AP English Language and Composition Practice Test 37

Questions 1-13 refer to the following information.

The passage below is from a essay written by a well-known novelist of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

There is a certain evening that I count as virtually a first impression- the end of
a wet, black Sunday, twenty years ago, about the first of March. There had been an
earlier vision, but it had turned gray, like faded ink, and the occasion I speak of was
Linea fresh beginning. No doubt I had a mystic prescience of how fond of the murky
5Babylon I was one day to become; certain it is that as I look back I find every small
circumstance of those hours of approach and arrival still as vivid as if the solemnity
of an opening era had breathed upon it. The sense of approach was already
almost intolerably strong at Liverpool, where, I remember, the perception of the
English character of everything was as acute as a surprise, though it could only be a
10surprise without a shock. It was expectation exquisitely gratified, superabundantly
confirmed. There was a kind of wonder indeed that England should be as English as,
for my entertainment, she took the trouble to be; but the wonder would have been
greater, and all the pleasure absent, if the sensation had not been violent. It seems
to sit there again like a visiting presence, as it sat opposite me at breakfast at a small
15table in a window of the old coffee-room of the Adelphi Hotel-the unextended
(as it then was), the unimproved, the unblushingly local Adelphi. Liverpool is not a
romantic city, but that smoky Saturday returns to me as a supreme success, measured
by its association with the kind of emotion in the hope of which, for the most
part, we betake ourselves to far countries.
20It assumed this character at an early hour-or rather indeed twenty-four hours
before-with the sight, as one looked across the wintry ocean, of the strange, dark,
lonely freshness of the coast of Ireland. Better still, before we could come up to the
city, were the black steamers knocking about in the yellow Mersey, under a sky so
low that they seemed to touch it with their funnels, and in the thickest, windiest
25light. Spring was already in the air, in the town; there was no rain, but there was still
less sun-one wondered what had become, on this side of the world, of the big white
splotch in the heavens; and the gray mildness, shading away into black at every pretext,
appeared in itself a promise. This was how it hung about me, between the window
and the fire, in the coffee-room of the hotel-late in the morning for breakfast,
30as we had been long in disembarking. The other passengers had dispersed, knowingly
catching trains for London (we had only been a handful); I had the place to
myself, and I felt as if I had an exclusive property in the impression. I prolonged it, I
sacrificed to it, and it is perfectly recoverable now, with the very taste of the national
muffin, the creak of the waiter's shoes as he came and went (could anything be so
35English as his intensely professional back? it revealed a country of tradition), and the
rustle of the newspaper I was too excited to read.
I continued to sacrifice for the rest of the day; it didn't seem to me a sentient1
thing, as yet, to inquire into the means of getting away. My curiosity must indeed
have languished, for I found myself on the morrow in the slowest of Sunday trains,
40pottering up to London with an interruptedness which might have been tedious
without the conversation of an old gentleman who shared the carriage with me and
to whom my alien as well as comparatively youthful character had betrayed itself.
He instructed me as to the sights of London, and impressed upon me that nothing
was more worthy of my attention than the great cathedral of St. Paul. "Have you
45seen St. Peter's in Rome? St. Peter's is more highly embellished, you know; but you
may depend upon it that St. Paul's is the better building of the two." The impression
I began with speaking of was, strictly, that of the drive from Euston, after dark, to
Morely's Hotel in Trafalgar Square. It was not lovely-it was in fact rather horrible;
but as I move again through dusky tortuous miles, in the greasy four-wheeler to
50which my luggage had compelled me to commit myself, I recognize the first step in
an initiation of which the subsequent stages were to abound in pleasant things.

1. The speaker in the passage focuses primarily on

2. In lines 4–5, the phrase "murky Babylon" can best be described as

3. In paragraphs 1 and 2 (lines 1–36), the speaker's depiction of the setting emphasizes its

4. In the first paragraph, all of the following contribute to the speaker's anticipation of a "fresh beginning" (line 4) EXCEPT

5. The sentence "It was expectation . . . confirmed" (lines 10–11) functions in all the following ways EXCEPT

6. To the speaker, the "Adelphi Hotel" (line 15) is associated with

7. The "kind of emotion" mentioned in line 18 refers to

8. In line 20, the pronoun "It" refers to

9. The second paragraph (lines 20–36) derives its unity primarily through

10. In context, the phrase "sacrificed to it" (line 33) is best understood to mean that the speaker

11. Which of the following best describes the tone of the parenthetical remark "could anything . . . of tradition" (lines 34–35)?

12. The rhetorical function of the last sentence of the passage (lines 48–51) is to

13. The speaker in the passage can best be described as a person who