PSAT-Reading : Preliminary Scholastic Aptitude Test - Reading

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ここでは、Xhs1991 PSAT-Reading試験資料は、あなたのPSAT PSAT-Reading証明試験を通過することおよびPSAT認定証明書を得ることを手助けします。我々の試験資材は、技術的な正確さで最も高い標準に書かれます。そして、PSAT-Readingの試験質問と回答は、経験豊かな専門家によって編集されて、ヒット率の99.9%を持ちます。もしあなたが、PSAT PSAT-Reading試験の準備をするのに良いアイデアを全然持っていないならば、Xhs1991はあなたの最もよい選択です。

短時間で試験知識を読み取り

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正確の質問解答と高い通過率

Xhs1991のPSAT-Reading勉強資料は本当の質問と正確の解答があって、試験のキーポイントを捉えます。受験者たちは使用してからPSAT-Reading試験に高いポイントを得られます。Xhs1991 PSAT-Reading勉強資料は販売して以来、高い通過率で業界に多くの人から愛顧されます。

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PSAT PSAT-Reading 試験シラバストピック:

PSAT Preliminary Scholastic Aptitude Test - Reading 認定 PSAT-Reading 試験問題：

1. The life of the lightening bug is __________ to human eyes: They live only twenty-four hours.

A) ecstatic
B) ludicrous
C) incandescent
D) ephemeral
E) epic

2. Hitherto impossible research has been made ______ by the new technology recently engineered by her
company with greatly enhanced scope and depth of mapping the core of the earth.

A) problematic
B) controversial
C) feasible
D) commonplace
E) resolute

3. The new team member's __________ was an encouragement to the rest of the team, who had become
__________ by the string of defeats.

A) enthusiasm. .elated
B) ebullience. .dispirited
C) excessiveness. .downcast
D) vigor. .inundated
E) dourness. .undone

4. Oliver Goldsmith (17301774) wrote criticism, plays, novels, biographies, travelogues, and nearly every
other conceivable kind of composition. This good-humored essay is from a series published in the Public
Ledger and then in book form as The Citizen of the World (1762).
Were we to estimate the learning of the English by the number of books that are every day published
among them, perhaps no country, not even China itself, could equal them in this particular. I have
reckoned not less than twenty-three new books published in one day, which, upon computation, makes
eight thousand three hundred and ninety-five in one year. Most of these are not confined to one single
science, but embrace the whole circle. History, politics, poetry, mathematics, metaphysics, and the
philosophy of nature, are all comprised in a manual no larger than that in which our children are taught the
letters. If then, we suppose the learned of England to read but an eighth part of the works which daily
come from the press and surely non can pretend to learning upon less easy terms), at this rate every
scholar will read a thousand books in one year. From such a calculation, you may conjecture what an
amazing fund of literature a man must be possessed of, who thus reads three new books every day, not
one of which but contains all the good things that ever were said or written.
And yet I know not how it happens, but the English are not, in reality so learned as would seem from this
calculation. We meet but few who know all arts and sciences to perfection; whether it is that the generality
are incapable of such extensive knowledge, or that the authors of those books are not adequate
instructors. In China, the Emperor himself takes cognizance of all the doctors in the kingdom who profess
authorship. In England, every man may be an author, that can write; for they have by law a liberty, not
only of saying what they please, but of being also as dull as they please.
Yesterday, as I testified to my surprise, to the man in black, where writers could be found in sufficient
number to throw off the books I saw daily crowding from the press. I at first imagined that their learned
seminaries might take this method of instructing the world. But, to obviate this objection, my companion
assured me that the doctors of colleges never wrote, and that some of them had actually forgot their
reading. "But if you desire," continued he, "to see a collection of authors, I fancy I can introduce you to a
club, which assembles every Saturday at seven . . . ." I accepted his invitation; we walked together, and
entered the house some time before the usual hour for the company assembling. My friend took this
opportunity of letting me into the characters of the principal members of the club . . . "The first person,"
said he, "of our society is Doctor Nonentity, a metaphysician. Most people think him a profound scholar,
but, as he seldom speaks, I cannot be positive in that particular; he generally spreads himself before the
fire, sucks his pipe, talks little, drinks much, and is reckoned very good company. I'm told he writes
indexes to perfection: he makes essays on the origin of evil, philosophical inquiries upon any subject, and
draws up an answer to any book upon 24 hours' warning . . . ."
The tone of paragraph 2 may best be described as

A) solemn
B) affectionate
C) sardonic
D) self-satisfied
E) awestruck

5. Pauline Johnson (18611913) was the daughter of Mohawk leader George Henry Martin; her mother was
English. Johnson was known in her time as a poet and performer. For years she toured throughout
Canada giving dramatic readings. Late in her life she turned to writing short stories. This excerpt is from
"A Red Girl's Reasoning," first published in 1893.
How interesting--do tell us some more of your old home, Mrs. McDonald; you so seldom speak of your life
at the post, and we fellows so often wish to hear of it all," said Logan eagerly.
"Why do you not ask me of it, then?" "Well--er, I'm sure I don't know; I'm fully interested in the Ind --in your
people--your mother's people, I mean, but it always seems so personal, I suppose; and --a --a--" "Perhaps
you are, like all other white people, afraid to mention my nationality to me."
The captain winced, and Mrs. Stuart laughed uneasily. Joe McDonald was not far off, and he was listening,
and chuckling, and saying to himself, "That's you, Christie, lay `em out; it won't hurt `em to know how they
appear once in a while." "Well, Captain Logan," she was saying, "what is it you would like to hear--of my
people, or my parents, or myself?" "All, all, my dear," cried Mrs. Stuart clamorously. "I'll speak for him--tell
us of yourself and your mother--your father is delightful, I am sure--but then he is only an ordinary
Englishman, not half so interesting as a foreigner, or--or perhaps I should say, a native."
Christie laughed. "Yes," she said, "my father often teases my mother now about how very native she was
when he married her; then, how could she have been otherwise? She did not know a word of English, and
there was not another English-speaking person besides my father and his two companions within sixty
miles." "Two companions, eh? One a Catholic priest and the other a wine merchant, I suppose, and with
your father in the Hudson Bay, they were good representatives of the pioneers in the New World,"
remarked Logan waggishly.
"Oh, no, they were all Hudson Bay men. There were no rumsellers and no missionaries in that part of the
country then." Mrs. Stuart looked puzzled. "No missionaries?" she repeated with an odd intonation.
Christie's insight was quick. There was a peculiar expression of interrogation in the eyes of her listeners,
and the girl's blood leapt angrily up into her temples as she said hurriedly, "I know what you mean; I know
what you are thinking. You are wondering how my parents were married --"
"Well--er, my dear, it seems peculiar if there was no priest, and no magistrate, why--a--" Mrs. Stuart
paused awkwardly.
"The marriage was performed by Indian rites," said Christie. "Oh, do tell about it; is the ceremony very
interesting and quaint--are your chieftains anything like Buddhist priests?" It was Logan who spoke.
"Why, no," said the girl in amazement at that gentleman's ignorance. "There is no ceremony at all, save a
feast. The two people just agree to live only with and for each other, and the man takes his wife to his
home, just as you do. There is no ritual to bind them; they need none; an Indian's word was his law in
those days, you know."
Mrs. Stuart stepped backwards. "Ah!" was all she said. Logan removed his eyeglass and stared blankly at
Christie. "And did McDonald marry you in this singular fashion?" he questioned. "Oh, no, we were married
by Father O'Leary. Why do you ask?"
"Because if he had, I'd have blown his brains out tomorrow." Mrs. Stuart's partner, who had heretofore
been silent, coughed and began to twirl his cuff stud nervously, but nobody took notice of him. Christie
had risen, slowly, ominously--risen, with the dignity and pride of an empress.
"Captain Logan," she said, "what do you dare to say to me? What do you dare to mean? Do you presume
to think it would not have been lawful for Joe to marry me according to my people's rites? Do you for one
instant dare to question that my parents were not as legally--"
"Don't, dear, don't," interrupted Mrs. Stuart hurriedly, "it is bad enough now, goodness knows; don't
make--" Then she broke off blindly.
The word post probably means

A) stake
B) mailroom
C) trading headquarters
D) assignment
E) register

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