I apologize if I( )you，but I assure you it was unintentional.

It( )we had stayed together for a couple of weeks( )I found we had a lot in common.

We just have to bear the hot weather these days.( )，it will be over soon.

The population of working age increased by 1 million between 1981 and 1986，( )today it is barely growing.

China is an agricultural country，therefore agriculture is inevitably( )in national economy.

A writer who wants to convince his readers of a point of view must marshall his arguments assert the virtues of his opinions，and( )the possible protests of the opposition.

The shutters stood( )，and through one of the newly-washed windows I caught the light of a fire.

My son failed to come back last night.This morming the police came to our house and( )my worst fears that he was injured in a car accident.

Once environmental damage( )，it takes many years for the system to recover.

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

She ought to stop working.She has a headache because she( )too long.

( )to speak when the audience interrupted him.

Neither of the young men who had applied for a position in the university _____.

The machinery had been wrecked so efficiently that police were sure it was a case of ( )

He chose medicine but found，once again，some lack of meaning and so interrupted his studies first to collect( )in the Amazon River and later to spend time recuperating from illness by a trip to Europe.

Today is Children’s Day，you are allowed to eat( )in my restaurant.

Year-end bonus will be( )according to individual contribution.

( )，he does get annoyed with her sometimes.

The old man has developed a( )headache which cannot be cured in a short time.

Members of House of Commons hold their seat for( )years at most.

Australia has several different climatic regions，from warm to( )and tropical.

The indigenous people in Australia are( )，which have 2.2% of the total population in 2001.

When did the War of Independence of America break out？( )

Britain’s first permanent colony in Australia was founded in( ).

The number of the Representatives from each American state depends on the( ).

The first ten amendments，known as( )were added to the American Constitution in 1791.

( ) is regarded as the“father of American literature”

Waiting for Godot is written by ( )

Alexander Pope was an outstanding enlightener and the greatest English poet of school in ( ) the first half of the 18th century.

Which of the following is NOT included in G.Leech′s seven types of meaning？( )

The Cooperative Principle is proposed by ( ).

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

The formation of new words by combining parts of two words or a word plus a part of another is ( ) called

The word“motel” is formed via word formation rule of ( )

The semantic triangle holds that the meaning of a word ( )

The smallest meaningful unit of language is ( )

“X buys something from Y” and“Y sells something to X” are in a relation of ( )

( ) deals with the relationship between the linguistic element and the non-linguistic worldexperience.

Which one of the following maxims is not included in the Cooperative Principle？( )

Which of the following sounds does not belong to the allomorphs of the English plural morpheme？( )

Which one of the following studies the internal structure of words， and the rules by which words are ( ) formed？

What is the charm of necklaces? Why would anyone put something extra around her neck and then invest it with special significance? A necklace doesn’t afford warmth in cold weather, like a scarf, or protection in combat, like chain mail; it only decorates. We might say it borrows meaning from what it surrounds and sets off: the head with its supremely important material contents, and the face, that register of the soul. When photograph reduces the reality it represents, they mention not only the passage from three dimensions to two, but also the selection of a?point du vue?favors the top of the body rather than the bottom and the front rather than the back. The face is the jewel in the crown of the body, and so we give it a setting.

　　When people are intensely concerned with something that is obviously impractical, anthropologists take note, for lovely useless things often express archaic to exist in contemporary American houses already heated by gas and electricity, yet most people want one and it is still the focus of the living room. This desire testifies, I think, to the hundreds of thousands of years during which we Homo sapiens huddled around a cave fire. We watch ourselves, rather anxiously, vanish backward down those lone temporary corridors, as my daughter gazes at her infinitely multiplied small self in the mutually opposed mirrors of the beauty salon, and wonders, is it me? Our fireplaces and necklaces and tombstones say it is, they are.

　　In American culture, an interest in necklaces seems to be rather gender specific. Many men to whom I mention the enterprise feign polite interest and then change the subject, though I know some who admire, construct, and wear necklaces, including the distinguished scientist and poet to whom this essay is dedicated. Most women, by contrast, become mildly or wildly enthusiastic. A doctor in Blois brought out her entire collection of costume jewelry for me, exhibited the most splendid pieces with an account o

What is the charm of necklaces? Why would anyone put something extra around her neck and then invest it with special significance? A necklace doesn’t afford warmth in cold weather, like a scarf, or protection in combat, like chain mail; it only decorates. We might say it borrows meaning from what it surrounds and sets off: the head with its supremely important material contents, and the face, that register of the soul. When photograph reduces the reality it represents, they mention not only the passage from three dimensions to two, but also the selection of a?point du vue?favors the top of the body rather than the bottom and the front rather than the back. The face is the jewel in the crown of the body, and so we give it a setting.

　　When people are intensely concerned with something that is obviously impractical, anthropologists take note, for lovely useless things often express archaic to exist in contemporary American houses already heated by gas and electricity, yet most people want one and it is still the focus of the living room. This desire testifies, I think, to the hundreds of thousands of years during which we Homo sapiens huddled around a cave fire. We watch ourselves, rather anxiously, vanish backward down those lone temporary corridors, as my daughter gazes at her infinitely multiplied small self in the mutually opposed mirrors of the beauty salon, and wonders, is it me? Our fireplaces and necklaces and tombstones say it is, they are.

　　In American culture, an interest in necklaces seems to be rather gender specific. Many men to whom I mention the enterprise feign polite interest and then change the subject, though I know some who admire, construct, and wear necklaces, including the distinguished scientist and poet to whom this essay is dedicated. Most women, by contrast, become mildly or wildly enthusiastic. A doctor in Blois brought out her entire collection of costume jewelry for me, exhibited the most splendid pieces with an account o

What is the charm of necklaces? Why would anyone put something extra around her neck and then invest it with special significance? A necklace doesn’t afford warmth in cold weather, like a scarf, or protection in combat, like chain mail; it only decorates. We might say it borrows meaning from what it surrounds and sets off: the head with its supremely important material contents, and the face, that register of the soul. When photograph reduces the reality it represents, they mention not only the passage from three dimensions to two, but also the selection of a?point du vue?favors the top of the body rather than the bottom and the front rather than the back. The face is the jewel in the crown of the body, and so we give it a setting.

　　When people are intensely concerned with something that is obviously impractical, anthropologists take note, for lovely useless things often express archaic to exist in contemporary American houses already heated by gas and electricity, yet most people want one and it is still the focus of the living room. This desire testifies, I think, to the hundreds of thousands of years during which we Homo sapiens huddled around a cave fire. We watch ourselves, rather anxiously, vanish backward down those lone temporary corridors, as my daughter gazes at her infinitely multiplied small self in the mutually opposed mirrors of the beauty salon, and wonders, is it me? Our fireplaces and necklaces and tombstones say it is, they are.

　　In American culture, an interest in necklaces seems to be rather gender specific. Many men to whom I mention the enterprise feign polite interest and then change the subject, though I know some who admire, construct, and wear necklaces, including the distinguished scientist and poet to whom this essay is dedicated. Most women, by contrast, become mildly or wildly enthusiastic. A doctor in Blois brought out her entire collection of costume jewelry for me, exhibited the most splendid pieces with an account o

What is the charm of necklaces? Why would anyone put something extra around her neck and then invest it with special significance? A necklace doesn’t afford warmth in cold weather, like a scarf, or protection in combat, like chain mail; it only decorates. We might say it borrows meaning from what it surrounds and sets off: the head with its supremely important material contents, and the face, that register of the soul. When photograph reduces the reality it represents, they mention not only the passage from three dimensions to two, but also the selection of a?point du vue?favors the top of the body rather than the bottom and the front rather than the back. The face is the jewel in the crown of the body, and so we give it a setting.

　　When people are intensely concerned with something that is obviously impractical, anthropologists take note, for lovely useless things often express archaic to exist in contemporary American houses already heated by gas and electricity, yet most people want one and it is still the focus of the living room. This desire testifies, I think, to the hundreds of thousands of years during which we Homo sapiens huddled around a cave fire. We watch ourselves, rather anxiously, vanish backward down those lone temporary corridors, as my daughter gazes at her infinitely multiplied small self in the mutually opposed mirrors of the beauty salon, and wonders, is it me? Our fireplaces and necklaces and tombstones say it is, they are.

　　In American culture, an interest in necklaces seems to be rather gender specific. Many men to whom I mention the enterprise feign polite interest and then change the subject, though I know some who admire, construct, and wear necklaces, including the distinguished scientist and poet to whom this essay is dedicated. Most women, by contrast, become mildly or wildly enthusiastic. A doctor in Blois brought out her entire collection of costume jewelry for me, exhibited the most splendid pieces with an account o

What is the charm of necklaces? Why would anyone put something extra around her neck and then invest it with special significance? A necklace doesn’t afford warmth in cold weather, like a scarf, or protection in combat, like chain mail; it only decorates. We might say it borrows meaning from what it surrounds and sets off: the head with its supremely important material contents, and the face, that register of the soul. When photograph reduces the reality it represents, they mention not only the passage from three dimensions to two, but also the selection of a?point du vue?favors the top of the body rather than the bottom and the front rather than the back. The face is the jewel in the crown of the body, and so we give it a setting.

　　When people are intensely concerned with something that is obviously impractical, anthropologists take note, for lovely useless things often express archaic to exist in contemporary American houses already heated by gas and electricity, yet most people want one and it is still the focus of the living room. This desire testifies, I think, to the hundreds of thousands of years during which we Homo sapiens huddled around a cave fire. We watch ourselves, rather anxiously, vanish backward down those lone temporary corridors, as my daughter gazes at her infinitely multiplied small self in the mutually opposed mirrors of the beauty salon, and wonders, is it me? Our fireplaces and necklaces and tombstones say it is, they are.

　　In American culture, an interest in necklaces seems to be rather gender specific. Many men to whom I mention the enterprise feign polite interest and then change the subject, though I know some who admire, construct, and wear necklaces, including the distinguished scientist and poet to whom this essay is dedicated. Most women, by contrast, become mildly or wildly enthusiastic. A doctor in Blois brought out her entire collection of costume jewelry for me, exhibited the most splendid pieces with an account o

The age at which young children begin to make moral discriminations about harmful actions committed against themselves or others has been the focus of recent research into the moral development of children. Until recently, child psychologists supported pioneer developmentalist Jean Piaget in his hypothesis that because of their immaturity, children under age seven do not take into account the intentions of a person committing accidental or deliberate harm, but rather simply assign punishment for transgressions on the basis of the magnitude of the negative consequences caused. According to Piaget, children under age seven occupy the first stage of moral development, which is characterized by moral absolutism (rules made by authorities must be obeyed) and imminent justice (if rules are broken, punishment will be meted out). Until young children mature, their moral judgments are based entirely on the effect rather than the cause of a transgression. However, in recent research, Keasey found that six-year-old children not only distinguish between accidental and intentional harm, but also judge intentional harm as naughtier, regardless of the amount of damage produced. Both of these findings seem to indicate that children, at an earlier age than Piaget claimed, advance into the second stage of moral development, moral autonomy, in which they accept social rules but view them as more arbitrary than do children in the first stage.

　　Keasey’s research raises two key questions for developmental psychologists about children under age seven: do they recognize justifications for harmful actions, and do they make distinctions between harmful acts that are preventable and those acts that have unforeseen harmful consequences? Studies indicate that justifications excusing harmful actions might include?public?duty, self-defense, and provocation. For example, Nesdale and Rule concluded that children were capable of considering whether or not an aggressor’s action was justifie

The age at which young children begin to make moral discriminations about harmful actions committed against themselves or others has been the focus of recent research into the moral development of children. Until recently, child psychologists supported pioneer developmentalist Jean Piaget in his hypothesis that because of their immaturity, children under age seven do not take into account the intentions of a person committing accidental or deliberate harm, but rather simply assign punishment for transgressions on the basis of the magnitude of the negative consequences caused. According to Piaget, children under age seven occupy the first stage of moral development, which is characterized by moral absolutism (rules made by authorities must be obeyed) and imminent justice (if rules are broken, punishment will be meted out). Until young children mature, their moral judgments are based entirely on the effect rather than the cause of a transgression. However, in recent research, Keasey found that six-year-old children not only distinguish between accidental and intentional harm, but also judge intentional harm as naughtier, regardless of the amount of damage produced. Both of these findings seem to indicate that children, at an earlier age than Piaget claimed, advance into the second stage of moral development, moral autonomy, in which they accept social rules but view them as more arbitrary than do children in the first stage.

　　Keasey’s research raises two key questions for developmental psychologists about children under age seven: do they recognize justifications for harmful actions, and do they make distinctions between harmful acts that are preventable and those acts that have unforeseen harmful consequences? Studies indicate that justifications excusing harmful actions might include?public?duty, self-defense, and provocation. For example, Nesdale and Rule concluded that children were capable of considering whether or not an aggressor’s action was justifie

The age at which young children begin to make moral discriminations about harmful actions committed against themselves or others has been the focus of recent research into the moral development of children. Until recently, child psychologists supported pioneer developmentalist Jean Piaget in his hypothesis that because of their immaturity, children under age seven do not take into account the intentions of a person committing accidental or deliberate harm, but rather simply assign punishment for transgressions on the basis of the magnitude of the negative consequences caused. According to Piaget, children under age seven occupy the first stage of moral development, which is characterized by moral absolutism (rules made by authorities must be obeyed) and imminent justice (if rules are broken, punishment will be meted out). Until young children mature, their moral judgments are based entirely on the effect rather than the cause of a transgression. However, in recent research, Keasey found that six-year-old children not only distinguish between accidental and intentional harm, but also judge intentional harm as naughtier, regardless of the amount of damage produced. Both of these findings seem to indicate that children, at an earlier age than Piaget claimed, advance into the second stage of moral development, moral autonomy, in which they accept social rules but view them as more arbitrary than do children in the first stage.

　　Keasey’s research raises two key questions for developmental psychologists about children under age seven: do they recognize justifications for harmful actions, and do they make distinctions between harmful acts that are preventable and those acts that have unforeseen harmful consequences? Studies indicate that justifications excusing harmful actions might include?public?duty, self-defense, and provocation. For example, Nesdale and Rule concluded that children were capable of considering whether or not an aggressor’s action was justifie

The age at which young children begin to make moral discriminations about harmful actions committed against themselves or others has been the focus of recent research into the moral development of children. Until recently, child psychologists supported pioneer developmentalist Jean Piaget in his hypothesis that because of their immaturity, children under age seven do not take into account the intentions of a person committing accidental or deliberate harm, but rather simply assign punishment for transgressions on the basis of the magnitude of the negative consequences caused. According to Piaget, children under age seven occupy the first stage of moral development, which is characterized by moral absolutism (rules made by authorities must be obeyed) and imminent justice (if rules are broken, punishment will be meted out). Until young children mature, their moral judgments are based entirely on the effect rather than the cause of a transgression. However, in recent research, Keasey found that six-year-old children not only distinguish between accidental and intentional harm, but also judge intentional harm as naughtier, regardless of the amount of damage produced. Both of these findings seem to indicate that children, at an earlier age than Piaget claimed, advance into the second stage of moral development, moral autonomy, in which they accept social rules but view them as more arbitrary than do children in the first stage.

　　Keasey’s research raises two key questions for developmental psychologists about children under age seven: do they recognize justifications for harmful actions, and do they make distinctions between harmful acts that are preventable and those acts that have unforeseen harmful consequences? Studies indicate that justifications excusing harmful actions might include?public?duty, self-defense, and provocation. For example, Nesdale and Rule concluded that children were capable of considering whether or not an aggressor’s action was justifie

The age at which young children begin to make moral discriminations about harmful actions committed against themselves or others has been the focus of recent research into the moral development of children. Until recently, child psychologists supported pioneer developmentalist Jean Piaget in his hypothesis that because of their immaturity, children under age seven do not take into account the intentions of a person committing accidental or deliberate harm, but rather simply assign punishment for transgressions on the basis of the magnitude of the negative consequences caused. According to Piaget, children under age seven occupy the first stage of moral development, which is characterized by moral absolutism (rules made by authorities must be obeyed) and imminent justice (if rules are broken, punishment will be meted out). Until young children mature, their moral judgments are based entirely on the effect rather than the cause of a transgression. However, in recent research, Keasey found that six-year-old children not only distinguish between accidental and intentional harm, but also judge intentional harm as naughtier, regardless of the amount of damage produced. Both of these findings seem to indicate that children, at an earlier age than Piaget claimed, advance into the second stage of moral development, moral autonomy, in which they accept social rules but view them as more arbitrary than do children in the first stage.

　　Keasey’s research raises two key questions for developmental psychologists about children under age seven: do they recognize justifications for harmful actions, and do they make distinctions between harmful acts that are preventable and those acts that have unforeseen harmful consequences? Studies indicate that justifications excusing harmful actions might include?public?duty, self-defense, and provocation. For example, Nesdale and Rule concluded that children were capable of considering whether or not an aggressor’s action was justifie

The world is going through the biggest wave of mergers and acquisitions ever witnessed. The process sweeps from hyperactive America to Europe and reaches the emerging countries with unsurpassed might. Many in these countries are looking at this process and worrying: “Won’t the wave of business concentration turn into an uncontrollable anti-competitive force?”

　　There’s no question that the big are getting bigger and more powerful. Multinational corporations accounted for less than 20% of international trade in 1982. Today the figure is more than 25% and growing rapidly. International affiliates account for a fast-growing segment of production in economies that open up and welcome foreign investment. In Argentina, for instance, after the reforms of the early 1990s, multinationals went from 43% to almost 70% of the industrial production of the 200 largest firms. This phenomenon has created serious concerns over the role of smaller economic firms, of national businessmen and over the ultimate stability, of the world economy.

　　I believe that the most important forces behind the massive M&A wave are the same that underlie the globalization process: falling transportation, and communication costs, lower trade and investment barriers and enlarged markets that require enlarged operations capable of meeting customers’ demands. All these are beneficial, not detrimental to consumers. As productivity grows, the world’s wealth increases.

　　Examples of benefits or costs of the current concentration-wave are scanty. Yet it is hard to imagine that the merge of a few oil firms today could recreate the same threats to competition that were feared nearly a century ago in the U.S., when the Standard Oil trust was broken up. The mergers of telecom companies, such as World Corn, hardly seem to bring higher prices for consumers or a reduction in the pace of technical progress. On the contrary, the price of communications is coming down fast. In cars, too, concentrati

The world is going through the biggest wave of mergers and acquisitions ever witnessed. The process sweeps from hyperactive America to Europe and reaches the emerging countries with unsurpassed might. Many in these countries are looking at this process and worrying: “Won’t the wave of business concentration turn into an uncontrollable anti-competitive force?”

　　There’s no question that the big are getting bigger and more powerful. Multinational corporations accounted for less than 20% of international trade in 1982. Today the figure is more than 25% and growing rapidly. International affiliates account for a fast-growing segment of production in economies that open up and welcome foreign investment. In Argentina, for instance, after the reforms of the early 1990s, multinationals went from 43% to almost 70% of the industrial production of the 200 largest firms. This phenomenon has created serious concerns over the role of smaller economic firms, of national businessmen and over the ultimate stability, of the world economy.

　　I believe that the most important forces behind the massive M&A wave are the same that underlie the globalization process: falling transportation, and communication costs, lower trade and investment barriers and enlarged markets that require enlarged operations capable of meeting customers’ demands. All these are beneficial, not detrimental to consumers. As productivity grows, the world’s wealth increases.

　　Examples of benefits or costs of the current concentration-wave are scanty. Yet it is hard to imagine that the merge of a few oil firms today could recreate the same threats to competition that were feared nearly a century ago in the U.S., when the Standard Oil trust was broken up. The mergers of telecom companies, such as World Corn, hardly seem to bring higher prices for consumers or a reduction in the pace of technical progress. On the contrary, the price of communications is coming down fast. In cars, too, concentrati

The world is going through the biggest wave of mergers and acquisitions ever witnessed. The process sweeps from hyperactive America to Europe and reaches the emerging countries with unsurpassed might. Many in these countries are looking at this process and worrying: “Won’t the wave of business concentration turn into an uncontrollable anti-competitive force?”

　　There’s no question that the big are getting bigger and more powerful. Multinational corporations accounted for less than 20% of international trade in 1982. Today the figure is more than 25% and growing rapidly. International affiliates account for a fast-growing segment of production in economies that open up and welcome foreign investment. In Argentina, for instance, after the reforms of the early 1990s, multinationals went from 43% to almost 70% of the industrial production of the 200 largest firms. This phenomenon has created serious concerns over the role of smaller economic firms, of national businessmen and over the ultimate stability, of the world economy.

　　I believe that the most important forces behind the massive M&A wave are the same that underlie the globalization process: falling transportation, and communication costs, lower trade and investment barriers and enlarged markets that require enlarged operations capable of meeting customers’ demands. All these are beneficial, not detrimental to consumers. As productivity grows, the world’s wealth increases.

　　Examples of benefits or costs of the current concentration-wave are scanty. Yet it is hard to imagine that the merge of a few oil firms today could recreate the same threats to competition that were feared nearly a century ago in the U.S., when the Standard Oil trust was broken up. The mergers of telecom companies, such as World Corn, hardly seem to bring higher prices for consumers or a reduction in the pace of technical progress. On the contrary, the price of communications is coming down fast. In cars, too, concentrati

The world is going through the biggest wave of mergers and acquisitions ever witnessed. The process sweeps from hyperactive America to Europe and reaches the emerging countries with unsurpassed might. Many in these countries are looking at this process and worrying: “Won’t the wave of business concentration turn into an uncontrollable anti-competitive force?”

　　There’s no question that the big are getting bigger and more powerful. Multinational corporations accounted for less than 20% of international trade in 1982. Today the figure is more than 25% and growing rapidly. International affiliates account for a fast-growing segment of production in economies that open up and welcome foreign investment. In Argentina, for instance, after the reforms of the early 1990s, multinationals went from 43% to almost 70% of the industrial production of the 200 largest firms. This phenomenon has created serious concerns over the role of smaller economic firms, of national businessmen and over the ultimate stability, of the world economy.

　　I believe that the most important forces behind the massive M&A wave are the same that underlie the globalization process: falling transportation, and communication costs, lower trade and investment barriers and enlarged markets that require enlarged operations capable of meeting customers’ demands. All these are beneficial, not detrimental to consumers. As productivity grows, the world’s wealth increases.

　　Examples of benefits or costs of the current concentration-wave are scanty. Yet it is hard to imagine that the merge of a few oil firms today could recreate the same threats to competition that were feared nearly a century ago in the U.S., when the Standard Oil trust was broken up. The mergers of telecom companies, such as World Corn, hardly seem to bring higher prices for consumers or a reduction in the pace of technical progress. On the contrary, the price of communications is coming down fast. In cars, too, concentrati

The world is going through the biggest wave of mergers and acquisitions ever witnessed. The process sweeps from hyperactive America to Europe and reaches the emerging countries with unsurpassed might. Many in these countries are looking at this process and worrying: “Won’t the wave of business concentration turn into an uncontrollable anti-competitive force?”

　　There’s no question that the big are getting bigger and more powerful. Multinational corporations accounted for less than 20% of international trade in 1982. Today the figure is more than 25% and growing rapidly. International affiliates account for a fast-growing segment of production in economies that open up and welcome foreign investment. In Argentina, for instance, after the reforms of the early 1990s, multinationals went from 43% to almost 70% of the industrial production of the 200 largest firms. This phenomenon has created serious concerns over the role of smaller economic firms, of national businessmen and over the ultimate stability, of the world economy.

　　I believe that the most important forces behind the massive M&A wave are the same that underlie the globalization process: falling transportation, and communication costs, lower trade and investment barriers and enlarged markets that require enlarged operations capable of meeting customers’ demands. All these are beneficial, not detrimental to consumers. As productivity grows, the world’s wealth increases.

　　Examples of benefits or costs of the current concentration-wave are scanty. Yet it is hard to imagine that the merge of a few oil firms today could recreate the same threats to competition that were feared nearly a century ago in the U.S., when the Standard Oil trust was broken up. The mergers of telecom companies, such as World Corn, hardly seem to bring higher prices for consumers or a reduction in the pace of technical progress. On the contrary, the price of communications is coming down fast. In cars, too, concentrati

“Popular art” has a number of meanings, impossible to define with any precision, which range from folklore to junk. The poles are clear enough, but the middle tends to blur. The Hollywood Western of the 1930’s, for example, has elements of folklore, but is closer to junk than to high art or folk art. There can be great trash, just as there is bad high art. The musicals of George Gershwin are great popular art, never aspiring to high art. Schubert and Brahms, however, used elements of popular music—folk themes—in works clearly intended as high art. The case of Verdi is a different one: he took a popular genre—bourgeois melodrama set to music (an accurate definition of nineteenth-century opera)—and, without altering its fundamental nature, transmuted it into high art. This remains one of the greatest achievements in music, and one that cannot be fully appreciated without recognizing the essential trashiness of the genre.

　　As an example of such a transmutation, consider what Verdi made of the typical political elements of nineteenth-century opera. Generally in the plots of these operas, a hero or heroine—usually portrayed only as an individual, unfettered by class—is caught between the immoral corruption of the aristocracy and the doctrinaire rigidity or secret greed of the leaders of the proletariat. Verdi transforms this naive and unlikely formulation with music of extraordinary energy and rhythmic vitality, music more subtle than it seems at first hearing. There are scenes and arias that still sound like calls to arms and were clearly understood as such when they were first performed. Such pieces lend an immediacy to the otherwise veiled political message of these operas and call up feelings beyond those of the opera itself.

　　Or consider Verdi’s treatment of character. Before Verdi, there were rarely any characters at all in musical drama, only a series of situations which allowed the singers to express a series of emotional states. Any attempt to f

“Popular art” has a number of meanings, impossible to define with any precision, which range from folklore to junk. The poles are clear enough, but the middle tends to blur. The Hollywood Western of the 1930’s, for example, has elements of folklore, but is closer to junk than to high art or folk art. There can be great trash, just as there is bad high art. The musicals of George Gershwin are great popular art, never aspiring to high art. Schubert and Brahms, however, used elements of popular music—folk themes—in works clearly intended as high art. The case of Verdi is a different one: he took a popular genre—bourgeois melodrama set to music (an accurate definition of nineteenth-century opera)—and, without altering its fundamental nature, transmuted it into high art. This remains one of the greatest achievements in music, and one that cannot be fully appreciated without recognizing the essential trashiness of the genre.

　　As an example of such a transmutation, consider what Verdi made of the typical political elements of nineteenth-century opera. Generally in the plots of these operas, a hero or heroine—usually portrayed only as an individual, unfettered by class—is caught between the immoral corruption of the aristocracy and the doctrinaire rigidity or secret greed of the leaders of the proletariat. Verdi transforms this naive and unlikely formulation with music of extraordinary energy and rhythmic vitality, music more subtle than it seems at first hearing. There are scenes and arias that still sound like calls to arms and were clearly understood as such when they were first performed. Such pieces lend an immediacy to the otherwise veiled political message of these operas and call up feelings beyond those of the opera itself.

　　Or consider Verdi’s treatment of character. Before Verdi, there were rarely any characters at all in musical drama, only a series of situations which allowed the singers to express a series of emotional states. Any attempt to f

“Popular art” has a number of meanings, impossible to define with any precision, which range from folklore to junk. The poles are clear enough, but the middle tends to blur. The Hollywood Western of the 1930’s, for example, has elements of folklore, but is closer to junk than to high art or folk art. There can be great trash, just as there is bad high art. The musicals of George Gershwin are great popular art, never aspiring to high art. Schubert and Brahms, however, used elements of popular music—folk themes—in works clearly intended as high art. The case of Verdi is a different one: he took a popular genre—bourgeois melodrama set to music (an accurate definition of nineteenth-century opera)—and, without altering its fundamental nature, transmuted it into high art. This remains one of the greatest achievements in music, and one that cannot be fully appreciated without recognizing the essential trashiness of the genre.

　　As an example of such a transmutation, consider what Verdi made of the typical political elements of nineteenth-century opera. Generally in the plots of these operas, a hero or heroine—usually portrayed only as an individual, unfettered by class—is caught between the immoral corruption of the aristocracy and the doctrinaire rigidity or secret greed of the leaders of the proletariat. Verdi transforms this naive and unlikely formulation with music of extraordinary energy and rhythmic vitality, music more subtle than it seems at first hearing. There are scenes and arias that still sound like calls to arms and were clearly understood as such when they were first performed. Such pieces lend an immediacy to the otherwise veiled political message of these operas and call up feelings beyond those of the opera itself.

　　Or consider Verdi’s treatment of character. Before Verdi, there were rarely any characters at all in musical drama, only a series of situations which allowed the singers to express a series of emotional states. Any attempt to f

“Popular art” has a number of meanings, impossible to define with any precision, which range from folklore to junk. The poles are clear enough, but the middle tends to blur. The Hollywood Western of the 1930’s, for example, has elements of folklore, but is closer to junk than to high art or folk art. There can be great trash, just as there is bad high art. The musicals of George Gershwin are great popular art, never aspiring to high art. Schubert and Brahms, however, used elements of popular music—folk themes—in works clearly intended as high art. The case of Verdi is a different one: he took a popular genre—bourgeois melodrama set to music (an accurate definition of nineteenth-century opera)—and, without altering its fundamental nature, transmuted it into high art. This remains one of the greatest achievements in music, and one that cannot be fully appreciated without recognizing the essential trashiness of the genre.

　　As an example of such a transmutation, consider what Verdi made of the typical political elements of nineteenth-century opera. Generally in the plots of these operas, a hero or heroine—usually portrayed only as an individual, unfettered by class—is caught between the immoral corruption of the aristocracy and the doctrinaire rigidity or secret greed of the leaders of the proletariat. Verdi transforms this naive and unlikely formulation with music of extraordinary energy and rhythmic vitality, music more subtle than it seems at first hearing. There are scenes and arias that still sound like calls to arms and were clearly understood as such when they were first performed. Such pieces lend an immediacy to the otherwise veiled political message of these operas and call up feelings beyond those of the opera itself.

　　Or consider Verdi’s treatment of character. Before Verdi, there were rarely any characters at all in musical drama, only a series of situations which allowed the singers to express a series of emotional states. Any attempt to f

“Popular art” has a number of meanings, impossible to define with any precision, which range from folklore to junk. The poles are clear enough, but the middle tends to blur. The Hollywood Western of the 1930’s, for example, has elements of folklore, but is closer to junk than to high art or folk art. There can be great trash, just as there is bad high art. The musicals of George Gershwin are great popular art, never aspiring to high art. Schubert and Brahms, however, used elements of popular music—folk themes—in works clearly intended as high art. The case of Verdi is a different one: he took a popular genre—bourgeois melodrama set to music (an accurate definition of nineteenth-century opera)—and, without altering its fundamental nature, transmuted it into high art. This remains one of the greatest achievements in music, and one that cannot be fully appreciated without recognizing the essential trashiness of the genre.

　　As an example of such a transmutation, consider what Verdi made of the typical political elements of nineteenth-century opera. Generally in the plots of these operas, a hero or heroine—usually portrayed only as an individual, unfettered by class—is caught between the immoral corruption of the aristocracy and the doctrinaire rigidity or secret greed of the leaders of the proletariat. Verdi transforms this naive and unlikely formulation with music of extraordinary energy and rhythmic vitality, music more subtle than it seems at first hearing. There are scenes and arias that still sound like calls to arms and were clearly understood as such when they were first performed. Such pieces lend an immediacy to the otherwise veiled political message of these operas and call up feelings beyond those of the opera itself.

　　Or consider Verdi’s treatment of character. Before Verdi, there were rarely any characters at all in musical drama, only a series of situations which allowed the singers to express a series of emotional states. Any attempt to f

To be fair, this observation is also frequently made of Canada and Canadians, and should best be considered North American. There are, of course, exceptions. Small-minded officials, rude waiters, and ill-mannered taxi drivers are hardly unknown in the US. Yet it is an observation made so frequently that it deserves comment. For a long period of time and in many parts of the country, a traveler was a welcome break in an otherwise dull existence. Dullness and loneliness were common problems of the families who generally lived distant from one another. Strangers and travelers were welcome sources of diversion, and brought news of the outside world. The harsh realities of the frontier also shaped this tradition of hospitality. Someone traveling alone, if hungry, injured, or ill, often had nowhere to turn except to the nearest cabin or settlement. It was not a matter of choice for the traveler or merely a charitable impulse on the part of the settlers. It reflected the harshness of daily life: if you didn’t take in the stranger and take care of him, there was no one else who would. And someday, remember, you might be in the same situation. Today there are many charitable organizations which specialize in helping the weary traveler. Yet, the old tradition of hospitality to strangers is still very strong in the US, especially in the smaller cities and towns away from the busy tourist trails. “I was just traveling through, got talking with this American, and pretty soon he invited me home for dinner—amazing.” Such observations reported by visitors to the US are not uncommon, but are not always understood properly. The casual friendliness of many Americans should be interpreted neither as superficial nor as artificial, but as the result of a historically developed cultural tradition. As is true of any developed society, in America a complex set of cultural signals, assumptions, and conventions underlies all social interrelationships. And, of course, speaking a language do

To be fair, this observation is also frequently made of Canada and Canadians, and should best be considered North American. There are, of course, exceptions. Small-minded officials, rude waiters, and ill-mannered taxi drivers are hardly unknown in the US. Yet it is an observation made so frequently that it deserves comment. For a long period of time and in many parts of the country, a traveler was a welcome break in an otherwise dull existence. Dullness and loneliness were common problems of the families who generally lived distant from one another. Strangers and travelers were welcome sources of diversion, and brought news of the outside world. The harsh realities of the frontier also shaped this tradition of hospitality. Someone traveling alone, if hungry, injured, or ill, often had nowhere to turn except to the nearest cabin or settlement. It was not a matter of choice for the traveler or merely a charitable impulse on the part of the settlers. It reflected the harshness of daily life: if you didn’t take in the stranger and take care of him, there was no one else who would. And someday, remember, you might be in the same situation. Today there are many charitable organizations which specialize in helping the weary traveler. Yet, the old tradition of hospitality to strangers is still very strong in the US, especially in the smaller cities and towns away from the busy tourist trails. “I was just traveling through, got talking with this American, and pretty soon he invited me home for dinner—amazing.” Such observations reported by visitors to the US are not uncommon, but are not always understood properly. The casual friendliness of many Americans should be interpreted neither as superficial nor as artificial, but as the result of a historically developed cultural tradition. As is true of any developed society, in America a complex set of cultural signals, assumptions, and conventions underlies all social interrelationships. And, of course, speaking a language do

To be fair, this observation is also frequently made of Canada and Canadians, and should best be considered North American. There are, of course, exceptions. Small-minded officials, rude waiters, and ill-mannered taxi drivers are hardly unknown in the US. Yet it is an observation made so frequently that it deserves comment. For a long period of time and in many parts of the country, a traveler was a welcome break in an otherwise dull existence. Dullness and loneliness were common problems of the families who generally lived distant from one another. Strangers and travelers were welcome sources of diversion, and brought news of the outside world. The harsh realities of the frontier also shaped this tradition of hospitality. Someone traveling alone, if hungry, injured, or ill, often had nowhere to turn except to the nearest cabin or settlement. It was not a matter of choice for the traveler or merely a charitable impulse on the part of the settlers. It reflected the harshness of daily life: if you didn’t take in the stranger and take care of him, there was no one else who would. And someday, remember, you might be in the same situation. Today there are many charitable organizations which specialize in helping the weary traveler. Yet, the old tradition of hospitality to strangers is still very strong in the US, especially in the smaller cities and towns away from the busy tourist trails. “I was just traveling through, got talking with this American, and pretty soon he invited me home for dinner—amazing.” Such observations reported by visitors to the US are not uncommon, but are not always understood properly. The casual friendliness of many Americans should be interpreted neither as superficial nor as artificial, but as the result of a historically developed cultural tradition. As is true of any developed society, in America a complex set of cultural signals, assumptions, and conventions underlies all social interrelationships. And, of course, speaking a language do

To be fair, this observation is also frequently made of Canada and Canadians, and should best be considered North American. There are, of course, exceptions. Small-minded officials, rude waiters, and ill-mannered taxi drivers are hardly unknown in the US. Yet it is an observation made so frequently that it deserves comment. For a long period of time and in many parts of the country, a traveler was a welcome break in an otherwise dull existence. Dullness and loneliness were common problems of the families who generally lived distant from one another. Strangers and travelers were welcome sources of diversion, and brought news of the outside world. The harsh realities of the frontier also shaped this tradition of hospitality. Someone traveling alone, if hungry, injured, or ill, often had nowhere to turn except to the nearest cabin or settlement. It was not a matter of choice for the traveler or merely a charitable impulse on the part of the settlers. It reflected the harshness of daily life: if you didn’t take in the stranger and take care of him, there was no one else who would. And someday, remember, you might be in the same situation. Today there are many charitable organizations which specialize in helping the weary traveler. Yet, the old tradition of hospitality to strangers is still very strong in the US, especially in the smaller cities and towns away from the busy tourist trails. “I was just traveling through, got talking with this American, and pretty soon he invited me home for dinner—amazing.” Such observations reported by visitors to the US are not uncommon, but are not always understood properly. The casual friendliness of many Americans should be interpreted neither as superficial nor as artificial, but as the result of a historically developed cultural tradition. As is true of any developed society, in America a complex set of cultural signals, assumptions, and conventions underlies all social interrelationships. And, of course, speaking a language do

To be fair, this observation is also frequently made of Canada and Canadians, and should best be considered North American. There are, of course, exceptions. Small-minded officials, rude waiters, and ill-mannered taxi drivers are hardly unknown in the US. Yet it is an observation made so frequently that it deserves comment. For a long period of time and in many parts of the country, a traveler was a welcome break in an otherwise dull existence. Dullness and loneliness were common problems of the families who generally lived distant from one another. Strangers and travelers were welcome sources of diversion, and brought news of the outside world. The harsh realities of the frontier also shaped this tradition of hospitality. Someone traveling alone, if hungry, injured, or ill, often had nowhere to turn except to the nearest cabin or settlement. It was not a matter of choice for the traveler or merely a charitable impulse on the part of the settlers. It reflected the harshness of daily life: if you didn’t take in the stranger and take care of him, there was no one else who would. And someday, remember, you might be in the same situation. Today there are many charitable organizations which specialize in helping the weary traveler. Yet, the old tradition of hospitality to strangers is still very strong in the US, especially in the smaller cities and towns away from the busy tourist trails. “I was just traveling through, got talking with this American, and pretty soon he invited me home for dinner—amazing.” Such observations reported by visitors to the US are not uncommon, but are not always understood properly. The casual friendliness of many Americans should be interpreted neither as superficial nor as artificial, but as the result of a historically developed cultural tradition. As is true of any developed society, in America a complex set of cultural signals, assumptions, and conventions underlies all social interrelationships. And, of course, speaking a language do

I live in the land of Disney, Hollywood and year-round sun. You may think people in such a glamorous, fun-filled p lace are happier than others. If so, you have some mistaken ideas about the nature of happiness.

　　Many intelligent people still equate happiness with fun. The truth is that fun and happiness have little or nothing in common. Fun is what we experience during an act. Happiness is what we experience after an act. It is a deeper more abiding emotion.

　　Going to an amusement park or ball game, watching a movie or television, are fun activities that help us relax, temporarily forget our problems and maybe even laugh. But they do not bring happiness, because their positive effects end when the fun ends.

　　I have often thought that if Hollywood stars have a role to play, it is to teach us that happiness has nothing to do with fan. These rich, beautiful individuals have constant access to glamorous parties, fancy cars, expensive homes, everything that spells “happiness”. But in memoir after memoir, celebrities reveal the unhappiness hidden beneath all their fun: depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, broken marriages, troubled children and profound loneliness.

　　Ask a bachelor why he resists marriage even though he finds dating to be less and less satisfying. If he’s honest, he will tell you that he is afraid of making a commitment. For commitment is in tact quite painful. The single life is filled with fun, adventure and excitement. Marriage has such moments, but they are not its most distinguishing features.

　　Similarly, couples that choose not to have children are deciding in favor of painless fun over painful happiness. They can dine out ever they want and sleep as late as they want. Couples with infant children are lucky to get a whole night’s sleep or a three-day vacation. I don’t know any parent who would choose the word fun to describe raising children.

　　Understanding and accepting that true happiness has nothing

I live in the land of Disney, Hollywood and year-round sun. You may think people in such a glamorous, fun-filled p lace are happier than others. If so, you have some mistaken ideas about the nature of happiness.

　　Many intelligent people still equate happiness with fun. The truth is that fun and happiness have little or nothing in common. Fun is what we experience during an act. Happiness is what we experience after an act. It is a deeper more abiding emotion.

　　Going to an amusement park or ball game, watching a movie or television, are fun activities that help us relax, temporarily forget our problems and maybe even laugh. But they do not bring happiness, because their positive effects end when the fun ends.

　　I have often thought that if Hollywood stars have a role to play, it is to teach us that happiness has nothing to do with fan. These rich, beautiful individuals have constant access to glamorous parties, fancy cars, expensive homes, everything that spells “happiness”. But in memoir after memoir, celebrities reveal the unhappiness hidden beneath all their fun: depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, broken marriages, troubled children and profound loneliness.

　　Ask a bachelor why he resists marriage even though he finds dating to be less and less satisfying. If he’s honest, he will tell you that he is afraid of making a commitment. For commitment is in tact quite painful. The single life is filled with fun, adventure and excitement. Marriage has such moments, but they are not its most distinguishing features.

　　Similarly, couples that choose not to have children are deciding in favor of painless fun over painful happiness. They can dine out ever they want and sleep as late as they want. Couples with infant children are lucky to get a whole night’s sleep or a three-day vacation. I don’t know any parent who would choose the word fun to describe raising children.

　　Understanding and accepting that true happiness has nothing

I live in the land of Disney, Hollywood and year-round sun. You may think people in such a glamorous, fun-filled p lace are happier than others. If so, you have some mistaken ideas about the nature of happiness.

　　Many intelligent people still equate happiness with fun. The truth is that fun and happiness have little or nothing in common. Fun is what we experience during an act. Happiness is what we experience after an act. It is a deeper more abiding emotion.

　　Going to an amusement park or ball game, watching a movie or television, are fun activities that help us relax, temporarily forget our problems and maybe even laugh. But they do not bring happiness, because their positive effects end when the fun ends.

　　I have often thought that if Hollywood stars have a role to play, it is to teach us that happiness has nothing to do with fan. These rich, beautiful individuals have constant access to glamorous parties, fancy cars, expensive homes, everything that spells “happiness”. But in memoir after memoir, celebrities reveal the unhappiness hidden beneath all their fun: depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, broken marriages, troubled children and profound loneliness.

　　Ask a bachelor why he resists marriage even though he finds dating to be less and less satisfying. If he’s honest, he will tell you that he is afraid of making a commitment. For commitment is in tact quite painful. The single life is filled with fun, adventure and excitement. Marriage has such moments, but they are not its most distinguishing features.

　　Similarly, couples that choose not to have children are deciding in favor of painless fun over painful happiness. They can dine out ever they want and sleep as late as they want. Couples with infant children are lucky to get a whole night’s sleep or a three-day vacation. I don’t know any parent who would choose the word fun to describe raising children.

　　Understanding and accepting that true happiness has nothing

I live in the land of Disney, Hollywood and year-round sun. You may think people in such a glamorous, fun-filled p lace are happier than others. If so, you have some mistaken ideas about the nature of happiness.

　　Many intelligent people still equate happiness with fun. The truth is that fun and happiness have little or nothing in common. Fun is what we experience during an act. Happiness is what we experience after an act. It is a deeper more abiding emotion.

　　Going to an amusement park or ball game, watching a movie or television, are fun activities that help us relax, temporarily forget our problems and maybe even laugh. But they do not bring happiness, because their positive effects end when the fun ends.

　　I have often thought that if Hollywood stars have a role to play, it is to teach us that happiness has nothing to do with fan. These rich, beautiful individuals have constant access to glamorous parties, fancy cars, expensive homes, everything that spells “happiness”. But in memoir after memoir, celebrities reveal the unhappiness hidden beneath all their fun: depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, broken marriages, troubled children and profound loneliness.

　　Ask a bachelor why he resists marriage even though he finds dating to be less and less satisfying. If he’s honest, he will tell you that he is afraid of making a commitment. For commitment is in tact quite painful. The single life is filled with fun, adventure and excitement. Marriage has such moments, but they are not its most distinguishing features.

　　Similarly, couples that choose not to have children are deciding in favor of painless fun over painful happiness. They can dine out ever they want and sleep as late as they want. Couples with infant children are lucky to get a whole night’s sleep or a three-day vacation. I don’t know any parent who would choose the word fun to describe raising children.

　　Understanding and accepting that true happiness has nothing

I live in the land of Disney, Hollywood and year-round sun. You may think people in such a glamorous, fun-filled p lace are happier than others. If so, you have some mistaken ideas about the nature of happiness.

　　Many intelligent people still equate happiness with fun. The truth is that fun and happiness have little or nothing in common. Fun is what we experience during an act. Happiness is what we experience after an act. It is a deeper more abiding emotion.

　　Going to an amusement park or ball game, watching a movie or television, are fun activities that help us relax, temporarily forget our problems and maybe even laugh. But they do not bring happiness, because their positive effects end when the fun ends.

　　I have often thought that if Hollywood stars have a role to play, it is to teach us that happiness has nothing to do with fan. These rich, beautiful individuals have constant access to glamorous parties, fancy cars, expensive homes, everything that spells “happiness”. But in memoir after memoir, celebrities reveal the unhappiness hidden beneath all their fun: depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, broken marriages, troubled children and profound loneliness.

　　Ask a bachelor why he resists marriage even though he finds dating to be less and less satisfying. If he’s honest, he will tell you that he is afraid of making a commitment. For commitment is in tact quite painful. The single life is filled with fun, adventure and excitement. Marriage has such moments, but they are not its most distinguishing features.

　　Similarly, couples that choose not to have children are deciding in favor of painless fun over painful happiness. They can dine out ever they want and sleep as late as they want. Couples with infant children are lucky to get a whole night’s sleep or a three-day vacation. I don’t know any parent who would choose the word fun to describe raising children.

　　Understanding and accepting that true happiness has nothing

“How many copies do you want printed, Mr. Greeley?”

　　“Five thousand!” The answer was snapped back without hesitation.

　　“But, sir,” the press foreman protested, “we have subscriptions for only five hundred newspapers.”

　　“We’ll sell them or give them away.”

　　The presses started rolling, sending a thundering noise out over the sleeping streets of New York City.?The New York Tribune?was born.

　　The newspaper’s founder, owner, and editor, Horace Greeley, anxiously snatched the first copy as it came sliding off the press. This was his dream of many years that he held in his hand. It was as precious as a child. Its birth was the result of years of poverty, hard work, and disappointments.

　　Hard luck and misfortune had followed Horace all his life. He was born of poor parents on February 3, 1811, on a small farm in New Hampshire. During his early childhood, the Greeley family rarely had enough to eat. They moved from one farm to another because they could not pay their debts. Young Horace’s only boyhood fun was reading—when he could snatch a few moments during a long working day.

　　The printed word always fascinated Horace. When he was only ten years old, he applied for a job as an apprentice in a printing shop. But he didn’t get the job because he was too young.

　　Four years later, Horace walked eleven miles to East Poultney in Vermont to answer an ad. A paper called?the Northern Spectator?had a job for a boy. The editor asked him why he wanted to boa printer, Horace spoke up boldly: “Because, sir, I want to learn all I can about newspapers.”

　　The editor looked at the oddly dressed boy. Finally he said, “You’ve got the job, son.”

　　For the first six months, room and board would be the only pay for his work. After that, he would get room and board and forty dollars a year.

　　Horace hurried home to shout the good news to his family. When he got there, he learned that his family was about to move again—

“How many copies do you want printed, Mr. Greeley?”

　　“Five thousand!” The answer was snapped back without hesitation.

　　“But, sir,” the press foreman protested, “we have subscriptions for only five hundred newspapers.”

　　“We’ll sell them or give them away.”

　　The presses started rolling, sending a thundering noise out over the sleeping streets of New York City.?The New York Tribune?was born.

　　The newspaper’s founder, owner, and editor, Horace Greeley, anxiously snatched the first copy as it came sliding off the press. This was his dream of many years that he held in his hand. It was as precious as a child. Its birth was the result of years of poverty, hard work, and disappointments.

　　Hard luck and misfortune had followed Horace all his life. He was born of poor parents on February 3, 1811, on a small farm in New Hampshire. During his early childhood, the Greeley family rarely had enough to eat. They moved from one farm to another because they could not pay their debts. Young Horace’s only boyhood fun was reading—when he could snatch a few moments during a long working day.

　　The printed word always fascinated Horace. When he was only ten years old, he applied for a job as an apprentice in a printing shop. But he didn’t get the job because he was too young.

　　Four years later, Horace walked eleven miles to East Poultney in Vermont to answer an ad. A paper called?the Northern Spectator?had a job for a boy. The editor asked him why he wanted to boa printer, Horace spoke up boldly: “Because, sir, I want to learn all I can about newspapers.”

　　The editor looked at the oddly dressed boy. Finally he said, “You’ve got the job, son.”

　　For the first six months, room and board would be the only pay for his work. After that, he would get room and board and forty dollars a year.

　　Horace hurried home to shout the good news to his family. When he got there, he learned that his family was about to move again—

“How many copies do you want printed, Mr. Greeley?”

　　“Five thousand!” The answer was snapped back without hesitation.

　　“But, sir,” the press foreman protested, “we have subscriptions for only five hundred newspapers.”

　　“We’ll sell them or give them away.”

　　The presses started rolling, sending a thundering noise out over the sleeping streets of New York City.?The New York Tribune?was born.

　　The newspaper’s founder, owner, and editor, Horace Greeley, anxiously snatched the first copy as it came sliding off the press. This was his dream of many years that he held in his hand. It was as precious as a child. Its birth was the result of years of poverty, hard work, and disappointments.

　　Hard luck and misfortune had followed Horace all his life. He was born of poor parents on February 3, 1811, on a small farm in New Hampshire. During his early childhood, the Greeley family rarely had enough to eat. They moved from one farm to another because they could not pay their debts. Young Horace’s only boyhood fun was reading—when he could snatch a few moments during a long working day.

　　The printed word always fascinated Horace. When he was only ten years old, he applied for a job as an apprentice in a printing shop. But he didn’t get the job because he was too young.

　　Four years later, Horace walked eleven miles to East Poultney in Vermont to answer an ad. A paper called?the Northern Spectator?had a job for a boy. The editor asked him why he wanted to boa printer, Horace spoke up boldly: “Because, sir, I want to learn all I can about newspapers.”

　　The editor looked at the oddly dressed boy. Finally he said, “You’ve got the job, son.”

　　For the first six months, room and board would be the only pay for his work. After that, he would get room and board and forty dollars a year.

　　Horace hurried home to shout the good news to his family. When he got there, he learned that his family was about to move again—

“How many copies do you want printed, Mr. Greeley?”

　　“Five thousand!” The answer was snapped back without hesitation.

　　“But, sir,” the press foreman protested, “we have subscriptions for only five hundred newspapers.”

　　“We’ll sell them or give them away.”

　　The presses started rolling, sending a thundering noise out over the sleeping streets of New York City.?The New York Tribune?was born.

　　The newspaper’s founder, owner, and editor, Horace Greeley, anxiously snatched the first copy as it came sliding off the press. This was his dream of many years that he held in his hand. It was as precious as a child. Its birth was the result of years of poverty, hard work, and disappointments.

　　Hard luck and misfortune had followed Horace all his life. He was born of poor parents on February 3, 1811, on a small farm in New Hampshire. During his early childhood, the Greeley family rarely had enough to eat. They moved from one farm to another because they could not pay their debts. Young Horace’s only boyhood fun was reading—when he could snatch a few moments during a long working day.

　　The printed word always fascinated Horace. When he was only ten years old, he applied for a job as an apprentice in a printing shop. But he didn’t get the job because he was too young.

　　Four years later, Horace walked eleven miles to East Poultney in Vermont to answer an ad. A paper called?the Northern Spectator?had a job for a boy. The editor asked him why he wanted to boa printer, Horace spoke up boldly: “Because, sir, I want to learn all I can about newspapers.”

　　The editor looked at the oddly dressed boy. Finally he said, “You’ve got the job, son.”

　　For the first six months, room and board would be the only pay for his work. After that, he would get room and board and forty dollars a year.

　　Horace hurried home to shout the good news to his family. When he got there, he learned that his family was about to move again—

“How many copies do you want printed, Mr. Greeley?”

　　“Five thousand!” The answer was snapped back without hesitation.

　　“But, sir,” the press foreman protested, “we have subscriptions for only five hundred newspapers.”

　　“We’ll sell them or give them away.”

　　The presses started rolling, sending a thundering noise out over the sleeping streets of New York City.?The New York Tribune?was born.

　　The newspaper’s founder, owner, and editor, Horace Greeley, anxiously snatched the first copy as it came sliding off the press. This was his dream of many years that he held in his hand. It was as precious as a child. Its birth was the result of years of poverty, hard work, and disappointments.

　　Hard luck and misfortune had followed Horace all his life. He was born of poor parents on February 3, 1811, on a small farm in New Hampshire. During his early childhood, the Greeley family rarely had enough to eat. They moved from one farm to another because they could not pay their debts. Young Horace’s only boyhood fun was reading—when he could snatch a few moments during a long working day.

　　The printed word always fascinated Horace. When he was only ten years old, he applied for a job as an apprentice in a printing shop. But he didn’t get the job because he was too young.

　　Four years later, Horace walked eleven miles to East Poultney in Vermont to answer an ad. A paper called?the Northern Spectator?had a job for a boy. The editor asked him why he wanted to boa printer, Horace spoke up boldly: “Because, sir, I want to learn all I can about newspapers.”

　　The editor looked at the oddly dressed boy. Finally he said, “You’ve got the job, son.”

　　For the first six months, room and board would be the only pay for his work. After that, he would get room and board and forty dollars a year.

　　Horace hurried home to shout the good news to his family. When he got there, he learned that his family was about to move again—

The Cooperative Principles were put forward by( ).

Big Ben is in

The American president involved in Watergate Scandal was( )

Phatic communication refers to( ).

The main theme of Emily Dickinson′s poems isthe following except( )

Uncle Tom′s Cabin was written by ( )

In Australia， the Constitution can be changed only by ( )

The last half of the nineteenth century( )the steady improvement in the means of travel.

Semantic triangle is made up of reference， symbol and ( )

Which of the following is NOT a representative of Modernism？

Emily Dickinson was regarded mainly as a( n) ( )

Theme and Rheme are terms in ( )of syntax.

With regard to its size， the U.S.A.is the( )country in the world.

Semantics is the study of( ).

The Declaration of Independence was drafted by( ).

Ten amendments introduced by James Madison in 1789 were added to the Constitution， which are known as( )

Which item does not fall under the same category as the rest？( )

Which of the following writers is a novelist of the 20th century？

Print books may be under siege from the rise of e-books, but they have a tenacious hold on a particular group: children and toddlers. Their parents are insisting this next generation of readers spend their early years with old-fashioned books. This is the case even with parents who themselves are die-hard downloaders of books onto Kindles, iPads, laptops and phones. They freely acknowledge their digital double standard, saying they want their children to be surrounded by print books, to experience turning physical pages as they learn about shapes, colors and animals. Parents also say they like cuddling up with their child and a book, and fear that a shiny gadget might get all the attention. Also, if little Joey is going to spit up, a book may be easier to clean than a tablet computer.

　　As the adult book world turns digital at a faster rate than publishers expected, sales of e-books for titles aimed at children under 8 have barely budged. They represent less than 5 percent of total annual sales of children’s books, several publishers estimated, compared with more than 25 percent in some categories of adult books.

　　Many print books are bought as gifts, since the delights of an Amazon gift card are lost on most 6-year-olds. Children’s books are also a bright spot for brick-and-mortar bookstores, since parents often want to flip through an entire book before buying it, something they usually cannot do with e-book browsing. A study commissioned by HarperCollins in 2010 found that books bought for 3- to 7-year-olds were frequently discovered at a local bookstore—38percent of the time.

　　And here is a question for a digital era debate: is anything lost by taking a picture book and converting it to an e-book? Junko Yokota, a professor and director of the Center for Teaching Through Children’s Books at National Louis University in Chicago, thinks the answer is yes, because the shape and size of the book are often part of the reading experience. Wider p

Print books may be under siege from the rise of e-books, but they have a tenacious hold on a particular group: children and toddlers. Their parents are insisting this next generation of readers spend their early years with old-fashioned books. This is the case even with parents who themselves are die-hard downloaders of books onto Kindles, iPads, laptops and phones. They freely acknowledge their digital double standard, saying they want their children to be surrounded by print books, to experience turning physical pages as they learn about shapes, colors and animals. Parents also say they like cuddling up with their child and a book, and fear that a shiny gadget might get all the attention. Also, if little Joey is going to spit up, a book may be easier to clean than a tablet computer.

　　As the adult book world turns digital at a faster rate than publishers expected, sales of e-books for titles aimed at children under 8 have barely budged. They represent less than 5 percent of total annual sales of children’s books, several publishers estimated, compared with more than 25 percent in some categories of adult books.

　　Many print books are bought as gifts, since the delights of an Amazon gift card are lost on most 6-year-olds. Children’s books are also a bright spot for brick-and-mortar bookstores, since parents often want to flip through an entire book before buying it, something they usually cannot do with e-book browsing. A study commissioned by HarperCollins in 2010 found that books bought for 3- to 7-year-olds were frequently discovered at a local bookstore—38percent of the time.

　　And here is a question for a digital era debate: is anything lost by taking a picture book and converting it to an e-book? Junko Yokota, a professor and director of the Center for Teaching Through Children’s Books at National Louis University in Chicago, thinks the answer is yes, because the shape and size of the book are often part of the reading experience. Wider p

Print books may be under siege from the rise of e-books, but they have a tenacious hold on a particular group: children and toddlers. Their parents are insisting this next generation of readers spend their early years with old-fashioned books. This is the case even with parents who themselves are die-hard downloaders of books onto Kindles, iPads, laptops and phones. They freely acknowledge their digital double standard, saying they want their children to be surrounded by print books, to experience turning physical pages as they learn about shapes, colors and animals. Parents also say they like cuddling up with their child and a book, and fear that a shiny gadget might get all the attention. Also, if little Joey is going to spit up, a book may be easier to clean than a tablet computer.

　　As the adult book world turns digital at a faster rate than publishers expected, sales of e-books for titles aimed at children under 8 have barely budged. They represent less than 5 percent of total annual sales of children’s books, several publishers estimated, compared with more than 25 percent in some categories of adult books.

　　Many print books are bought as gifts, since the delights of an Amazon gift card are lost on most 6-year-olds. Children’s books are also a bright spot for brick-and-mortar bookstores, since parents often want to flip through an entire book before buying it, something they usually cannot do with e-book browsing. A study commissioned by HarperCollins in 2010 found that books bought for 3- to 7-year-olds were frequently discovered at a local bookstore—38percent of the time.

　　And here is a question for a digital era debate: is anything lost by taking a picture book and converting it to an e-book? Junko Yokota, a professor and director of the Center for Teaching Through Children’s Books at National Louis University in Chicago, thinks the answer is yes, because the shape and size of the book are often part of the reading experience. Wider p

Print books may be under siege from the rise of e-books, but they have a tenacious hold on a particular group: children and toddlers. Their parents are insisting this next generation of readers spend their early years with old-fashioned books. This is the case even with parents who themselves are die-hard downloaders of books onto Kindles, iPads, laptops and phones. They freely acknowledge their digital double standard, saying they want their children to be surrounded by print books, to experience turning physical pages as they learn about shapes, colors and animals. Parents also say they like cuddling up with their child and a book, and fear that a shiny gadget might get all the attention. Also, if little Joey is going to spit up, a book may be easier to clean than a tablet computer.

　　As the adult book world turns digital at a faster rate than publishers expected, sales of e-books for titles aimed at children under 8 have barely budged. They represent less than 5 percent of total annual sales of children’s books, several publishers estimated, compared with more than 25 percent in some categories of adult books.

　　Many print books are bought as gifts, since the delights of an Amazon gift card are lost on most 6-year-olds. Children’s books are also a bright spot for brick-and-mortar bookstores, since parents often want to flip through an entire book before buying it, something they usually cannot do with e-book browsing. A study commissioned by HarperCollins in 2010 found that books bought for 3- to 7-year-olds were frequently discovered at a local bookstore—38percent of the time.

　　And here is a question for a digital era debate: is anything lost by taking a picture book and converting it to an e-book? Junko Yokota, a professor and director of the Center for Teaching Through Children’s Books at National Louis University in Chicago, thinks the answer is yes, because the shape and size of the book are often part of the reading experience. Wider p

Print books may be under siege from the rise of e-books, but they have a tenacious hold on a particular group: children and toddlers. Their parents are insisting this next generation of readers spend their early years with old-fashioned books. This is the case even with parents who themselves are die-hard downloaders of books onto Kindles, iPads, laptops and phones. They freely acknowledge their digital double standard, saying they want their children to be surrounded by print books, to experience turning physical pages as they learn about shapes, colors and animals. Parents also say they like cuddling up with their child and a book, and fear that a shiny gadget might get all the attention. Also, if little Joey is going to spit up, a book may be easier to clean than a tablet computer.

　　As the adult book world turns digital at a faster rate than publishers expected, sales of e-books for titles aimed at children under 8 have barely budged. They represent less than 5 percent of total annual sales of children’s books, several publishers estimated, compared with more than 25 percent in some categories of adult books.

　　Many print books are bought as gifts, since the delights of an Amazon gift card are lost on most 6-year-olds. Children’s books are also a bright spot for brick-and-mortar bookstores, since parents often want to flip through an entire book before buying it, something they usually cannot do with e-book browsing. A study commissioned by HarperCollins in 2010 found that books bought for 3- to 7-year-olds were frequently discovered at a local bookstore—38percent of the time.

　　And here is a question for a digital era debate: is anything lost by taking a picture book and converting it to an e-book? Junko Yokota, a professor and director of the Center for Teaching Through Children’s Books at National Louis University in Chicago, thinks the answer is yes, because the shape and size of the book are often part of the reading experience. Wider p