1.

Which one of the following statements best expresses the main idea of the passage?

Many argue that recent developments in
electronic technology such as computers and
videotape have enabled artists to vary their forms
of expression. For example, video art can now
(5) achieve images whose effect is produced by
“digitalization”: breaking up the picture using
computerized information processing. Such new
technologies create new ways of seeing and hearing
by adding different dimensions to older forms,
(10) rather than replacing those forms. Consider Locale,
a film about a modern dance company. The camera
operator wore a Steadicam, an uncomplicated
device that allows a camera to be mounted on a
person so that the camera remains steady no matter
(15) how the operator moves. The Steadicam captures
the dance in ways impossible with traditional
mounts. Such new equipment also allows for the
preservation of previously unrecordable aspects of
performances, thus enriching archives.

(20) By contrast, others claim that technology
subverts the artistic enterprise: that artistic efforts
achieved with machines preempt human creativity,
rather than being inspired by it. The originality of
musical performance, for example, might suffer, as
(25) musicians would be deprived of the opportunity to
spontaneously change pieces of music before live
audiences. Some even worry that technology will
eliminate live performance altogether; performances
will be recorded for home viewing, abolishing the
(30) relationship between performer and audience. But
these negative views assume both that technology
poses an unprecedented challenge to the arts and
that we are not committed enough to the artistic
enterprise to preserve the live performance,
(35) assumptions that seem unnecessarily cynical. In
fact, technology has traditionally assisted our
capacity for creative expression and can refine
our notions of any given art form.

For example, the portable camera and the
(40) snapshot were developed at the same time as the
rise of Impressionist painting in the nineteenth
century. These photographic technologies
encouraged a new appreciation for the chance
view and unpredictable angle, thus preparing an
(45) audience for a new style of painting. In addition,
Impressionist artists like Degas studied the
elements of light and movement captured by
instantaneous photography and used their new
understanding of the way our perceptions distort
(50) reality to try to more accurately capture reality in
their work. Since photos can capture the “moments”
of a movement, such as a hand partially raised in a
gesture of greeting, Impressionist artists were
inspired to paint such moments in order to more
(55) effectively convey the quality of spontaneous
human action. Photography freed artists from the
preconception that a subject should be painted in a
static, artificial entirety, and inspired them to
capture the random and fragmentary qualities
(60) of our world. Finally, since photography preempted
painting as the means of obtaining portraits,
painters had more freedom to vary their subject
matter, thus giving rise to the abstract creations
characteristic of modern art.

2.

It can be inferred from the passage that the author shares which one of the following opinions with the opponents of the use of new technology in art?

Many argue that recent developments in
electronic technology such as computers and
videotape have enabled artists to vary their forms
of expression. For example, video art can now
(5) achieve images whose effect is produced by
“digitalization”: breaking up the picture using
computerized information processing. Such new
technologies create new ways of seeing and hearing
by adding different dimensions to older forms,
(10) rather than replacing those forms. Consider Locale,
a film about a modern dance company. The camera
operator wore a Steadicam, an uncomplicated
device that allows a camera to be mounted on a
person so that the camera remains steady no matter
(15) how the operator moves. The Steadicam captures
the dance in ways impossible with traditional
mounts. Such new equipment also allows for the
preservation of previously unrecordable aspects of
performances, thus enriching archives.

(20) By contrast, others claim that technology
subverts the artistic enterprise: that artistic efforts
achieved with machines preempt human creativity,
rather than being inspired by it. The originality of
musical performance, for example, might suffer, as
(25) musicians would be deprived of the opportunity to
spontaneously change pieces of music before live
audiences. Some even worry that technology will
eliminate live performance altogether; performances
will be recorded for home viewing, abolishing the
(30) relationship between performer and audience. But
these negative views assume both that technology
poses an unprecedented challenge to the arts and
that we are not committed enough to the artistic
enterprise to preserve the live performance,
(35) assumptions that seem unnecessarily cynical. In
fact, technology has traditionally assisted our
capacity for creative expression and can refine
our notions of any given art form.

For example, the portable camera and the
(40) snapshot were developed at the same time as the
rise of Impressionist painting in the nineteenth
century. These photographic technologies
encouraged a new appreciation for the chance
view and unpredictable angle, thus preparing an
(45) audience for a new style of painting. In addition,
Impressionist artists like Degas studied the
elements of light and movement captured by
instantaneous photography and used their new
understanding of the way our perceptions distort
(50) reality to try to more accurately capture reality in
their work. Since photos can capture the “moments”
of a movement, such as a hand partially raised in a
gesture of greeting, Impressionist artists were
inspired to paint such moments in order to more
(55) effectively convey the quality of spontaneous
human action. Photography freed artists from the
preconception that a subject should be painted in a
static, artificial entirety, and inspired them to
capture the random and fragmentary qualities
(60) of our world. Finally, since photography preempted
painting as the means of obtaining portraits,
painters had more freedom to vary their subject
matter, thus giving rise to the abstract creations
characteristic of modern art.

3.

Which one of the following, if true, would most undermine the position held by opponents of the use of new technology in art concerning the effect of technology on live performance?

Many argue that recent developments in
electronic technology such as computers and
videotape have enabled artists to vary their forms
of expression. For example, video art can now
(5) achieve images whose effect is produced by
“digitalization”: breaking up the picture using
computerized information processing. Such new
technologies create new ways of seeing and hearing
by adding different dimensions to older forms,
(10) rather than replacing those forms. Consider Locale,
a film about a modern dance company. The camera
operator wore a Steadicam, an uncomplicated
device that allows a camera to be mounted on a
person so that the camera remains steady no matter
(15) how the operator moves. The Steadicam captures
the dance in ways impossible with traditional
mounts. Such new equipment also allows for the
preservation of previously unrecordable aspects of
performances, thus enriching archives.

(20) By contrast, others claim that technology
subverts the artistic enterprise: that artistic efforts
achieved with machines preempt human creativity,
rather than being inspired by it. The originality of
musical performance, for example, might suffer, as
(25) musicians would be deprived of the opportunity to
spontaneously change pieces of music before live
audiences. Some even worry that technology will
eliminate live performance altogether; performances
will be recorded for home viewing, abolishing the
(30) relationship between performer and audience. But
these negative views assume both that technology
poses an unprecedented challenge to the arts and
that we are not committed enough to the artistic
enterprise to preserve the live performance,
(35) assumptions that seem unnecessarily cynical. In
fact, technology has traditionally assisted our
capacity for creative expression and can refine
our notions of any given art form.

For example, the portable camera and the
(40) snapshot were developed at the same time as the
rise of Impressionist painting in the nineteenth
century. These photographic technologies
encouraged a new appreciation for the chance
view and unpredictable angle, thus preparing an
(45) audience for a new style of painting. In addition,
Impressionist artists like Degas studied the
elements of light and movement captured by
instantaneous photography and used their new
understanding of the way our perceptions distort
(50) reality to try to more accurately capture reality in
their work. Since photos can capture the “moments”
of a movement, such as a hand partially raised in a
gesture of greeting, Impressionist artists were
inspired to paint such moments in order to more
(55) effectively convey the quality of spontaneous
human action. Photography freed artists from the
preconception that a subject should be painted in a
static, artificial entirety, and inspired them to
capture the random and fragmentary qualities
(60) of our world. Finally, since photography preempted
painting as the means of obtaining portraits,
painters had more freedom to vary their subject
matter, thus giving rise to the abstract creations
characteristic of modern art.

4.

The author uses the example of the Steadicam primarily in order to suggest that

Many argue that recent developments in
electronic technology such as computers and
videotape have enabled artists to vary their forms
of expression. For example, video art can now
(5) achieve images whose effect is produced by
“digitalization”: breaking up the picture using
computerized information processing. Such new
technologies create new ways of seeing and hearing
by adding different dimensions to older forms,
(10) rather than replacing those forms. Consider Locale,
a film about a modern dance company. The camera
operator wore a Steadicam, an uncomplicated
device that allows a camera to be mounted on a
person so that the camera remains steady no matter
(15) how the operator moves. The Steadicam captures
the dance in ways impossible with traditional
mounts. Such new equipment also allows for the
preservation of previously unrecordable aspects of
performances, thus enriching archives.

(20) By contrast, others claim that technology
subverts the artistic enterprise: that artistic efforts
achieved with machines preempt human creativity,
rather than being inspired by it. The originality of
musical performance, for example, might suffer, as
(25) musicians would be deprived of the opportunity to
spontaneously change pieces of music before live
audiences. Some even worry that technology will
eliminate live performance altogether; performances
will be recorded for home viewing, abolishing the
(30) relationship between performer and audience. But
these negative views assume both that technology
poses an unprecedented challenge to the arts and
that we are not committed enough to the artistic
enterprise to preserve the live performance,
(35) assumptions that seem unnecessarily cynical. In
fact, technology has traditionally assisted our
capacity for creative expression and can refine
our notions of any given art form.

For example, the portable camera and the
(40) snapshot were developed at the same time as the
rise of Impressionist painting in the nineteenth
century. These photographic technologies
encouraged a new appreciation for the chance
view and unpredictable angle, thus preparing an
(45) audience for a new style of painting. In addition,
Impressionist artists like Degas studied the
elements of light and movement captured by
instantaneous photography and used their new
understanding of the way our perceptions distort
(50) reality to try to more accurately capture reality in
their work. Since photos can capture the “moments”
of a movement, such as a hand partially raised in a
gesture of greeting, Impressionist artists were
inspired to paint such moments in order to more
(55) effectively convey the quality of spontaneous
human action. Photography freed artists from the
preconception that a subject should be painted in a
static, artificial entirety, and inspired them to
capture the random and fragmentary qualities
(60) of our world. Finally, since photography preempted
painting as the means of obtaining portraits,
painters had more freedom to vary their subject
matter, thus giving rise to the abstract creations
characteristic of modern art.

5.

According to the passage, proponents of the use of new electronic technology in the arts claim that which one of the following is true?

Many argue that recent developments in
electronic technology such as computers and
videotape have enabled artists to vary their forms
of expression. For example, video art can now
(5) achieve images whose effect is produced by
“digitalization”: breaking up the picture using
computerized information processing. Such new
technologies create new ways of seeing and hearing
by adding different dimensions to older forms,
(10) rather than replacing those forms. Consider Locale,
a film about a modern dance company. The camera
operator wore a Steadicam, an uncomplicated
device that allows a camera to be mounted on a
person so that the camera remains steady no matter
(15) how the operator moves. The Steadicam captures
the dance in ways impossible with traditional
mounts. Such new equipment also allows for the
preservation of previously unrecordable aspects of
performances, thus enriching archives.

(20) By contrast, others claim that technology
subverts the artistic enterprise: that artistic efforts
achieved with machines preempt human creativity,
rather than being inspired by it. The originality of
musical performance, for example, might suffer, as
(25) musicians would be deprived of the opportunity to
spontaneously change pieces of music before live
audiences. Some even worry that technology will
eliminate live performance altogether; performances
will be recorded for home viewing, abolishing the
(30) relationship between performer and audience. But
these negative views assume both that technology
poses an unprecedented challenge to the arts and
that we are not committed enough to the artistic
enterprise to preserve the live performance,
(35) assumptions that seem unnecessarily cynical. In
fact, technology has traditionally assisted our
capacity for creative expression and can refine
our notions of any given art form.

For example, the portable camera and the
(40) snapshot were developed at the same time as the
rise of Impressionist painting in the nineteenth
century. These photographic technologies
encouraged a new appreciation for the chance
view and unpredictable angle, thus preparing an
(45) audience for a new style of painting. In addition,
Impressionist artists like Degas studied the
elements of light and movement captured by
instantaneous photography and used their new
understanding of the way our perceptions distort
(50) reality to try to more accurately capture reality in
their work. Since photos can capture the “moments”
of a movement, such as a hand partially raised in a
gesture of greeting, Impressionist artists were
inspired to paint such moments in order to more
(55) effectively convey the quality of spontaneous
human action. Photography freed artists from the
preconception that a subject should be painted in a
static, artificial entirety, and inspired them to
capture the random and fragmentary qualities
(60) of our world. Finally, since photography preempted
painting as the means of obtaining portraits,
painters had more freedom to vary their subject
matter, thus giving rise to the abstract creations
characteristic of modern art.

6.

It can be inferred from the passage that the author would agree with which one of the following statements regarding changes in painting since the nineteenth century?

Many argue that recent developments in
electronic technology such as computers and
videotape have enabled artists to vary their forms
of expression. For example, video art can now
(5) achieve images whose effect is produced by
“digitalization”: breaking up the picture using
computerized information processing. Such new
technologies create new ways of seeing and hearing
by adding different dimensions to older forms,
(10) rather than replacing those forms. Consider Locale,
a film about a modern dance company. The camera
operator wore a Steadicam, an uncomplicated
device that allows a camera to be mounted on a
person so that the camera remains steady no matter
(15) how the operator moves. The Steadicam captures
the dance in ways impossible with traditional
mounts. Such new equipment also allows for the
preservation of previously unrecordable aspects of
performances, thus enriching archives.

(20) By contrast, others claim that technology
subverts the artistic enterprise: that artistic efforts
achieved with machines preempt human creativity,
rather than being inspired by it. The originality of
musical performance, for example, might suffer, as
(25) musicians would be deprived of the opportunity to
spontaneously change pieces of music before live
audiences. Some even worry that technology will
eliminate live performance altogether; performances
will be recorded for home viewing, abolishing the
(30) relationship between performer and audience. But
these negative views assume both that technology
poses an unprecedented challenge to the arts and
that we are not committed enough to the artistic
enterprise to preserve the live performance,
(35) assumptions that seem unnecessarily cynical. In
fact, technology has traditionally assisted our
capacity for creative expression and can refine
our notions of any given art form.

For example, the portable camera and the
(40) snapshot were developed at the same time as the
rise of Impressionist painting in the nineteenth
century. These photographic technologies
encouraged a new appreciation for the chance
view and unpredictable angle, thus preparing an
(45) audience for a new style of painting. In addition,
Impressionist artists like Degas studied the
elements of light and movement captured by
instantaneous photography and used their new
understanding of the way our perceptions distort
(50) reality to try to more accurately capture reality in
their work. Since photos can capture the “moments”
of a movement, such as a hand partially raised in a
gesture of greeting, Impressionist artists were
inspired to paint such moments in order to more
(55) effectively convey the quality of spontaneous
human action. Photography freed artists from the
preconception that a subject should be painted in a
static, artificial entirety, and inspired them to
capture the random and fragmentary qualities
(60) of our world. Finally, since photography preempted
painting as the means of obtaining portraits,
painters had more freedom to vary their subject
matter, thus giving rise to the abstract creations
characteristic of modern art.

7.

Which one of the following would be most consistent with the policy of readjustment described in the passage?

During the 1940s and 1950s the United States
government developed a new policy toward Native
Americans, often known as “readjustment.”
Because the increased awareness of civil rights in
(5) these decades helped reinforce the belief that life
on reservations prevented Native Americans from
exercising the rights guaranteed to citizens under
the United States Constitution, the readjustment
movement advocated the end of the federal
(10) government’s involvement in Native American
affairs and encouraged the assimilation of Native
Americans as individuals into mainstream society.
However, the same years also saw the emergence of
a Native American leadership and efforts to develop
(15) tribal institutions and reaffirm tribal identity. The
clash of these two trends may be traced in the
attempts on the part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) to convince the Oneida tribe of Wisconsin to
accept readjustment.

(20) The culmination of BIA efforts to sway the
Oneida occurred at a meeting that took place in the
fall of 1956. The BIA suggested that it would be to
the Oneida’s benefit to own their own property
and, like other homeowners, pay real estate taxes
(25) on it. The BIA also emphasized that, after
readjustment, the government would not attempt
to restrict Native Americans’ ability to sell their
individually owned lands. The Oneida were then
offered a one-time lump-sum payment of $60,000 in
(30) lieu of the $0.52 annuity guaranteed in perpetuity
to each member of the tribe under the Canandaigua
Treaty.

The efforts of the BIA to “sell” readjustment to
the tribe failed because the Oneida realized that
(35) they had heard similar offers before. The Oneida
delegates reacted negatively to the BIA’s first
suggestion because taxation of Native American
lands had been one past vehicle for dispossessing
the Oneida: after the distribution of some tribal
(40) lands to individual Native Americans in the late
nineteenth century, Native American lands became
subject to taxation, resulting in new and impossible
financial burdens, foreclosures, and subsequent tax
sales of property. The Oneida delegates were
(45) equally suspicious of the BIA’s emphasis on the
rights of individual landowners, since in the late
nineteenth century many individual Native
Americans had been convinced by unscrupulous
speculators to sell their lands. Finally, the offer of a
(50) lump-sum payment was unanimously opposed by
the Oneida delegates, who saw that changing the
terms of a treaty might jeopardize the many
pending land claims based upon the treaty.

As a result of the 1956 meeting, the Oneida
(55) rejected readjustment. Instead, they determined to
improve tribal life by lobbying for federal monies
for postsecondary education, for the improvement
of drainage on tribal lands, and for the building of
a convalescent home for tribal members. Thus, by
(60) learning the lessons of history, the Oneida were
able to survive as a tribe in their homeland.

8.

According to the passage, after the 1956 meeting the Oneida resolved to

During the 1940s and 1950s the United States
government developed a new policy toward Native
Americans, often known as “readjustment.”
Because the increased awareness of civil rights in
(5) these decades helped reinforce the belief that life
on reservations prevented Native Americans from
exercising the rights guaranteed to citizens under
the United States Constitution, the readjustment
movement advocated the end of the federal
(10) government’s involvement in Native American
affairs and encouraged the assimilation of Native
Americans as individuals into mainstream society.
However, the same years also saw the emergence of
a Native American leadership and efforts to develop
(15) tribal institutions and reaffirm tribal identity. The
clash of these two trends may be traced in the
attempts on the part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) to convince the Oneida tribe of Wisconsin to
accept readjustment.

(20) The culmination of BIA efforts to sway the
Oneida occurred at a meeting that took place in the
fall of 1956. The BIA suggested that it would be to
the Oneida’s benefit to own their own property
and, like other homeowners, pay real estate taxes
(25) on it. The BIA also emphasized that, after
readjustment, the government would not attempt
to restrict Native Americans’ ability to sell their
individually owned lands. The Oneida were then
offered a one-time lump-sum payment of $60,000 in
(30) lieu of the $0.52 annuity guaranteed in perpetuity
to each member of the tribe under the Canandaigua
Treaty.

The efforts of the BIA to “sell” readjustment to
the tribe failed because the Oneida realized that
(35) they had heard similar offers before. The Oneida
delegates reacted negatively to the BIA’s first
suggestion because taxation of Native American
lands had been one past vehicle for dispossessing
the Oneida: after the distribution of some tribal
(40) lands to individual Native Americans in the late
nineteenth century, Native American lands became
subject to taxation, resulting in new and impossible
financial burdens, foreclosures, and subsequent tax
sales of property. The Oneida delegates were
(45) equally suspicious of the BIA’s emphasis on the
rights of individual landowners, since in the late
nineteenth century many individual Native
Americans had been convinced by unscrupulous
speculators to sell their lands. Finally, the offer of a
(50) lump-sum payment was unanimously opposed by
the Oneida delegates, who saw that changing the
terms of a treaty might jeopardize the many
pending land claims based upon the treaty.

As a result of the 1956 meeting, the Oneida
(55) rejected readjustment. Instead, they determined to
improve tribal life by lobbying for federal monies
for postsecondary education, for the improvement
of drainage on tribal lands, and for the building of
a convalescent home for tribal members. Thus, by
(60) learning the lessons of history, the Oneida were
able to survive as a tribe in their homeland.

9.

Which one of the following best describes the function of the first paragraph in the context of the passage as a whole?

During the 1940s and 1950s the United States
government developed a new policy toward Native
Americans, often known as “readjustment.”
Because the increased awareness of civil rights in
(5) these decades helped reinforce the belief that life
on reservations prevented Native Americans from
exercising the rights guaranteed to citizens under
the United States Constitution, the readjustment
movement advocated the end of the federal
(10) government’s involvement in Native American
affairs and encouraged the assimilation of Native
Americans as individuals into mainstream society.
However, the same years also saw the emergence of
a Native American leadership and efforts to develop
(15) tribal institutions and reaffirm tribal identity. The
clash of these two trends may be traced in the
attempts on the part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) to convince the Oneida tribe of Wisconsin to
accept readjustment.

(20) The culmination of BIA efforts to sway the
Oneida occurred at a meeting that took place in the
fall of 1956. The BIA suggested that it would be to
the Oneida’s benefit to own their own property
and, like other homeowners, pay real estate taxes
(25) on it. The BIA also emphasized that, after
readjustment, the government would not attempt
to restrict Native Americans’ ability to sell their
individually owned lands. The Oneida were then
offered a one-time lump-sum payment of $60,000 in
(30) lieu of the $0.52 annuity guaranteed in perpetuity
to each member of the tribe under the Canandaigua
Treaty.

The efforts of the BIA to “sell” readjustment to
the tribe failed because the Oneida realized that
(35) they had heard similar offers before. The Oneida
delegates reacted negatively to the BIA’s first
suggestion because taxation of Native American
lands had been one past vehicle for dispossessing
the Oneida: after the distribution of some tribal
(40) lands to individual Native Americans in the late
nineteenth century, Native American lands became
subject to taxation, resulting in new and impossible
financial burdens, foreclosures, and subsequent tax
sales of property. The Oneida delegates were
(45) equally suspicious of the BIA’s emphasis on the
rights of individual landowners, since in the late
nineteenth century many individual Native
Americans had been convinced by unscrupulous
speculators to sell their lands. Finally, the offer of a
(50) lump-sum payment was unanimously opposed by
the Oneida delegates, who saw that changing the
terms of a treaty might jeopardize the many
pending land claims based upon the treaty.

As a result of the 1956 meeting, the Oneida
(55) rejected readjustment. Instead, they determined to
improve tribal life by lobbying for federal monies
for postsecondary education, for the improvement
of drainage on tribal lands, and for the building of
a convalescent home for tribal members. Thus, by
(60) learning the lessons of history, the Oneida were
able to survive as a tribe in their homeland.

10.

The author refers to the increased awareness of civil rights during the 1940s and 1950s most probably in order to

During the 1940s and 1950s the United States
government developed a new policy toward Native
Americans, often known as “readjustment.”
Because the increased awareness of civil rights in
(5) these decades helped reinforce the belief that life
on reservations prevented Native Americans from
exercising the rights guaranteed to citizens under
the United States Constitution, the readjustment
movement advocated the end of the federal
(10) government’s involvement in Native American
affairs and encouraged the assimilation of Native
Americans as individuals into mainstream society.
However, the same years also saw the emergence of
a Native American leadership and efforts to develop
(15) tribal institutions and reaffirm tribal identity. The
clash of these two trends may be traced in the
attempts on the part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) to convince the Oneida tribe of Wisconsin to
accept readjustment.

(20) The culmination of BIA efforts to sway the
Oneida occurred at a meeting that took place in the
fall of 1956. The BIA suggested that it would be to
the Oneida’s benefit to own their own property
and, like other homeowners, pay real estate taxes
(25) on it. The BIA also emphasized that, after
readjustment, the government would not attempt
to restrict Native Americans’ ability to sell their
individually owned lands. The Oneida were then
offered a one-time lump-sum payment of $60,000 in
(30) lieu of the $0.52 annuity guaranteed in perpetuity
to each member of the tribe under the Canandaigua
Treaty.

The efforts of the BIA to “sell” readjustment to
the tribe failed because the Oneida realized that
(35) they had heard similar offers before. The Oneida
delegates reacted negatively to the BIA’s first
suggestion because taxation of Native American
lands had been one past vehicle for dispossessing
the Oneida: after the distribution of some tribal
(40) lands to individual Native Americans in the late
nineteenth century, Native American lands became
subject to taxation, resulting in new and impossible
financial burdens, foreclosures, and subsequent tax
sales of property. The Oneida delegates were
(45) equally suspicious of the BIA’s emphasis on the
rights of individual landowners, since in the late
nineteenth century many individual Native
Americans had been convinced by unscrupulous
speculators to sell their lands. Finally, the offer of a
(50) lump-sum payment was unanimously opposed by
the Oneida delegates, who saw that changing the
terms of a treaty might jeopardize the many
pending land claims based upon the treaty.

As a result of the 1956 meeting, the Oneida
(55) rejected readjustment. Instead, they determined to
improve tribal life by lobbying for federal monies
for postsecondary education, for the improvement
of drainage on tribal lands, and for the building of
a convalescent home for tribal members. Thus, by
(60) learning the lessons of history, the Oneida were
able to survive as a tribe in their homeland.

11.

The passage suggests that advocates of readjustment would most likely agree with which one of the following statements regarding the relationship between the federal government and Native Americans?

During the 1940s and 1950s the United States
government developed a new policy toward Native
Americans, often known as “readjustment.”
Because the increased awareness of civil rights in
(5) these decades helped reinforce the belief that life
on reservations prevented Native Americans from
exercising the rights guaranteed to citizens under
the United States Constitution, the readjustment
movement advocated the end of the federal
(10) government’s involvement in Native American
affairs and encouraged the assimilation of Native
Americans as individuals into mainstream society.
However, the same years also saw the emergence of
a Native American leadership and efforts to develop
(15) tribal institutions and reaffirm tribal identity. The
clash of these two trends may be traced in the
attempts on the part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) to convince the Oneida tribe of Wisconsin to
accept readjustment.

(20) The culmination of BIA efforts to sway the
Oneida occurred at a meeting that took place in the
fall of 1956. The BIA suggested that it would be to
the Oneida’s benefit to own their own property
and, like other homeowners, pay real estate taxes
(25) on it. The BIA also emphasized that, after
readjustment, the government would not attempt
to restrict Native Americans’ ability to sell their
individually owned lands. The Oneida were then
offered a one-time lump-sum payment of $60,000 in
(30) lieu of the $0.52 annuity guaranteed in perpetuity
to each member of the tribe under the Canandaigua
Treaty.

The efforts of the BIA to “sell” readjustment to
the tribe failed because the Oneida realized that
(35) they had heard similar offers before. The Oneida
delegates reacted negatively to the BIA’s first
suggestion because taxation of Native American
lands had been one past vehicle for dispossessing
the Oneida: after the distribution of some tribal
(40) lands to individual Native Americans in the late
nineteenth century, Native American lands became
subject to taxation, resulting in new and impossible
financial burdens, foreclosures, and subsequent tax
sales of property. The Oneida delegates were
(45) equally suspicious of the BIA’s emphasis on the
rights of individual landowners, since in the late
nineteenth century many individual Native
Americans had been convinced by unscrupulous
speculators to sell their lands. Finally, the offer of a
(50) lump-sum payment was unanimously opposed by
the Oneida delegates, who saw that changing the
terms of a treaty might jeopardize the many
pending land claims based upon the treaty.

As a result of the 1956 meeting, the Oneida
(55) rejected readjustment. Instead, they determined to
improve tribal life by lobbying for federal monies
for postsecondary education, for the improvement
of drainage on tribal lands, and for the building of
a convalescent home for tribal members. Thus, by
(60) learning the lessons of history, the Oneida were
able to survive as a tribe in their homeland.

12.

The passage suggests that the Oneida delegates viewed the Canandaigua Treaty as

During the 1940s and 1950s the United States
government developed a new policy toward Native
Americans, often known as “readjustment.”
Because the increased awareness of civil rights in
(5) these decades helped reinforce the belief that life
on reservations prevented Native Americans from
exercising the rights guaranteed to citizens under
the United States Constitution, the readjustment
movement advocated the end of the federal
(10) government’s involvement in Native American
affairs and encouraged the assimilation of Native
Americans as individuals into mainstream society.
However, the same years also saw the emergence of
a Native American leadership and efforts to develop
(15) tribal institutions and reaffirm tribal identity. The
clash of these two trends may be traced in the
attempts on the part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) to convince the Oneida tribe of Wisconsin to
accept readjustment.

(20) The culmination of BIA efforts to sway the
Oneida occurred at a meeting that took place in the
fall of 1956. The BIA suggested that it would be to
the Oneida’s benefit to own their own property
and, like other homeowners, pay real estate taxes
(25) on it. The BIA also emphasized that, after
readjustment, the government would not attempt
to restrict Native Americans’ ability to sell their
individually owned lands. The Oneida were then
offered a one-time lump-sum payment of $60,000 in
(30) lieu of the $0.52 annuity guaranteed in perpetuity
to each member of the tribe under the Canandaigua
Treaty.

The efforts of the BIA to “sell” readjustment to
the tribe failed because the Oneida realized that
(35) they had heard similar offers before. The Oneida
delegates reacted negatively to the BIA’s first
suggestion because taxation of Native American
lands had been one past vehicle for dispossessing
the Oneida: after the distribution of some tribal
(40) lands to individual Native Americans in the late
nineteenth century, Native American lands became
subject to taxation, resulting in new and impossible
financial burdens, foreclosures, and subsequent tax
sales of property. The Oneida delegates were
(45) equally suspicious of the BIA’s emphasis on the
rights of individual landowners, since in the late
nineteenth century many individual Native
Americans had been convinced by unscrupulous
speculators to sell their lands. Finally, the offer of a
(50) lump-sum payment was unanimously opposed by
the Oneida delegates, who saw that changing the
terms of a treaty might jeopardize the many
pending land claims based upon the treaty.

As a result of the 1956 meeting, the Oneida
(55) rejected readjustment. Instead, they determined to
improve tribal life by lobbying for federal monies
for postsecondary education, for the improvement
of drainage on tribal lands, and for the building of
a convalescent home for tribal members. Thus, by
(60) learning the lessons of history, the Oneida were
able to survive as a tribe in their homeland.

13.

Which one of the following situations most closely parallels that of the Oneida delegates in refusing to accept a lump-sum payment of $60,000?

During the 1940s and 1950s the United States
government developed a new policy toward Native
Americans, often known as “readjustment.”
Because the increased awareness of civil rights in
(5) these decades helped reinforce the belief that life
on reservations prevented Native Americans from
exercising the rights guaranteed to citizens under
the United States Constitution, the readjustment
movement advocated the end of the federal
(10) government’s involvement in Native American
affairs and encouraged the assimilation of Native
Americans as individuals into mainstream society.
However, the same years also saw the emergence of
a Native American leadership and efforts to develop
(15) tribal institutions and reaffirm tribal identity. The
clash of these two trends may be traced in the
attempts on the part of the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) to convince the Oneida tribe of Wisconsin to
accept readjustment.

(20) The culmination of BIA efforts to sway the
Oneida occurred at a meeting that took place in the
fall of 1956. The BIA suggested that it would be to
the Oneida’s benefit to own their own property
and, like other homeowners, pay real estate taxes
(25) on it. The BIA also emphasized that, after
readjustment, the government would not attempt
to restrict Native Americans’ ability to sell their
individually owned lands. The Oneida were then
offered a one-time lump-sum payment of $60,000 in
(30) lieu of the $0.52 annuity guaranteed in perpetuity
to each member of the tribe under the Canandaigua
Treaty.

The efforts of the BIA to “sell” readjustment to
the tribe failed because the Oneida realized that
(35) they had heard similar offers before. The Oneida
delegates reacted negatively to the BIA’s first
suggestion because taxation of Native American
lands had been one past vehicle for dispossessing
the Oneida: after the distribution of some tribal
(40) lands to individual Native Americans in the late
nineteenth century, Native American lands became
subject to taxation, resulting in new and impossible
financial burdens, foreclosures, and subsequent tax
sales of property. The Oneida delegates were
(45) equally suspicious of the BIA’s emphasis on the
rights of individual landowners, since in the late
nineteenth century many individual Native
Americans had been convinced by unscrupulous
speculators to sell their lands. Finally, the offer of a
(50) lump-sum payment was unanimously opposed by
the Oneida delegates, who saw that changing the
terms of a treaty might jeopardize the many
pending land claims based upon the treaty.

As a result of the 1956 meeting, the Oneida
(55) rejected readjustment. Instead, they determined to
improve tribal life by lobbying for federal monies
for postsecondary education, for the improvement
of drainage on tribal lands, and for the building of
a convalescent home for tribal members. Thus, by
(60) learning the lessons of history, the Oneida were
able to survive as a tribe in their homeland.

14.

Which one of the following statements best expresses the main idea of the passage?

Direct observation of contemporary societies at
the threshold of widespread literacy has not assisted
our understanding of how such literacy altered
ancient Greek society, in particular its political
(5) culture. The discovery of what Goody has called
the “enabling effects”of literacy in contemporary
societies tends to seduce the observer into confusing
often rudimentary knowledge of how to read with
popular access to important books and documents;
(10) this confusion is then projected onto ancient
societies.“In ancient Greece,” Goody writes,
“alphabetic reading and writing was important for
the development of political democracy.”

An examination of the ancient Greek city
(15) Athens exemplifies how this sort of confusion is
detrimental to understanding ancient politics. In
Athens, the early development of a written law
code was retrospectively mythologized as the
critical factor in breaking the power monopoly of
(20) the old aristocracy: hence the Greek tradition of
the “law-giver,” which has captured the imaginations
of scholars like Goody. But the application and
efficacy of all law codes depend on their interpretation
by magistrates and courts, and unless the right of
(25) interpretation is “democratized,” the mere existence
of written laws changes little.

In fact, never in antiquity did any but the elite
consult documents and books. Even in Greek
courts the juries heard only the relevant statutes
(30) read out during the proceedings, as they heard
verbal testimony, and they then rendered their
verdict on the spot, without the benefit of any
discussion among themselves. True, in Athens the
juries were representative of a broad spectrum of
(35) the population, and these juries, drawn from
diverse social classes, both interpreted what they
had heard and determined matters of fact.
However, they were guided solely by the speeches
prepared for the parties by professional pleaders
(40) and by the quotations of laws or decrees within the
speeches, rather than by their own access to any
kind of document or book.

Granted, people today also rely heavily on a
truly knowledgeable minority for information and
(45) its interpretation, often transmitted orally. Yet this
is still fundamentally different from an ancient
society in which there was no “popular literature,”
i.e., no newspapers, magazines, or other media that
dealt with sociopolitical issues. An ancient law code
(50) would have been analogous to the Latin Bible, a
venerated document but a closed book. The
resistance of the medieval Church to vernacular
translations of the Bible, in the West at least, is
therefore a pointer to the realities of ancient literacy.
(55) When fundamental documents are accessible for
study only to an elite, the rest of the society is
subject to the elite’s interpretation of the rules of
behavior, including right political behavior.
Athens, insofar as it functioned as a democracy, did
(60) so not because of widespread literacy, but because
the elite had chosen to accept democratic institutions.

15.

It can be inferred from the passage that the author assumes which one of the following about societies in which the people possess a rudimentary reading ability?

Direct observation of contemporary societies at
the threshold of widespread literacy has not assisted
our understanding of how such literacy altered
ancient Greek society, in particular its political
(5) culture. The discovery of what Goody has called
the “enabling effects”of literacy in contemporary
societies tends to seduce the observer into confusing
often rudimentary knowledge of how to read with
popular access to important books and documents;
(10) this confusion is then projected onto ancient
societies.“In ancient Greece,” Goody writes,
“alphabetic reading and writing was important for
the development of political democracy.”

An examination of the ancient Greek city
(15) Athens exemplifies how this sort of confusion is
detrimental to understanding ancient politics. In
Athens, the early development of a written law
code was retrospectively mythologized as the
critical factor in breaking the power monopoly of
(20) the old aristocracy: hence the Greek tradition of
the “law-giver,” which has captured the imaginations
of scholars like Goody. But the application and
efficacy of all law codes depend on their interpretation
by magistrates and courts, and unless the right of
(25) interpretation is “democratized,” the mere existence
of written laws changes little.

In fact, never in antiquity did any but the elite
consult documents and books. Even in Greek
courts the juries heard only the relevant statutes
(30) read out during the proceedings, as they heard
verbal testimony, and they then rendered their
verdict on the spot, without the benefit of any
discussion among themselves. True, in Athens the
juries were representative of a broad spectrum of
(35) the population, and these juries, drawn from
diverse social classes, both interpreted what they
had heard and determined matters of fact.
However, they were guided solely by the speeches
prepared for the parties by professional pleaders
(40) and by the quotations of laws or decrees within the
speeches, rather than by their own access to any
kind of document or book.

Granted, people today also rely heavily on a
truly knowledgeable minority for information and
(45) its interpretation, often transmitted orally. Yet this
is still fundamentally different from an ancient
society in which there was no “popular literature,”
i.e., no newspapers, magazines, or other media that
dealt with sociopolitical issues. An ancient law code
(50) would have been analogous to the Latin Bible, a
venerated document but a closed book. The
resistance of the medieval Church to vernacular
translations of the Bible, in the West at least, is
therefore a pointer to the realities of ancient literacy.
(55) When fundamental documents are accessible for
study only to an elite, the rest of the society is
subject to the elite’s interpretation of the rules of
behavior, including right political behavior.
Athens, insofar as it functioned as a democracy, did
(60) so not because of widespread literacy, but because
the elite had chosen to accept democratic institutions.

16.

The author refers to the truly knowledgeable minority in contemporary societies in the context of the fourth paragraph in order to imply which one of the following?

Direct observation of contemporary societies at
the threshold of widespread literacy has not assisted
our understanding of how such literacy altered
ancient Greek society, in particular its political
(5) culture. The discovery of what Goody has called
the “enabling effects”of literacy in contemporary
societies tends to seduce the observer into confusing
often rudimentary knowledge of how to read with
popular access to important books and documents;
(10) this confusion is then projected onto ancient
societies.“In ancient Greece,” Goody writes,
“alphabetic reading and writing was important for
the development of political democracy.”

An examination of the ancient Greek city
(15) Athens exemplifies how this sort of confusion is
detrimental to understanding ancient politics. In
Athens, the early development of a written law
code was retrospectively mythologized as the
critical factor in breaking the power monopoly of
(20) the old aristocracy: hence the Greek tradition of
the “law-giver,” which has captured the imaginations
of scholars like Goody. But the application and
efficacy of all law codes depend on their interpretation
by magistrates and courts, and unless the right of
(25) interpretation is “democratized,” the mere existence
of written laws changes little.

In fact, never in antiquity did any but the elite
consult documents and books. Even in Greek
courts the juries heard only the relevant statutes
(30) read out during the proceedings, as they heard
verbal testimony, and they then rendered their
verdict on the spot, without the benefit of any
discussion among themselves. True, in Athens the
juries were representative of a broad spectrum of
(35) the population, and these juries, drawn from
diverse social classes, both interpreted what they
had heard and determined matters of fact.
However, they were guided solely by the speeches
prepared for the parties by professional pleaders
(40) and by the quotations of laws or decrees within the
speeches, rather than by their own access to any
kind of document or book.

Granted, people today also rely heavily on a
truly knowledgeable minority for information and
(45) its interpretation, often transmitted orally. Yet this
is still fundamentally different from an ancient
society in which there was no “popular literature,”
i.e., no newspapers, magazines, or other media that
dealt with sociopolitical issues. An ancient law code
(50) would have been analogous to the Latin Bible, a
venerated document but a closed book. The
resistance of the medieval Church to vernacular
translations of the Bible, in the West at least, is
therefore a pointer to the realities of ancient literacy.
(55) When fundamental documents are accessible for
study only to an elite, the rest of the society is
subject to the elite’s interpretation of the rules of
behavior, including right political behavior.
Athens, insofar as it functioned as a democracy, did
(60) so not because of widespread literacy, but because
the elite had chosen to accept democratic institutions.

17.

According to the passage, each of the following statements concerning ancient Greek juries is true EXCEPT:

Direct observation of contemporary societies at
the threshold of widespread literacy has not assisted
our understanding of how such literacy altered
ancient Greek society, in particular its political
(5) culture. The discovery of what Goody has called
the “enabling effects”of literacy in contemporary
societies tends to seduce the observer into confusing
often rudimentary knowledge of how to read with
popular access to important books and documents;
(10) this confusion is then projected onto ancient
societies.“In ancient Greece,” Goody writes,
“alphabetic reading and writing was important for
the development of political democracy.”

An examination of the ancient Greek city
(15) Athens exemplifies how this sort of confusion is
detrimental to understanding ancient politics. In
Athens, the early development of a written law
code was retrospectively mythologized as the
critical factor in breaking the power monopoly of
(20) the old aristocracy: hence the Greek tradition of
the “law-giver,” which has captured the imaginations
of scholars like Goody. But the application and
efficacy of all law codes depend on their interpretation
by magistrates and courts, and unless the right of
(25) interpretation is “democratized,” the mere existence
of written laws changes little.

In fact, never in antiquity did any but the elite
consult documents and books. Even in Greek
courts the juries heard only the relevant statutes
(30) read out during the proceedings, as they heard
verbal testimony, and they then rendered their
verdict on the spot, without the benefit of any
discussion among themselves. True, in Athens the
juries were representative of a broad spectrum of
(35) the population, and these juries, drawn from
diverse social classes, both interpreted what they
had heard and determined matters of fact.
However, they were guided solely by the speeches
prepared for the parties by professional pleaders
(40) and by the quotations of laws or decrees within the
speeches, rather than by their own access to any
kind of document or book.

Granted, people today also rely heavily on a
truly knowledgeable minority for information and
(45) its interpretation, often transmitted orally. Yet this
is still fundamentally different from an ancient
society in which there was no “popular literature,”
i.e., no newspapers, magazines, or other media that
dealt with sociopolitical issues. An ancient law code
(50) would have been analogous to the Latin Bible, a
venerated document but a closed book. The
resistance of the medieval Church to vernacular
translations of the Bible, in the West at least, is
therefore a pointer to the realities of ancient literacy.
(55) When fundamental documents are accessible for
study only to an elite, the rest of the society is
subject to the elite’s interpretation of the rules of
behavior, including right political behavior.
Athens, insofar as it functioned as a democracy, did
(60) so not because of widespread literacy, but because
the elite had chosen to accept democratic institutions.

18.

The author characterizes the Greek tradition of the “law-giver” (line 21) as an effect of mythologizing most probably in order to

Direct observation of contemporary societies at
the threshold of widespread literacy has not assisted
our understanding of how such literacy altered
ancient Greek society, in particular its political
(5) culture. The discovery of what Goody has called
the “enabling effects”of literacy in contemporary
societies tends to seduce the observer into confusing
often rudimentary knowledge of how to read with
popular access to important books and documents;
(10) this confusion is then projected onto ancient
societies.“In ancient Greece,” Goody writes,
“alphabetic reading and writing was important for
the development of political democracy.”

An examination of the ancient Greek city
(15) Athens exemplifies how this sort of confusion is
detrimental to understanding ancient politics. In
Athens, the early development of a written law
code was retrospectively mythologized as the
critical factor in breaking the power monopoly of
(20) the old aristocracy: hence the Greek tradition of
the “law-giver,” which has captured the imaginations
of scholars like Goody. But the application and
efficacy of all law codes depend on their interpretation
by magistrates and courts, and unless the right of
(25) interpretation is “democratized,” the mere existence
of written laws changes little.

In fact, never in antiquity did any but the elite
consult documents and books. Even in Greek
courts the juries heard only the relevant statutes
(30) read out during the proceedings, as they heard
verbal testimony, and they then rendered their
verdict on the spot, without the benefit of any
discussion among themselves. True, in Athens the
juries were representative of a broad spectrum of
(35) the population, and these juries, drawn from
diverse social classes, both interpreted what they
had heard and determined matters of fact.
However, they were guided solely by the speeches
prepared for the parties by professional pleaders
(40) and by the quotations of laws or decrees within the
speeches, rather than by their own access to any
kind of document or book.

Granted, people today also rely heavily on a
truly knowledgeable minority for information and
(45) its interpretation, often transmitted orally. Yet this
is still fundamentally different from an ancient
society in which there was no “popular literature,”
i.e., no newspapers, magazines, or other media that
dealt with sociopolitical issues. An ancient law code
(50) would have been analogous to the Latin Bible, a
venerated document but a closed book. The
resistance of the medieval Church to vernacular
translations of the Bible, in the West at least, is
therefore a pointer to the realities of ancient literacy.
(55) When fundamental documents are accessible for
study only to an elite, the rest of the society is
subject to the elite’s interpretation of the rules of
behavior, including right political behavior.
Athens, insofar as it functioned as a democracy, did
(60) so not because of widespread literacy, but because
the elite had chosen to accept democratic institutions.

19.

The author draws an analogy between the Latin Bible and an early law code (lines 49–51) in order to make which one of the following points?

Direct observation of contemporary societies at
the threshold of widespread literacy has not assisted
our understanding of how such literacy altered
ancient Greek society, in particular its political
(5) culture. The discovery of what Goody has called
the “enabling effects”of literacy in contemporary
societies tends to seduce the observer into confusing
often rudimentary knowledge of how to read with
popular access to important books and documents;
(10) this confusion is then projected onto ancient
societies.“In ancient Greece,” Goody writes,
“alphabetic reading and writing was important for
the development of political democracy.”

An examination of the ancient Greek city
(15) Athens exemplifies how this sort of confusion is
detrimental to understanding ancient politics. In
Athens, the early development of a written law
code was retrospectively mythologized as the
critical factor in breaking the power monopoly of
(20) the old aristocracy: hence the Greek tradition of
the “law-giver,” which has captured the imaginations
of scholars like Goody. But the application and
efficacy of all law codes depend on their interpretation
by magistrates and courts, and unless the right of
(25) interpretation is “democratized,” the mere existence
of written laws changes little.

In fact, never in antiquity did any but the elite
consult documents and books. Even in Greek
courts the juries heard only the relevant statutes
(30) read out during the proceedings, as they heard
verbal testimony, and they then rendered their
verdict on the spot, without the benefit of any
discussion among themselves. True, in Athens the
juries were representative of a broad spectrum of
(35) the population, and these juries, drawn from
diverse social classes, both interpreted what they
had heard and determined matters of fact.
However, they were guided solely by the speeches
prepared for the parties by professional pleaders
(40) and by the quotations of laws or decrees within the
speeches, rather than by their own access to any
kind of document or book.

Granted, people today also rely heavily on a
truly knowledgeable minority for information and
(45) its interpretation, often transmitted orally. Yet this
is still fundamentally different from an ancient
society in which there was no “popular literature,”
i.e., no newspapers, magazines, or other media that
dealt with sociopolitical issues. An ancient law code
(50) would have been analogous to the Latin Bible, a
venerated document but a closed book. The
resistance of the medieval Church to vernacular
translations of the Bible, in the West at least, is
therefore a pointer to the realities of ancient literacy.
(55) When fundamental documents are accessible for
study only to an elite, the rest of the society is
subject to the elite’s interpretation of the rules of
behavior, including right political behavior.
Athens, insofar as it functioned as a democracy, did
(60) so not because of widespread literacy, but because
the elite had chosen to accept democratic institutions.

20.

The primary purpose of the passage is to

Direct observation of contemporary societies at
the threshold of widespread literacy has not assisted
our understanding of how such literacy altered
ancient Greek society, in particular its political
(5) culture. The discovery of what Goody has called
the “enabling effects”of literacy in contemporary
societies tends to seduce the observer into confusing
often rudimentary knowledge of how to read with
popular access to important books and documents;
(10) this confusion is then projected onto ancient
societies.“In ancient Greece,” Goody writes,
“alphabetic reading and writing was important for
the development of political democracy.”

An examination of the ancient Greek city
(15) Athens exemplifies how this sort of confusion is
detrimental to understanding ancient politics. In
Athens, the early development of a written law
code was retrospectively mythologized as the
critical factor in breaking the power monopoly of
(20) the old aristocracy: hence the Greek tradition of
the “law-giver,” which has captured the imaginations
of scholars like Goody. But the application and
efficacy of all law codes depend on their interpretation
by magistrates and courts, and unless the right of
(25) interpretation is “democratized,” the mere existence
of written laws changes little.

In fact, never in antiquity did any but the elite
consult documents and books. Even in Greek
courts the juries heard only the relevant statutes
(30) read out during the proceedings, as they heard
verbal testimony, and they then rendered their
verdict on the spot, without the benefit of any
discussion among themselves. True, in Athens the
juries were representative of a broad spectrum of
(35) the population, and these juries, drawn from
diverse social classes, both interpreted what they
had heard and determined matters of fact.
However, they were guided solely by the speeches
prepared for the parties by professional pleaders
(40) and by the quotations of laws or decrees within the
speeches, rather than by their own access to any
kind of document or book.

Granted, people today also rely heavily on a
truly knowledgeable minority for information and
(45) its interpretation, often transmitted orally. Yet this
is still fundamentally different from an ancient
society in which there was no “popular literature,”
i.e., no newspapers, magazines, or other media that
dealt with sociopolitical issues. An ancient law code
(50) would have been analogous to the Latin Bible, a
venerated document but a closed book. The
resistance of the medieval Church to vernacular
translations of the Bible, in the West at least, is
therefore a pointer to the realities of ancient literacy.
(55) When fundamental documents are accessible for
study only to an elite, the rest of the society is
subject to the elite’s interpretation of the rules of
behavior, including right political behavior.
Athens, insofar as it functioned as a democracy, did
(60) so not because of widespread literacy, but because
the elite had chosen to accept democratic institutions.

21.

Which one of the following best expresses the main idea of the passage?

The English who in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries inhabited those colonies that
would later become the United States shared a
commonpolitical vocabulary with the English in
(5) England. Steeped as they were in the English
political language, these colonials failed to observe
that their experience in America had given the
words a significance quite different from that
accepted by the English with whom they debated;
(10) in fact, they claimed that they were more loyal to
the English political tradition than were the English
in England.

In many respects the political institutions of
England were reproduced in these American
(15) colonies. By the middle of the eighteenth century,
all of these colonies except four were headed by
Royal Governors appointed by the King and
perceived as bearing a relation to the people of the
colony similar to that of the King to the English
(20) people. Moreover, each of these colonies enjoyed a
representative assembly, which was consciously
modeled, in powers and practices, after the English
Parliament. In both England and these colonies,
only property holders could vote.

(25) Nevertheless, though English and colonial
institutions were structurally similar, attitudes
toward those institutions differed. For example,
English legal development from the early
seventeenth century had been moving steadily
(30) toward the absolute power of Parliament. The most
unmistakable sign of this tendency was the legal
assertion that the King was subject to the law.
Together with this resolute denial of the absolute
right of kings went the assertion that Parliament
(35) was unlimited in its power: it could change even
the Constitution by its ordinary acts of legislation.
By the eighteenth century the English had accepted
the idea that the parliamentary representatives of
the people were omnipotent.

(40) The citizens of these colonies did not look upon
the English Parliament with such fond eyes, nor did
they concede that their own assemblies possessed
such wide powers. There were good historical
reasons for this. To the English the word
(45) “constitution”meant the whole body of law and
legal custom formulated since the beginning of the
kingdom, whereas to these colonials a constitution
was a specific written document, enumerating
specific powers. This distinction in meaning can be
(50) traced to the fact that the foundations of government
in the various colonies were written charters granted
by the Crown. These express authorizations to
govern were tangible, definite things. Over the years
these colonials had often repaired to the charters to
(55) justify themselves in the struggle against tyrannical
governors or officials of the Crown. More than a
century of government under written constitutions
convinced these colonists of the necessity for and
efficacy of protecting their liberties against
(60) governmental encroachment by explicitly defining
all governmental powers in a document.

22.

The passage supports all of the following statements about the political conditions present by the middle of the eighteenth century in the American colonies discussed in the passage EXCEPT:

The English who in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries inhabited those colonies that
would later become the United States shared a
commonpolitical vocabulary with the English in
(5) England. Steeped as they were in the English
political language, these colonials failed to observe
that their experience in America had given the
words a significance quite different from that
accepted by the English with whom they debated;
(10) in fact, they claimed that they were more loyal to
the English political tradition than were the English
in England.

In many respects the political institutions of
England were reproduced in these American
(15) colonies. By the middle of the eighteenth century,
all of these colonies except four were headed by
Royal Governors appointed by the King and
perceived as bearing a relation to the people of the
colony similar to that of the King to the English
(20) people. Moreover, each of these colonies enjoyed a
representative assembly, which was consciously
modeled, in powers and practices, after the English
Parliament. In both England and these colonies,
only property holders could vote.

(25) Nevertheless, though English and colonial
institutions were structurally similar, attitudes
toward those institutions differed. For example,
English legal development from the early
seventeenth century had been moving steadily
(30) toward the absolute power of Parliament. The most
unmistakable sign of this tendency was the legal
assertion that the King was subject to the law.
Together with this resolute denial of the absolute
right of kings went the assertion that Parliament
(35) was unlimited in its power: it could change even
the Constitution by its ordinary acts of legislation.
By the eighteenth century the English had accepted
the idea that the parliamentary representatives of
the people were omnipotent.

(40) The citizens of these colonies did not look upon
the English Parliament with such fond eyes, nor did
they concede that their own assemblies possessed
such wide powers. There were good historical
reasons for this. To the English the word
(45) “constitution”meant the whole body of law and
legal custom formulated since the beginning of the
kingdom, whereas to these colonials a constitution
was a specific written document, enumerating
specific powers. This distinction in meaning can be
(50) traced to the fact that the foundations of government
in the various colonies were written charters granted
by the Crown. These express authorizations to
govern were tangible, definite things. Over the years
these colonials had often repaired to the charters to
(55) justify themselves in the struggle against tyrannical
governors or officials of the Crown. More than a
century of government under written constitutions
convinced these colonists of the necessity for and
efficacy of protecting their liberties against
(60) governmental encroachment by explicitly defining
all governmental powers in a document.

23.

The passage implies which one of the following about English kings prior to the early seventeenth century?

The English who in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries inhabited those colonies that
would later become the United States shared a
commonpolitical vocabulary with the English in
(5) England. Steeped as they were in the English
political language, these colonials failed to observe
that their experience in America had given the
words a significance quite different from that
accepted by the English with whom they debated;
(10) in fact, they claimed that they were more loyal to
the English political tradition than were the English
in England.

In many respects the political institutions of
England were reproduced in these American
(15) colonies. By the middle of the eighteenth century,
all of these colonies except four were headed by
Royal Governors appointed by the King and
perceived as bearing a relation to the people of the
colony similar to that of the King to the English
(20) people. Moreover, each of these colonies enjoyed a
representative assembly, which was consciously
modeled, in powers and practices, after the English
Parliament. In both England and these colonies,
only property holders could vote.

(25) Nevertheless, though English and colonial
institutions were structurally similar, attitudes
toward those institutions differed. For example,
English legal development from the early
seventeenth century had been moving steadily
(30) toward the absolute power of Parliament. The most
unmistakable sign of this tendency was the legal
assertion that the King was subject to the law.
Together with this resolute denial of the absolute
right of kings went the assertion that Parliament
(35) was unlimited in its power: it could change even
the Constitution by its ordinary acts of legislation.
By the eighteenth century the English had accepted
the idea that the parliamentary representatives of
the people were omnipotent.

(40) The citizens of these colonies did not look upon
the English Parliament with such fond eyes, nor did
they concede that their own assemblies possessed
such wide powers. There were good historical
reasons for this. To the English the word
(45) “constitution”meant the whole body of law and
legal custom formulated since the beginning of the
kingdom, whereas to these colonials a constitution
was a specific written document, enumerating
specific powers. This distinction in meaning can be
(50) traced to the fact that the foundations of government
in the various colonies were written charters granted
by the Crown. These express authorizations to
govern were tangible, definite things. Over the years
these colonials had often repaired to the charters to
(55) justify themselves in the struggle against tyrannical
governors or officials of the Crown. More than a
century of government under written constitutions
convinced these colonists of the necessity for and
efficacy of protecting their liberties against
(60) governmental encroachment by explicitly defining
all governmental powers in a document.

24.

The author mentions which one of the following as evidence for the eighteenth-century English attitude toward Parliament?

The English who in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries inhabited those colonies that
would later become the United States shared a
commonpolitical vocabulary with the English in
(5) England. Steeped as they were in the English
political language, these colonials failed to observe
that their experience in America had given the
words a significance quite different from that
accepted by the English with whom they debated;
(10) in fact, they claimed that they were more loyal to
the English political tradition than were the English
in England.

In many respects the political institutions of
England were reproduced in these American
(15) colonies. By the middle of the eighteenth century,
all of these colonies except four were headed by
Royal Governors appointed by the King and
perceived as bearing a relation to the people of the
colony similar to that of the King to the English
(20) people. Moreover, each of these colonies enjoyed a
representative assembly, which was consciously
modeled, in powers and practices, after the English
Parliament. In both England and these colonies,
only property holders could vote.

(25) Nevertheless, though English and colonial
institutions were structurally similar, attitudes
toward those institutions differed. For example,
English legal development from the early
seventeenth century had been moving steadily
(30) toward the absolute power of Parliament. The most
unmistakable sign of this tendency was the legal
assertion that the King was subject to the law.
Together with this resolute denial of the absolute
right of kings went the assertion that Parliament
(35) was unlimited in its power: it could change even
the Constitution by its ordinary acts of legislation.
By the eighteenth century the English had accepted
the idea that the parliamentary representatives of
the people were omnipotent.

(40) The citizens of these colonies did not look upon
the English Parliament with such fond eyes, nor did
they concede that their own assemblies possessed
such wide powers. There were good historical
reasons for this. To the English the word
(45) “constitution”meant the whole body of law and
legal custom formulated since the beginning of the
kingdom, whereas to these colonials a constitution
was a specific written document, enumerating
specific powers. This distinction in meaning can be
(50) traced to the fact that the foundations of government
in the various colonies were written charters granted
by the Crown. These express authorizations to
govern were tangible, definite things. Over the years
these colonials had often repaired to the charters to
(55) justify themselves in the struggle against tyrannical
governors or officials of the Crown. More than a
century of government under written constitutions
convinced these colonists of the necessity for and
efficacy of protecting their liberties against
(60) governmental encroachment by explicitly defining
all governmental powers in a document.

25.

The passage implies that the colonials discussed in the passage would have considered which one of the following to be a source of their debates with England?

The English who in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries inhabited those colonies that
would later become the United States shared a
commonpolitical vocabulary with the English in
(5) England. Steeped as they were in the English
political language, these colonials failed to observe
that their experience in America had given the
words a significance quite different from that
accepted by the English with whom they debated;
(10) in fact, they claimed that they were more loyal to
the English political tradition than were the English
in England.

In many respects the political institutions of
England were reproduced in these American
(15) colonies. By the middle of the eighteenth century,
all of these colonies except four were headed by
Royal Governors appointed by the King and
perceived as bearing a relation to the people of the
colony similar to that of the King to the English
(20) people. Moreover, each of these colonies enjoyed a
representative assembly, which was consciously
modeled, in powers and practices, after the English
Parliament. In both England and these colonies,
only property holders could vote.

(25) Nevertheless, though English and colonial
institutions were structurally similar, attitudes
toward those institutions differed. For example,
English legal development from the early
seventeenth century had been moving steadily
(30) toward the absolute power of Parliament. The most
unmistakable sign of this tendency was the legal
assertion that the King was subject to the law.
Together with this resolute denial of the absolute
right of kings went the assertion that Parliament
(35) was unlimited in its power: it could change even
the Constitution by its ordinary acts of legislation.
By the eighteenth century the English had accepted
the idea that the parliamentary representatives of
the people were omnipotent.

(40) The citizens of these colonies did not look upon
the English Parliament with such fond eyes, nor did
they concede that their own assemblies possessed
such wide powers. There were good historical
reasons for this. To the English the word
(45) “constitution”meant the whole body of law and
legal custom formulated since the beginning of the
kingdom, whereas to these colonials a constitution
was a specific written document, enumerating
specific powers. This distinction in meaning can be
(50) traced to the fact that the foundations of government
in the various colonies were written charters granted
by the Crown. These express authorizations to
govern were tangible, definite things. Over the years
these colonials had often repaired to the charters to
(55) justify themselves in the struggle against tyrannical
governors or officials of the Crown. More than a
century of government under written constitutions
convinced these colonists of the necessity for and
efficacy of protecting their liberties against
(60) governmental encroachment by explicitly defining
all governmental powers in a document.

26.

According to the passage, the English attitude toward the English Constitution differed from the colonial attitude toward constitutions in that the English regarded their Constitution as

The English who in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries inhabited those colonies that
would later become the United States shared a
commonpolitical vocabulary with the English in
(5) England. Steeped as they were in the English
political language, these colonials failed to observe
that their experience in America had given the
words a significance quite different from that
accepted by the English with whom they debated;
(10) in fact, they claimed that they were more loyal to
the English political tradition than were the English
in England.

In many respects the political institutions of
England were reproduced in these American
(15) colonies. By the middle of the eighteenth century,
all of these colonies except four were headed by
Royal Governors appointed by the King and
perceived as bearing a relation to the people of the
colony similar to that of the King to the English
(20) people. Moreover, each of these colonies enjoyed a
representative assembly, which was consciously
modeled, in powers and practices, after the English
Parliament. In both England and these colonies,
only property holders could vote.

(25) Nevertheless, though English and colonial
institutions were structurally similar, attitudes
toward those institutions differed. For example,
English legal development from the early
seventeenth century had been moving steadily
(30) toward the absolute power of Parliament. The most
unmistakable sign of this tendency was the legal
assertion that the King was subject to the law.
Together with this resolute denial of the absolute
right of kings went the assertion that Parliament
(35) was unlimited in its power: it could change even
the Constitution by its ordinary acts of legislation.
By the eighteenth century the English had accepted
the idea that the parliamentary representatives of
the people were omnipotent.

(40) The citizens of these colonies did not look upon
the English Parliament with such fond eyes, nor did
they concede that their own assemblies possessed
such wide powers. There were good historical
reasons for this. To the English the word
(45) “constitution”meant the whole body of law and
legal custom formulated since the beginning of the
kingdom, whereas to these colonials a constitution
was a specific written document, enumerating
specific powers. This distinction in meaning can be
(50) traced to the fact that the foundations of government
in the various colonies were written charters granted
by the Crown. These express authorizations to
govern were tangible, definite things. Over the years
these colonials had often repaired to the charters to
(55) justify themselves in the struggle against tyrannical
governors or officials of the Crown. More than a
century of government under written constitutions
convinced these colonists of the necessity for and
efficacy of protecting their liberties against
(60) governmental encroachment by explicitly defining
all governmental powers in a document.

27.

The primary purpose of the passage is to

The English who in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries inhabited those colonies that
would later become the United States shared a
commonpolitical vocabulary with the English in
(5) England. Steeped as they were in the English
political language, these colonials failed to observe
that their experience in America had given the
words a significance quite different from that
accepted by the English with whom they debated;
(10) in fact, they claimed that they were more loyal to
the English political tradition than were the English
in England.

In many respects the political institutions of
England were reproduced in these American
(15) colonies. By the middle of the eighteenth century,
all of these colonies except four were headed by
Royal Governors appointed by the King and
perceived as bearing a relation to the people of the
colony similar to that of the King to the English
(20) people. Moreover, each of these colonies enjoyed a
representative assembly, which was consciously
modeled, in powers and practices, after the English
Parliament. In both England and these colonies,
only property holders could vote.

(25) Nevertheless, though English and colonial
institutions were structurally similar, attitudes
toward those institutions differed. For example,
English legal development from the early
seventeenth century had been moving steadily
(30) toward the absolute power of Parliament. The most
unmistakable sign of this tendency was the legal
assertion that the King was subject to the law.
Together with this resolute denial of the absolute
right of kings went the assertion that Parliament
(35) was unlimited in its power: it could change even
the Constitution by its ordinary acts of legislation.
By the eighteenth century the English had accepted
the idea that the parliamentary representatives of
the people were omnipotent.

(40) The citizens of these colonies did not look upon
the English Parliament with such fond eyes, nor did
they concede that their own assemblies possessed
such wide powers. There were good historical
reasons for this. To the English the word
(45) “constitution”meant the whole body of law and
legal custom formulated since the beginning of the
kingdom, whereas to these colonials a constitution
was a specific written document, enumerating
specific powers. This distinction in meaning can be
(50) traced to the fact that the foundations of government
in the various colonies were written charters granted
by the Crown. These express authorizations to
govern were tangible, definite things. Over the years
these colonials had often repaired to the charters to
(55) justify themselves in the struggle against tyrannical
governors or officials of the Crown. More than a
century of government under written constitutions
convinced these colonists of the necessity for and
efficacy of protecting their liberties against
(60) governmental encroachment by explicitly defining
all governmental powers in a document.