” a spear being stuck in the ground as a signal for a crowd to gather, In English in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, goods were often sold “by the candle”; a short candle was lit by the auctioneer, and bids could be made while it stayed alight.

　　Practically all goods whose qualities vary are sold by auction. Among these are coffee, hides, skins, wool, tea, cocoa, furs, spices, fruit and vegetables and wines. Auction sales are also usual for land and property, antique furniture, pictures, rare books, old china and similar works of art. The auction-rooms as Christie’s and Sotheby’s in London and New York are world-famous.

　　An auction is usually advertised beforehand with full particulars of the articles to be sold and where and when they can be viewed by prospective buyers. If the advertisement cannot give full details, catalogues are printed, and each group of goods to be sold together, called a “lot,” is usually given a number. The auctioneer need not begin with Lot I and continue in numerical order; he may wait until he registers the fact that certain dealers are in the room and then produce the lots they are likely to be interested in. The auctioneer’s services are paid for in the form of a percentage of the

When we consider great painters of the past, the study of art and the study of illusion cannot always be separated. By illusion I mean those contrivances of color, line, shape, and forth that lead us to see marks on a flat surface as depicting three-dimensional objects in space. I must emphasize that I am not making a plea, disguised or otherwise, for the exercise of illusionist tricks in painting today, although I am, in fact rather critical of certain theories of non-representational art. But to argue over these theories would be to miss the point. That the discoveries and effects of representation that were the pride of earlier artists have become trivial today I would not deny for a moment. Yet I believe that we are in real danger of losing contact with past masters if we accept the fashionable doctrine that such matters never had anything to do with art. The very reason why the representation of nature can now be considered something commonplace should be of the greatest interest to art historians. Never before has there been an age when the visual image was so cheap in every sense of the word. We are surrounded and assailed by posters and advertisements, comics and magazine illustrations. We see aspects of reality represented on television, postage stamps, and food packages. Painting is taught in school and practiced as a pastime, and many modest amateurs have mastered tricks that would have looked like sheer magic to the 14th?century painter Giotto. Even the crude colored renderings on a cereal box might have made Giotto’s contemporaries gasp. Perhaps there are people who concluded from this that the cereal box is superior to a Giotto; I do not. But I think that the victory and vulgarization of representational skills create a problem for both art historians and critics. In this connection it is instructive to remember the Greek saying that to marvel is the beginning of knowledge and if we cease to marvel we may be in danger of ceasing to know. I believe w

When we consider great painters of the past, the study of art and the study of illusion cannot always be separated. By illusion I mean those contrivances of color, line, shape, and forth that lead us to see marks on a flat surface as depicting three-dimensional objects in space. I must emphasize that I am not making a plea, disguised or otherwise, for the exercise of illusionist tricks in painting today, although I am, in fact rather critical of certain theories of non-representational art. But to argue over these theories would be to miss the point. That the discoveries and effects of representation that were the pride of earlier artists have become trivial today I would not deny for a moment. Yet I believe that we are in real danger of losing contact with past masters if we accept the fashionable doctrine that such matters never had anything to do with art. The very reason why the representation of nature can now be considered something commonplace should be of the greatest interest to art historians. Never before has there been an age when the visual image was so cheap in every sense of the word. We are surrounded and assailed by posters and advertisements, comics and magazine illustrations. We see aspects of reality represented on television, postage stamps, and food packages. Painting is taught in school and practiced as a pastime, and many modest amateurs have mastered tricks that would have looked like sheer magic to the 14th?century painter Giotto. Even the crude colored renderings on a cereal box might have made Giotto’s contemporaries gasp. Perhaps there are people who concluded from this that the cereal box is superior to a Giotto; I do not. But I think that the victory and vulgarization of representational skills create a problem for both art historians and critics. In this connection it is instructive to remember the Greek saying that to marvel is the beginning of knowledge and if we cease to marvel we may be in danger of ceasing to know. I believe w

When we consider great painters of the past, the study of art and the study of illusion cannot always be separated. By illusion I mean those contrivances of color, line, shape, and forth that lead us to see marks on a flat surface as depicting three-dimensional objects in space. I must emphasize that I am not making a plea, disguised or otherwise, for the exercise of illusionist tricks in painting today, although I am, in fact rather critical of certain theories of non-representational art. But to argue over these theories would be to miss the point. That the discoveries and effects of representation that were the pride of earlier artists have become trivial today I would not deny for a moment. Yet I believe that we are in real danger of losing contact with past masters if we accept the fashionable doctrine that such matters never had anything to do with art. The very reason why the representation of nature can now be considered something commonplace should be of the greatest interest to art historians. Never before has there been an age when the visual image was so cheap in every sense of the word. We are surrounded and assailed by posters and advertisements, comics and magazine illustrations. We see aspects of reality represented on television, postage stamps, and food packages. Painting is taught in school and practiced as a pastime, and many modest amateurs have mastered tricks that would have looked like sheer magic to the 14th?century painter Giotto. Even the crude colored renderings on a cereal box might have made Giotto’s contemporaries gasp. Perhaps there are people who concluded from this that the cereal box is superior to a Giotto; I do not. But I think that the victory and vulgarization of representational skills create a problem for both art historians and critics. In this connection it is instructive to remember the Greek saying that to marvel is the beginning of knowledge and if we cease to marvel we may be in danger of ceasing to know. I believe w

When we consider great painters of the past, the study of art and the study of illusion cannot always be separated. By illusion I mean those contrivances of color, line, shape, and forth that lead us to see marks on a flat surface as depicting three-dimensional objects in space. I must emphasize that I am not making a plea, disguised or otherwise, for the exercise of illusionist tricks in painting today, although I am, in fact rather critical of certain theories of non-representational art. But to argue over these theories would be to miss the point. That the discoveries and effects of representation that were the pride of earlier artists have become trivial today I would not deny for a moment. Yet I believe that we are in real danger of losing contact with past masters if we accept the fashionable doctrine that such matters never had anything to do with art. The very reason why the representation of nature can now be considered something commonplace should be of the greatest interest to art historians. Never before has there been an age when the visual image was so cheap in every sense of the word. We are surrounded and assailed by posters and advertisements, comics and magazine illustrations. We see aspects of reality represented on television, postage stamps, and food packages. Painting is taught in school and practiced as a pastime, and many modest amateurs have mastered tricks that would have looked like sheer magic to the 14th?century painter Giotto. Even the crude colored renderings on a cereal box might have made Giotto’s contemporaries gasp. Perhaps there are people who concluded from this that the cereal box is superior to a Giotto; I do not. But I think that the victory and vulgarization of representational skills create a problem for both art historians and critics. In this connection it is instructive to remember the Greek saying that to marvel is the beginning of knowledge and if we cease to marvel we may be in danger of ceasing to know. I believe w

When we consider great painters of the past, the study of art and the study of illusion cannot always be separated. By illusion I mean those contrivances of color, line, shape, and forth that lead us to see marks on a flat surface as depicting three-dimensional objects in space. I must emphasize that I am not making a plea, disguised or otherwise, for the exercise of illusionist tricks in painting today, although I am, in fact rather critical of certain theories of non-representational art. But to argue over these theories would be to miss the point. That the discoveries and effects of representation that were the pride of earlier artists have become trivial today I would not deny for a moment. Yet I believe that we are in real danger of losing contact with past masters if we accept the fashionable doctrine that such matters never had anything to do with art. The very reason why the representation of nature can now be considered something commonplace should be of the greatest interest to art historians. Never before has there been an age when the visual image was so cheap in every sense of the word. We are surrounded and assailed by posters and advertisements, comics and magazine illustrations. We see aspects of reality represented on television, postage stamps, and food packages. Painting is taught in school and practiced as a pastime, and many modest amateurs have mastered tricks that would have looked like sheer magic to the 14th?century painter Giotto. Even the crude colored renderings on a cereal box might have made Giotto’s contemporaries gasp. Perhaps there are people who concluded from this that the cereal box is superior to a Giotto; I do not. But I think that the victory and vulgarization of representational skills create a problem for both art historians and critics. In this connection it is instructive to remember the Greek saying that to marvel is the beginning of knowledge and if we cease to marvel we may be in danger of ceasing to know. I believe w

When we consider great painters of the past, the study of art and the study of illusion cannot always be separated. By illusion I mean those contrivances of color, line, shape, and forth that lead us to see marks on a flat surface as depicting three-dimensional objects in space. I must emphasize that I am not making a plea, disguised or otherwise, for the exercise of illusionist tricks in painting today, although I am, in fact rather critical of certain theories of non-representational art. But to argue over these theories would be to miss the point. That the discoveries and effects of representation that were the pride of earlier artists have become trivial today I would not deny for a moment. Yet I believe that we are in real danger of losing contact with past masters if we accept the fashionable doctrine that such matters never had anything to do with art. The very reason why the representation of nature can now be considered something commonplace should be of the greatest interest to art historians. Never before has there been an age when the visual image was so cheap in every sense of the word. We are surrounded and assailed by posters and advertisements, comics and magazine illustrations. We see aspects of reality represented on television, postage stamps, and food packages. Painting is taught in school and practiced as a pastime, and many modest amateurs have mastered tricks that would have looked like sheer magic to the 14th?century painter Giotto. Even the crude colored renderings on a cereal box might have made Giotto’s contemporaries gasp. Perhaps there are people who concluded from this that the cereal box is superior to a Giotto; I do not. But I think that the victory and vulgarization of representational skills create a problem for both art historians and critics. In this connection it is instructive to remember the Greek saying that to marvel is the beginning of knowledge and if we cease to marvel we may be in danger of ceasing to know. I believe w

When we consider great painters of the past, the study of art and the study of illusion cannot always be separated. By illusion I mean those contrivances of color, line, shape, and forth that lead us to see marks on a flat surface as depicting three-dimensional objects in space. I must emphasize that I am not making a plea, disguised or otherwise, for the exercise of illusionist tricks in painting today, although I am, in fact rather critical of certain theories of non-representational art. But to argue over these theories would be to miss the point. That the discoveries and effects of representation that were the pride of earlier artists have become trivial today I would not deny for a moment. Yet I believe that we are in real danger of losing contact with past masters if we accept the fashionable doctrine that such matters never had anything to do with art. The very reason why the representation of nature can now be considered something commonplace should be of the greatest interest to art historians. Never before has there been an age when the visual image was so cheap in every sense of the word. We are surrounded and assailed by posters and advertisements, comics and magazine illustrations. We see aspects of reality represented on television, postage stamps, and food packages. Painting is taught in school and practiced as a pastime, and many modest amateurs have mastered tricks that would have looked like sheer magic to the 14th?century painter Giotto. Even the crude colored renderings on a cereal box might have made Giotto’s contemporaries gasp. Perhaps there are people who concluded from this that the cereal box is superior to a Giotto; I do not. But I think that the victory and vulgarization of representational skills create a problem for both art historians and critics. In this connection it is instructive to remember the Greek saying that to marvel is the beginning of knowledge and if we cease to marvel we may be in danger of ceasing to know. I believe w

Australia’s frogs are having trouble finding love. Traffic noise and other sounds of city life, such as air conditioners and construction noise, are drowning out the mating calls of male frogs in urban areas, 1eading to a sharp drop in frog populations. But, in the first study of its kind, Parris, a scientist at the University of Melbourne has found that some frogs have figured out a way to compensate for human interference in their love lives.

　　A male southern brown tree frog sends out a mating call when he’s looking for a date. It is music to the ears of a female southern brown tree frog. But, add the sounds of nearby traffic and the message just is not going out. Parris spent seven years studying frogs around Melbourne. She says some frogs have come up with an interesting strategy for making themselves heard.

　　“We found that it’s changing the pitch of its call, so going higher up, up the frequency spectrum, being higher and squeakier, further away from the traffic noise and this increases the distance over which it can be for heard,” Parris said.

　　The old call is lower in pitch. The new one is higher in pitch.

　　Now, that may sound like a pretty simple solution. But, changing their calls to cope with a noisy environment is actually quite extraordinary for frogs. And while the males have figured out how to make themselves heard above the noise, Parris says it may not be what the females are looking for.

　　“When females have a choice between two males calling, they tend to select the one that calls at a lower frequency because, in frogs, the frequency of a call is related to body size. So, the bigger frogs tend to call lower,” she explained. “And so they also tend to be the older frogs, the guys perhaps with more experience, they know what they’re doing and the women are attracted to those.”

　　Frog populations in Melbourne have dropped considerably since Parris began her research, but it is not just because of noise. Much o

Australia’s frogs are having trouble finding love. Traffic noise and other sounds of city life, such as air conditioners and construction noise, are drowning out the mating calls of male frogs in urban areas, 1eading to a sharp drop in frog populations. But, in the first study of its kind, Parris, a scientist at the University of Melbourne has found that some frogs have figured out a way to compensate for human interference in their love lives.

　　A male southern brown tree frog sends out a mating call when he’s looking for a date. It is music to the ears of a female southern brown tree frog. But, add the sounds of nearby traffic and the message just is not going out. Parris spent seven years studying frogs around Melbourne. She says some frogs have come up with an interesting strategy for making themselves heard.

　　“We found that it’s changing the pitch of its call, so going higher up, up the frequency spectrum, being higher and squeakier, further away from the traffic noise and this increases the distance over which it can be for heard,” Parris said.

　　The old call is lower in pitch. The new one is higher in pitch.

　　Now, that may sound like a pretty simple solution. But, changing their calls to cope with a noisy environment is actually quite extraordinary for frogs. And while the males have figured out how to make themselves heard above the noise, Parris says it may not be what the females are looking for.

　　“When females have a choice between two males calling, they tend to select the one that calls at a lower frequency because, in frogs, the frequency of a call is related to body size. So, the bigger frogs tend to call lower,” she explained. “And so they also tend to be the older frogs, the guys perhaps with more experience, they know what they’re doing and the women are attracted to those.”

　　Frog populations in Melbourne have dropped considerably since Parris began her research, but it is not just because of noise. Much o

Australia’s frogs are having trouble finding love. Traffic noise and other sounds of city life, such as air conditioners and construction noise, are drowning out the mating calls of male frogs in urban areas, 1eading to a sharp drop in frog populations. But, in the first study of its kind, Parris, a scientist at the University of Melbourne has found that some frogs have figured out a way to compensate for human interference in their love lives.

　　A male southern brown tree frog sends out a mating call when he’s looking for a date. It is music to the ears of a female southern brown tree frog. But, add the sounds of nearby traffic and the message just is not going out. Parris spent seven years studying frogs around Melbourne. She says some frogs have come up with an interesting strategy for making themselves heard.

　　“We found that it’s changing the pitch of its call, so going higher up, up the frequency spectrum, being higher and squeakier, further away from the traffic noise and this increases the distance over which it can be for heard,” Parris said.

　　The old call is lower in pitch. The new one is higher in pitch.

　　Now, that may sound like a pretty simple solution. But, changing their calls to cope with a noisy environment is actually quite extraordinary for frogs. And while the males have figured out how to make themselves heard above the noise, Parris says it may not be what the females are looking for.

　　“When females have a choice between two males calling, they tend to select the one that calls at a lower frequency because, in frogs, the frequency of a call is related to body size. So, the bigger frogs tend to call lower,” she explained. “And so they also tend to be the older frogs, the guys perhaps with more experience, they know what they’re doing and the women are attracted to those.”

　　Frog populations in Melbourne have dropped considerably since Parris began her research, but it is not just because of noise. Much o

Australia’s frogs are having trouble finding love. Traffic noise and other sounds of city life, such as air conditioners and construction noise, are drowning out the mating calls of male frogs in urban areas, 1eading to a sharp drop in frog populations. But, in the first study of its kind, Parris, a scientist at the University of Melbourne has found that some frogs have figured out a way to compensate for human interference in their love lives.

　　A male southern brown tree frog sends out a mating call when he’s looking for a date. It is music to the ears of a female southern brown tree frog. But, add the sounds of nearby traffic and the message just is not going out. Parris spent seven years studying frogs around Melbourne. She says some frogs have come up with an interesting strategy for making themselves heard.

　　“We found that it’s changing the pitch of its call, so going higher up, up the frequency spectrum, being higher and squeakier, further away from the traffic noise and this increases the distance over which it can be for heard,” Parris said.

　　The old call is lower in pitch. The new one is higher in pitch.

　　Now, that may sound like a pretty simple solution. But, changing their calls to cope with a noisy environment is actually quite extraordinary for frogs. And while the males have figured out how to make themselves heard above the noise, Parris says it may not be what the females are looking for.

　　“When females have a choice between two males calling, they tend to select the one that calls at a lower frequency because, in frogs, the frequency of a call is related to body size. So, the bigger frogs tend to call lower,” she explained. “And so they also tend to be the older frogs, the guys perhaps with more experience, they know what they’re doing and the women are attracted to those.”

　　Frog populations in Melbourne have dropped considerably since Parris began her research, but it is not just because of noise. Much o

Australia’s frogs are having trouble finding love. Traffic noise and other sounds of city life, such as air conditioners and construction noise, are drowning out the mating calls of male frogs in urban areas, 1eading to a sharp drop in frog populations. But, in the first study of its kind, Parris, a scientist at the University of Melbourne has found that some frogs have figured out a way to compensate for human interference in their love lives.

　　A male southern brown tree frog sends out a mating call when he’s looking for a date. It is music to the ears of a female southern brown tree frog. But, add the sounds of nearby traffic and the message just is not going out. Parris spent seven years studying frogs around Melbourne. She says some frogs have come up with an interesting strategy for making themselves heard.

　　“We found that it’s changing the pitch of its call, so going higher up, up the frequency spectrum, being higher and squeakier, further away from the traffic noise and this increases the distance over which it can be for heard,” Parris said.

　　The old call is lower in pitch. The new one is higher in pitch.

　　Now, that may sound like a pretty simple solution. But, changing their calls to cope with a noisy environment is actually quite extraordinary for frogs. And while the males have figured out how to make themselves heard above the noise, Parris says it may not be what the females are looking for.

　　“When females have a choice between two males calling, they tend to select the one that calls at a lower frequency because, in frogs, the frequency of a call is related to body size. So, the bigger frogs tend to call lower,” she explained. “And so they also tend to be the older frogs, the guys perhaps with more experience, they know what they’re doing and the women are attracted to those.”

　　Frog populations in Melbourne have dropped considerably since Parris began her research, but it is not just because of noise. Much o

A closer observer of the small screen once called it a “vast wasteland of violence, sadism and murder, private eyes, gangsters and more violence - and cartoons.” That is how Newton Minow, a US television regulator, described it in 1961.

　　Since than television language has become more colourful, violence more explicit and sex more prevalent.?Lady Chatterley’s Lover has moved from the banned book shelf to a classic BBC serial.

　　Concern over such changing standards has shaped our view of television—and masked its broader influence in developing countries.

　　To illustrate its effects, Kenny cites the case of Brazil. When television there began to show a steady diet of local soaps in the 1970s, Brazilian women typically had five or more children and were trapped in poverty. As the popularity of the soaps grew, birth rates fell

　　According to researchers, 72% of the leading female characters in the main soaps had no children and only 7% had more than one. One study calculated that such soaps had the same effect on fertility rates as keeping girls in school for five years more than normal.

　　It is not just birth rates that are affected. Kenny notes: “Kids who watch TV out of school, according to a World Bank survey of young people in the shanty towns of Fortaleza in Brazil, are considerably less likely to consume drugs.”

　　Television appears to have more power to reduce youth drug use than the strictures of an educated mother and Brazilian soaps presenting educated urban woman running their own businesses are thought to be compelling role models.

　　Television can also improve health, In Ghana a soap opera line that warned mothers they were feeding their children “more than just rice” if they did not wash their hands after defecating was followed by a seemingly permanent improvement in personal hygiene.

　　Why do such changes happen? Simple, says Kenny: soap operas, whether local versions of Ugly Betty or vintage imports o

A closer observer of the small screen once called it a “vast wasteland of violence, sadism and murder, private eyes, gangsters and more violence - and cartoons.” That is how Newton Minow, a US television regulator, described it in 1961.

　　Since than television language has become more colourful, violence more explicit and sex more prevalent.?Lady Chatterley’s Lover has moved from the banned book shelf to a classic BBC serial.

　　Concern over such changing standards has shaped our view of television—and masked its broader influence in developing countries.

　　To illustrate its effects, Kenny cites the case of Brazil. When television there began to show a steady diet of local soaps in the 1970s, Brazilian women typically had five or more children and were trapped in poverty. As the popularity of the soaps grew, birth rates fell

　　According to researchers, 72% of the leading female characters in the main soaps had no children and only 7% had more than one. One study calculated that such soaps had the same effect on fertility rates as keeping girls in school for five years more than normal.

　　It is not just birth rates that are affected. Kenny notes: “Kids who watch TV out of school, according to a World Bank survey of young people in the shanty towns of Fortaleza in Brazil, are considerably less likely to consume drugs.”

　　Television appears to have more power to reduce youth drug use than the strictures of an educated mother and Brazilian soaps presenting educated urban woman running their own businesses are thought to be compelling role models.

　　Television can also improve health, In Ghana a soap opera line that warned mothers they were feeding their children “more than just rice” if they did not wash their hands after defecating was followed by a seemingly permanent improvement in personal hygiene.

　　Why do such changes happen? Simple, says Kenny: soap operas, whether local versions of Ugly Betty or vintage imports o

A closer observer of the small screen once called it a “vast wasteland of violence, sadism and murder, private eyes, gangsters and more violence - and cartoons.” That is how Newton Minow, a US television regulator, described it in 1961.

　　Since than television language has become more colourful, violence more explicit and sex more prevalent.?Lady Chatterley’s Lover has moved from the banned book shelf to a classic BBC serial.

　　Concern over such changing standards has shaped our view of television—and masked its broader influence in developing countries.

　　To illustrate its effects, Kenny cites the case of Brazil. When television there began to show a steady diet of local soaps in the 1970s, Brazilian women typically had five or more children and were trapped in poverty. As the popularity of the soaps grew, birth rates fell

　　According to researchers, 72% of the leading female characters in the main soaps had no children and only 7% had more than one. One study calculated that such soaps had the same effect on fertility rates as keeping girls in school for five years more than normal.

　　It is not just birth rates that are affected. Kenny notes: “Kids who watch TV out of school, according to a World Bank survey of young people in the shanty towns of Fortaleza in Brazil, are considerably less likely to consume drugs.”

　　Television appears to have more power to reduce youth drug use than the strictures of an educated mother and Brazilian soaps presenting educated urban woman running their own businesses are thought to be compelling role models.

　　Television can also improve health, In Ghana a soap opera line that warned mothers they were feeding their children “more than just rice” if they did not wash their hands after defecating was followed by a seemingly permanent improvement in personal hygiene.

　　Why do such changes happen? Simple, says Kenny: soap operas, whether local versions of Ugly Betty or vintage imports o

A closer observer of the small screen once called it a “vast wasteland of violence, sadism and murder, private eyes, gangsters and more violence - and cartoons.” That is how Newton Minow, a US television regulator, described it in 1961.

　　Since than television language has become more colourful, violence more explicit and sex more prevalent.?Lady Chatterley’s Lover has moved from the banned book shelf to a classic BBC serial.

　　Concern over such changing standards has shaped our view of television—and masked its broader influence in developing countries.

　　To illustrate its effects, Kenny cites the case of Brazil. When television there began to show a steady diet of local soaps in the 1970s, Brazilian women typically had five or more children and were trapped in poverty. As the popularity of the soaps grew, birth rates fell

　　According to researchers, 72% of the leading female characters in the main soaps had no children and only 7% had more than one. One study calculated that such soaps had the same effect on fertility rates as keeping girls in school for five years more than normal.

　　It is not just birth rates that are affected. Kenny notes: “Kids who watch TV out of school, according to a World Bank survey of young people in the shanty towns of Fortaleza in Brazil, are considerably less likely to consume drugs.”

　　Television appears to have more power to reduce youth drug use than the strictures of an educated mother and Brazilian soaps presenting educated urban woman running their own businesses are thought to be compelling role models.

　　Television can also improve health, In Ghana a soap opera line that warned mothers they were feeding their children “more than just rice” if they did not wash their hands after defecating was followed by a seemingly permanent improvement in personal hygiene.

　　Why do such changes happen? Simple, says Kenny: soap operas, whether local versions of Ugly Betty or vintage imports o

A closer observer of the small screen once called it a “vast wasteland of violence, sadism and murder, private eyes, gangsters and more violence - and cartoons.” That is how Newton Minow, a US television regulator, described it in 1961.

　　Since than television language has become more colourful, violence more explicit and sex more prevalent.?Lady Chatterley’s Lover has moved from the banned book shelf to a classic BBC serial.

　　Concern over such changing standards has shaped our view of television—and masked its broader influence in developing countries.

　　To illustrate its effects, Kenny cites the case of Brazil. When television there began to show a steady diet of local soaps in the 1970s, Brazilian women typically had five or more children and were trapped in poverty. As the popularity of the soaps grew, birth rates fell

　　According to researchers, 72% of the leading female characters in the main soaps had no children and only 7% had more than one. One study calculated that such soaps had the same effect on fertility rates as keeping girls in school for five years more than normal.

　　It is not just birth rates that are affected. Kenny notes: “Kids who watch TV out of school, according to a World Bank survey of young people in the shanty towns of Fortaleza in Brazil, are considerably less likely to consume drugs.”

　　Television appears to have more power to reduce youth drug use than the strictures of an educated mother and Brazilian soaps presenting educated urban woman running their own businesses are thought to be compelling role models.

　　Television can also improve health, In Ghana a soap opera line that warned mothers they were feeding their children “more than just rice” if they did not wash their hands after defecating was followed by a seemingly permanent improvement in personal hygiene.

　　Why do such changes happen? Simple, says Kenny: soap operas, whether local versions of Ugly Betty or vintage imports o

In its modern form the concept of “literature” did not emerge earlier than the eighteenth century and was not fully developed until the nineteenth century. Yet the conditions for its emergence had been developing since the Renaissance. The word itself came into English use in the fourteenth century, following French and Latin precedents; its root was Latin?littera, a letter of the alphabet.?Litterature, in the common early spelling, was then in effect a condition of reading: of being able to read and of having read. It was often close to the sense of modern?literacy, which was not in the language until the late nineteenth century, its introduction in part made necessary by the movement of?literature?to a different sense. The normal adjective associated with literature was?literate. Literary appeared in the sense of reading ability and experience in the seventeenth century, and did not acquire its specialized modern meaning until the eighteenth century.

　　Literature?as a new category was then a specialization of the area formerly categorized as?rhetoric?and?grammar: a specialization to reading and, in the material context of the development of printing, to the printed word and especially the book. It was eventually to become a more general category than?poetry?or the earlier?poesy, which had been general terms for imaginative composition, but which in relation to the development of?literaturebecame predominantly specialized, from the seventeenth century, to metrical composition and especially written and printed metrical composition. But literature was never primarily the active composition─the “making”─which poetry had described. As reading rather than writing, it was a category of a different kind. The characteristic use can be seen in Bacon “learned in all literature and erudition, divine and humane”─and as late as Johnson “he had probably more than common literature, as his son addresses him in one of his most elaborate Latin poems.”?Literature, that is

In its modern form the concept of “literature” did not emerge earlier than the eighteenth century and was not fully developed until the nineteenth century. Yet the conditions for its emergence had been developing since the Renaissance. The word itself came into English use in the fourteenth century, following French and Latin precedents; its root was Latin?littera, a letter of the alphabet.?Litterature, in the common early spelling, was then in effect a condition of reading: of being able to read and of having read. It was often close to the sense of modern?literacy, which was not in the language until the late nineteenth century, its introduction in part made necessary by the movement of?literature?to a different sense. The normal adjective associated with literature was?literate. Literary appeared in the sense of reading ability and experience in the seventeenth century, and did not acquire its specialized modern meaning until the eighteenth century.

　　Literature?as a new category was then a specialization of the area formerly categorized as?rhetoric?and?grammar: a specialization to reading and, in the material context of the development of printing, to the printed word and especially the book. It was eventually to become a more general category than?poetry?or the earlier?poesy, which had been general terms for imaginative composition, but which in relation to the development of?literaturebecame predominantly specialized, from the seventeenth century, to metrical composition and especially written and printed metrical composition. But literature was never primarily the active composition─the “making”─which poetry had described. As reading rather than writing, it was a category of a different kind. The characteristic use can be seen in Bacon “learned in all literature and erudition, divine and humane”─and as late as Johnson “he had probably more than common literature, as his son addresses him in one of his most elaborate Latin poems.”?Literature, that is

In its modern form the concept of “literature” did not emerge earlier than the eighteenth century and was not fully developed until the nineteenth century. Yet the conditions for its emergence had been developing since the Renaissance. The word itself came into English use in the fourteenth century, following French and Latin precedents; its root was Latin?littera, a letter of the alphabet.?Litterature, in the common early spelling, was then in effect a condition of reading: of being able to read and of having read. It was often close to the sense of modern?literacy, which was not in the language until the late nineteenth century, its introduction in part made necessary by the movement of?literature?to a different sense. The normal adjective associated with literature was?literate. Literary appeared in the sense of reading ability and experience in the seventeenth century, and did not acquire its specialized modern meaning until the eighteenth century.

　　Literature?as a new category was then a specialization of the area formerly categorized as?rhetoric?and?grammar: a specialization to reading and, in the material context of the development of printing, to the printed word and especially the book. It was eventually to become a more general category than?poetry?or the earlier?poesy, which had been general terms for imaginative composition, but which in relation to the development of?literaturebecame predominantly specialized, from the seventeenth century, to metrical composition and especially written and printed metrical composition. But literature was never primarily the active composition─the “making”─which poetry had described. As reading rather than writing, it was a category of a different kind. The characteristic use can be seen in Bacon “learned in all literature and erudition, divine and humane”─and as late as Johnson “he had probably more than common literature, as his son addresses him in one of his most elaborate Latin poems.”?Literature, that is

In its modern form the concept of “literature” did not emerge earlier than the eighteenth century and was not fully developed until the nineteenth century. Yet the conditions for its emergence had been developing since the Renaissance. The word itself came into English use in the fourteenth century, following French and Latin precedents; its root was Latin?littera, a letter of the alphabet.?Litterature, in the common early spelling, was then in effect a condition of reading: of being able to read and of having read. It was often close to the sense of modern?literacy, which was not in the language until the late nineteenth century, its introduction in part made necessary by the movement of?literature?to a different sense. The normal adjective associated with literature was?literate. Literary appeared in the sense of reading ability and experience in the seventeenth century, and did not acquire its specialized modern meaning until the eighteenth century.

　　Literature?as a new category was then a specialization of the area formerly categorized as?rhetoric?and?grammar: a specialization to reading and, in the material context of the development of printing, to the printed word and especially the book. It was eventually to become a more general category than?poetry?or the earlier?poesy, which had been general terms for imaginative composition, but which in relation to the development of?literaturebecame predominantly specialized, from the seventeenth century, to metrical composition and especially written and printed metrical composition. But literature was never primarily the active composition─the “making”─which poetry had described. As reading rather than writing, it was a category of a different kind. The characteristic use can be seen in Bacon “learned in all literature and erudition, divine and humane”─and as late as Johnson “he had probably more than common literature, as his son addresses him in one of his most elaborate Latin poems.”?Literature, that is

In its modern form the concept of “literature” did not emerge earlier than the eighteenth century and was not fully developed until the nineteenth century. Yet the conditions for its emergence had been developing since the Renaissance. The word itself came into English use in the fourteenth century, following French and Latin precedents; its root was Latin?littera, a letter of the alphabet.?Litterature, in the common early spelling, was then in effect a condition of reading: of being able to read and of having read. It was often close to the sense of modern?literacy, which was not in the language until the late nineteenth century, its introduction in part made necessary by the movement of?literature?to a different sense. The normal adjective associated with literature was?literate. Literary appeared in the sense of reading ability and experience in the seventeenth century, and did not acquire its specialized modern meaning until the eighteenth century.

　　Literature?as a new category was then a specialization of the area formerly categorized as?rhetoric?and?grammar: a specialization to reading and, in the material context of the development of printing, to the printed word and especially the book. It was eventually to become a more general category than?poetry?or the earlier?poesy, which had been general terms for imaginative composition, but which in relation to the development of?literaturebecame predominantly specialized, from the seventeenth century, to metrical composition and especially written and printed metrical composition. But literature was never primarily the active composition─the “making”─which poetry had described. As reading rather than writing, it was a category of a different kind. The characteristic use can be seen in Bacon “learned in all literature and erudition, divine and humane”─and as late as Johnson “he had probably more than common literature, as his son addresses him in one of his most elaborate Latin poems.”?Literature, that is

The nation′s capital city Washington and New York are located in ( )

Which of the following plays deals with the story that a linguist trains a flower girl to speak the SO-called civilized English？( )

Great Expectation was written by ( )

The words “toys， walks， John′s” can be examples of( )

Pygmalion was written by ( )

How many syllables does the word “syllable” have？

The Catcher in the Rye is written by( )

There are some reasons for the increasing of the Australia’s economy，except( )

In 1066， ( ) landed in England and built the Norman Empire.

( )is said to be the home ofgolf.

The truth is that it is only by studying history( )we can learn what to expect in the future.

The longest river in Britain is ( ).

A reference in a literary work to a person， a place or a thing in history or another work of literary is an ( ) .

Which of the following is regarded as the"Declaration of Intellectual Independence"?

The Commonwealth of Australia is a Federation with six states and two trritories，which are Northern Territory and( ).

Which of the following is not one of the leading agricultural exports of Australia?

Don Juan was written by ( )

The aim of President Roosevelt’s New Deal was to “save American ( )”

( ) is often described as “father of modem linguistics”.

The Renaissance was a European phenomenon originated in ( )

Which of the following is a blending word？

Which of the following is Thomas Hardy′sbest-known novel?

The Midwest is America′s most important ( ) area.

Price of the houses( )according to the positions and surrounding environment.

Which of the following is NOT a “case” in English？

Among the following， ( ) is NOT one of the functions of adult′s language according to Halliday.

Psycholinguistics investigates the interrelation of language and ( )

Modern technology and science have produced a wealth of new materials and new ways of using old materials. For the artist this means wider opportunities. There is no doubt that the limitations of materials and nature of tools both restrict and shape a man’s work. Observe how the development of plastics and light metals along with new methods of welding has changed the direction of sculpture. Transparent plastic materials allow one to look through an object, to see its various sides superimposed on each other (as in Cubism or in an X-ray). Today, welding is as prevalent as casting was in the past. This new method encourages open designs, where surrounding and intervening space becomes as important as form itself.

　　More ambiguous than other scientific inventions familiar to modern artists, but no less influential, are the psychoanalytic studies of Freud and his followers, discoveries that have infiltrated recent art, especially Surrealism. The Surrealists, in their struggle to escape the monotony and frustrations of everyday life, claimed that dreams were the only hope. Turning to the irrational world of their unconscious, they banished all time barriers and moral judgements to combine disconnected dream experiences from the past, present and intervening psychological states. The Surrealists were concerned with overlapping emotions more than with overlapping forms. Their paintings often become segmented capsules of associative experiences. For them, obsessive and often unrelated images replaced the direct emotional message of expressionism. They did not need to smash paint and canvas: they went beyond this to smash the whole continuity of logical thought.

　　There is little doubt that contemporary art has taken much from contemporary life. In a period when science has made revolutionary strides, artists in their studios have not been unaware of scientists in their laboratories. But this has rarely been a one-way street. Painters and sculptors, through admittedly influenced by modern science, have also molded and changed our world. If break-up has been a vital part of their expression, it has not always been a symbol of destruction. Quite the contrary: it has been used to examine more fully, to penetrate more deeply, to analyze more thoroughly, to enlarge, isolate and make more familiar certain aspects of lire that earlier we were apt to neglect. In addition, it sometimes provides rich multiple experiences so organized as not merely to reflect our world, but in fact to interpret it.

According to the passage, it is true that _____.

Modern technology and science have produced a wealth of new materials and new ways of using old materials. For the artist this means wider opportunities. There is no doubt that the limitations of materials and nature of tools both restrict and shape a man’s work. Observe how the development of plastics and light metals along with new methods of welding has changed the direction of sculpture. Transparent plastic materials allow one to look through an object, to see its various sides superimposed on each other (as in Cubism or in an X-ray). Today, welding is as prevalent as casting was in the past. This new method encourages open designs, where surrounding and intervening space becomes as important as form itself.

　　More ambiguous than other scientific inventions familiar to modern artists, but no less influential, are the psychoanalytic studies of Freud and his followers, discoveries that have infiltrated recent art, especially Surrealism. The Surrealists, in their struggle to escape the monotony and frustrations of everyday life, claimed that dreams were the only hope. Turning to the irrational world of their unconscious, they banished all time barriers and moral judgements to combine disconnected dream experiences from the past, present and intervening psychological states. The Surrealists were concerned with overlapping emotions more than with overlapping forms. Their paintings often become segmented capsules of associative experiences. For them, obsessive and often unrelated images replaced the direct emotional message of expressionism. They did not need to smash paint and canvas: they went beyond this to smash the whole continuity of logical thought.

　　There is little doubt that contemporary art has taken much from contemporary life. In a period when science has made revolutionary strides, artists in their studios have not been unaware of scientists in their laboratories. But this has rarely been a one-way street. Painters and sculptors, through admittedly influenced by modern science, have also molded and changed our world. If break-up has been a vital part of their expression, it has not always been a symbol of destruction. Quite the contrary: it has been used to examine more fully, to penetrate more deeply, to analyze more thoroughly, to enlarge, isolate and make more familiar certain aspects of lire that earlier we were apt to neglect. In addition, it sometimes provides rich multiple experiences so organized as not merely to reflect our world, but in fact to interpret it.

The welding techniques _____.

Modern technology and science have produced a wealth of new materials and new ways of using old materials. For the artist this means wider opportunities. There is no doubt that the limitations of materials and nature of tools both restrict and shape a man’s work. Observe how the development of plastics and light metals along with new methods of welding has changed the direction of sculpture. Transparent plastic materials allow one to look through an object, to see its various sides superimposed on each other (as in Cubism or in an X-ray). Today, welding is as prevalent as casting was in the past. This new method encourages open designs, where surrounding and intervening space becomes as important as form itself.

　　More ambiguous than other scientific inventions familiar to modern artists, but no less influential, are the psychoanalytic studies of Freud and his followers, discoveries that have infiltrated recent art, especially Surrealism. The Surrealists, in their struggle to escape the monotony and frustrations of everyday life, claimed that dreams were the only hope. Turning to the irrational world of their unconscious, they banished all time barriers and moral judgements to combine disconnected dream experiences from the past, present and intervening psychological states. The Surrealists were concerned with overlapping emotions more than with overlapping forms. Their paintings often become segmented capsules of associative experiences. For them, obsessive and often unrelated images replaced the direct emotional message of expressionism. They did not need to smash paint and canvas: they went beyond this to smash the whole continuity of logical thought.

　　There is little doubt that contemporary art has taken much from contemporary life. In a period when science has made revolutionary strides, artists in their studios have not been unaware of scientists in their laboratories. But this has rarely been a one-way street. Painters and sculptors, through admittedly influenced by modern science, have also molded and changed our world. If break-up has been a vital part of their expression, it has not always been a symbol of destruction. Quite the contrary: it has been used to examine more fully, to penetrate more deeply, to analyze more thoroughly, to enlarge, isolate and make more familiar certain aspects of lire that earlier we were apt to neglect. In addition, it sometimes provides rich multiple experiences so organized as not merely to reflect our world, but in fact to interpret it.

We can learn from the text mat Freud’s studies _____.

Modern technology and science have produced a wealth of new materials and new ways of using old materials. For the artist this means wider opportunities. There is no doubt that the limitations of materials and nature of tools both restrict and shape a man’s work. Observe how the development of plastics and light metals along with new methods of welding has changed the direction of sculpture. Transparent plastic materials allow one to look through an object, to see its various sides superimposed on each other (as in Cubism or in an X-ray). Today, welding is as prevalent as casting was in the past. This new method encourages open designs, where surrounding and intervening space becomes as important as form itself.

　　More ambiguous than other scientific inventions familiar to modern artists, but no less influential, are the psychoanalytic studies of Freud and his followers, discoveries that have infiltrated recent art, especially Surrealism. The Surrealists, in their struggle to escape the monotony and frustrations of everyday life, claimed that dreams were the only hope. Turning to the irrational world of their unconscious, they banished all time barriers and moral judgements to combine disconnected dream experiences from the past, present and intervening psychological states. The Surrealists were concerned with overlapping emotions more than with overlapping forms. Their paintings often become segmented capsules of associative experiences. For them, obsessive and often unrelated images replaced the direct emotional message of expressionism. They did not need to smash paint and canvas: they went beyond this to smash the whole continuity of logical thought.

　　There is little doubt that contemporary art has taken much from contemporary life. In a period when science has made revolutionary strides, artists in their studios have not been unaware of scientists in their laboratories. But this has rarely been a one-way street. Painters and sculptors, through admittedly influenced by modern science, have also molded and changed our world. If break-up has been a vital part of their expression, it has not always been a symbol of destruction. Quite the contrary: it has been used to examine more fully, to penetrate more deeply, to analyze more thoroughly, to enlarge, isolate and make more familiar certain aspects of lire that earlier we were apt to neglect. In addition, it sometimes provides rich multiple experiences so organized as not merely to reflect our world, but in fact to interpret it.

Which of the following is tree about Surrealists?

Modern technology and science have produced a wealth of new materials and new ways of using old materials. For the artist this means wider opportunities. There is no doubt that the limitations of materials and nature of tools both restrict and shape a man’s work. Observe how the development of plastics and light metals along with new methods of welding has changed the direction of sculpture. Transparent plastic materials allow one to look through an object, to see its various sides superimposed on each other (as in Cubism or in an X-ray). Today, welding is as prevalent as casting was in the past. This new method encourages open designs, where surrounding and intervening space becomes as important as form itself.

　　More ambiguous than other scientific inventions familiar to modern artists, but no less influential, are the psychoanalytic studies of Freud and his followers, discoveries that have infiltrated recent art, especially Surrealism. The Surrealists, in their struggle to escape the monotony and frustrations of everyday life, claimed that dreams were the only hope. Turning to the irrational world of their unconscious, they banished all time barriers and moral judgements to combine disconnected dream experiences from the past, present and intervening psychological states. The Surrealists were concerned with overlapping emotions more than with overlapping forms. Their paintings often become segmented capsules of associative experiences. For them, obsessive and often unrelated images replaced the direct emotional message of expressionism. They did not need to smash paint and canvas: they went beyond this to smash the whole continuity of logical thought.

　　There is little doubt that contemporary art has taken much from contemporary life. In a period when science has made revolutionary strides, artists in their studios have not been unaware of scientists in their laboratories. But this has rarely been a one-way street. Painters and sculptors, through admittedly influenced by modern science, have also molded and changed our world. If break-up has been a vital part of their expression, it has not always been a symbol of destruction. Quite the contrary: it has been used to examine more fully, to penetrate more deeply, to analyze more thoroughly, to enlarge, isolate and make more familiar certain aspects of lire that earlier we were apt to neglect. In addition, it sometimes provides rich multiple experiences so organized as not merely to reflect our world, but in fact to interpret it.

The sentence “But this has rarely been a one-way street.” in the last paragraph means that _____.

About a dozen years ago my wife and I planted a hedge of twenty-seven arborvitae trees along the border of our backyard, which, although our house sits on nineteen acres of fields and woods, is also the back border of our property. A sloping hayfield with a realtor’s dream of panoramic views lies directly behind us. So the hedge was our attempt to secure privacy for the future. The nurseryman who sold us the shrubs assured us they were the best species for our purpose and climate. I measured and marked the planting sites, called in “Chink” Norris (whose possibly racist nickname I’ve not looked into any more than I have the nurseryman’s credentials) to come with his small backhoe and dig the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the first year, with results that were everything I’d been promised: dense, hardy, and luxuriant, a towering bulwark of green. Thus began an episode of great vexation and buffoonery in my life, known and (I have no doubt) merrily recounted in local circles as the tale of “Garret and his trees”, or as my wife puts it, “Garret and the deer.” It so happens that we live next to one of the county’s most extensive “deer yard”, those areas of canopied woods to which the deer retire in winter, making networks of deeply furrowed tracks and foraging as best they can until there’s a declared winner in the yearly race between spring and starvation.

　　It also happens that deer find arborvitae a delicacy, related to the cedar that they also love, but thicker and more succulent. By the second winter they’d found and attacked my trees. I fought back, not with a vengeance—I stopped short of that—but with something close to obsession. I erected fence structures that made our backyard look like a scene from the Somme. I played recordings of wolves howling, recordings of me howling. I fired pistol shots at random hours of the night. I hung or sprinkled repellents of blood meal, urine, (mine), and deodorant soap. Hearing that deer were repelled by the scent of human hair, I asked some hair dressers to set aside their sweepings in a bag with, as the saying goes, my name on it.

　　As any warden will tell you, if deer are hungry enough they will get through anything, which this year included an electric fence hooked to a charger supposedly powerful enough to deter an elephant. So the farmer who’d helped me rig it up assured me. What he did not tell me, because he did not know, was that the insulating snowpack would prevent an animal from completing the circuit with the ground. In came the deer like a school of piranhas. This was shortly after a man from Connecticut purchased the hayfield behind our house for a price few of my neighbors could afforded and none of them could believe and set about measuring the foundations of a house.

The author and his wife planted a hedge along their backyard for the purpose of _____.

About a dozen years ago my wife and I planted a hedge of twenty-seven arborvitae trees along the border of our backyard, which, although our house sits on nineteen acres of fields and woods, is also the back border of our property. A sloping hayfield with a realtor’s dream of panoramic views lies directly behind us. So the hedge was our attempt to secure privacy for the future. The nurseryman who sold us the shrubs assured us they were the best species for our purpose and climate. I measured and marked the planting sites, called in “Chink” Norris (whose possibly racist nickname I’ve not looked into any more than I have the nurseryman’s credentials) to come with his small backhoe and dig the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the first year, with results that were everything I’d been promised: dense, hardy, and luxuriant, a towering bulwark of green. Thus began an episode of great vexation and buffoonery in my life, known and (I have no doubt) merrily recounted in local circles as the tale of “Garret and his trees”, or as my wife puts it, “Garret and the deer.” It so happens that we live next to one of the county’s most extensive “deer yard”, those areas of canopied woods to which the deer retire in winter, making networks of deeply furrowed tracks and foraging as best they can until there’s a declared winner in the yearly race between spring and starvation.

　　It also happens that deer find arborvitae a delicacy, related to the cedar that they also love, but thicker and more succulent. By the second winter they’d found and attacked my trees. I fought back, not with a vengeance—I stopped short of that—but with something close to obsession. I erected fence structures that made our backyard look like a scene from the Somme. I played recordings of wolves howling, recordings of me howling. I fired pistol shots at random hours of the night. I hung or sprinkled repellents of blood meal, urine, (mine), and deodorant soap. Hearing that deer were repelled by the scent of human hair, I asked some hair dressers to set aside their sweepings in a bag with, as the saying goes, my name on it.

　　As any warden will tell you, if deer are hungry enough they will get through anything, which this year included an electric fence hooked to a charger supposedly powerful enough to deter an elephant. So the farmer who’d helped me rig it up assured me. What he did not tell me, because he did not know, was that the insulating snowpack would prevent an animal from completing the circuit with the ground. In came the deer like a school of piranhas. This was shortly after a man from Connecticut purchased the hayfield behind our house for a price few of my neighbors could afforded and none of them could believe and set about measuring the foundations of a house.

The author collects hair in bags to prevent the invasion of deer because he knows that _____.

About a dozen years ago my wife and I planted a hedge of twenty-seven arborvitae trees along the border of our backyard, which, although our house sits on nineteen acres of fields and woods, is also the back border of our property. A sloping hayfield with a realtor’s dream of panoramic views lies directly behind us. So the hedge was our attempt to secure privacy for the future. The nurseryman who sold us the shrubs assured us they were the best species for our purpose and climate. I measured and marked the planting sites, called in “Chink” Norris (whose possibly racist nickname I’ve not looked into any more than I have the nurseryman’s credentials) to come with his small backhoe and dig the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the first year, with results that were everything I’d been promised: dense, hardy, and luxuriant, a towering bulwark of green. Thus began an episode of great vexation and buffoonery in my life, known and (I have no doubt) merrily recounted in local circles as the tale of “Garret and his trees”, or as my wife puts it, “Garret and the deer.” It so happens that we live next to one of the county’s most extensive “deer yard”, those areas of canopied woods to which the deer retire in winter, making networks of deeply furrowed tracks and foraging as best they can until there’s a declared winner in the yearly race between spring and starvation.

　　It also happens that deer find arborvitae a delicacy, related to the cedar that they also love, but thicker and more succulent. By the second winter they’d found and attacked my trees. I fought back, not with a vengeance—I stopped short of that—but with something close to obsession. I erected fence structures that made our backyard look like a scene from the Somme. I played recordings of wolves howling, recordings of me howling. I fired pistol shots at random hours of the night. I hung or sprinkled repellents of blood meal, urine, (mine), and deodorant soap. Hearing that deer were repelled by the scent of human hair, I asked some hair dressers to set aside their sweepings in a bag with, as the saying goes, my name on it.

　　As any warden will tell you, if deer are hungry enough they will get through anything, which this year included an electric fence hooked to a charger supposedly powerful enough to deter an elephant. So the farmer who’d helped me rig it up assured me. What he did not tell me, because he did not know, was that the insulating snowpack would prevent an animal from completing the circuit with the ground. In came the deer like a school of piranhas. This was shortly after a man from Connecticut purchased the hayfield behind our house for a price few of my neighbors could afforded and none of them could believe and set about measuring the foundations of a house.

Why the author sets up an electric fence?

About a dozen years ago my wife and I planted a hedge of twenty-seven arborvitae trees along the border of our backyard, which, although our house sits on nineteen acres of fields and woods, is also the back border of our property. A sloping hayfield with a realtor’s dream of panoramic views lies directly behind us. So the hedge was our attempt to secure privacy for the future. The nurseryman who sold us the shrubs assured us they were the best species for our purpose and climate. I measured and marked the planting sites, called in “Chink” Norris (whose possibly racist nickname I’ve not looked into any more than I have the nurseryman’s credentials) to come with his small backhoe and dig the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the first year, with results that were everything I’d been promised: dense, hardy, and luxuriant, a towering bulwark of green. Thus began an episode of great vexation and buffoonery in my life, known and (I have no doubt) merrily recounted in local circles as the tale of “Garret and his trees”, or as my wife puts it, “Garret and the deer.” It so happens that we live next to one of the county’s most extensive “deer yard”, those areas of canopied woods to which the deer retire in winter, making networks of deeply furrowed tracks and foraging as best they can until there’s a declared winner in the yearly race between spring and starvation.

　　It also happens that deer find arborvitae a delicacy, related to the cedar that they also love, but thicker and more succulent. By the second winter they’d found and attacked my trees. I fought back, not with a vengeance—I stopped short of that—but with something close to obsession. I erected fence structures that made our backyard look like a scene from the Somme. I played recordings of wolves howling, recordings of me howling. I fired pistol shots at random hours of the night. I hung or sprinkled repellents of blood meal, urine, (mine), and deodorant soap. Hearing that deer were repelled by the scent of human hair, I asked some hair dressers to set aside their sweepings in a bag with, as the saying goes, my name on it.

　　As any warden will tell you, if deer are hungry enough they will get through anything, which this year included an electric fence hooked to a charger supposedly powerful enough to deter an elephant. So the farmer who’d helped me rig it up assured me. What he did not tell me, because he did not know, was that the insulating snowpack would prevent an animal from completing the circuit with the ground. In came the deer like a school of piranhas. This was shortly after a man from Connecticut purchased the hayfield behind our house for a price few of my neighbors could afforded and none of them could believe and set about measuring the foundations of a house.

Why did the electric fence fail? It is because of _____.

About a dozen years ago my wife and I planted a hedge of twenty-seven arborvitae trees along the border of our backyard, which, although our house sits on nineteen acres of fields and woods, is also the back border of our property. A sloping hayfield with a realtor’s dream of panoramic views lies directly behind us. So the hedge was our attempt to secure privacy for the future. The nurseryman who sold us the shrubs assured us they were the best species for our purpose and climate. I measured and marked the planting sites, called in “Chink” Norris (whose possibly racist nickname I’ve not looked into any more than I have the nurseryman’s credentials) to come with his small backhoe and dig the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the holes. As advised, I faithfully watered and fertilized each tree throughout the first year, with results that were everything I’d been promised: dense, hardy, and luxuriant, a towering bulwark of green. Thus began an episode of great vexation and buffoonery in my life, known and (I have no doubt) merrily recounted in local circles as the tale of “Garret and his trees”, or as my wife puts it, “Garret and the deer.” It so happens that we live next to one of the county’s most extensive “deer yard”, those areas of canopied woods to which the deer retire in winter, making networks of deeply furrowed tracks and foraging as best they can until there’s a declared winner in the yearly race between spring and starvation.

　　It also happens that deer find arborvitae a delicacy, related to the cedar that they also love, but thicker and more succulent. By the second winter they’d found and attacked my trees. I fought back, not with a vengeance—I stopped short of that—but with something close to obsession. I erected fence structures that made our backyard look like a scene from the Somme. I played recordings of wolves howling, recordings of me howling. I fired pistol shots at random hours of the night. I hung or sprinkled repellents of blood meal, urine, (mine), and deodorant soap. Hearing that deer were repelled by the scent of human hair, I asked some hair dressers to set aside their sweepings in a bag with, as the saying goes, my name on it.

　　As any warden will tell you, if deer are hungry enough they will get through anything, which this year included an electric fence hooked to a charger supposedly powerful enough to deter an elephant. So the farmer who’d helped me rig it up assured me. What he did not tell me, because he did not know, was that the insulating snowpack would prevent an animal from completing the circuit with the ground. In came the deer like a school of piranhas. This was shortly after a man from Connecticut purchased the hayfield behind our house for a price few of my neighbors could afforded and none of them could believe and set about measuring the foundations of a house.

What measure was NOT taken by the author to deter the deer?