The following is an excerpt from an autobiography written in the third person by Henry Adams, a prominent Bostonian.

The chief charm of New England was harshness of contrasts and extremes of sensibility—a cold that froze the blood, and a heat that boiled it—so that the pleasure of hating—one's self if no better victim offered—was not its rarest amusement; but the charm was a true and natural child of the soil, not a cultivated weed of the ancients. The violence of the contrast was real and made the strongest motive of education. The double exterior nature gave life its relative values. Winter and summer, cold and heat, town and country, force and freedom, marked two modes of life and thought, balanced like lobes of the brain. (5)Town was winter confinement, school, rule, discipline; straight, gloomy streets, piled with six feet of snow in the middle; frosts that made the snow sing under wheels or runners; thaws when the streets became dangerous to cross; society of uncles, aunts, and cousins who expected children to behave themselves, and who were not always gratified; above all else, winter represented the desire to escape and go free. Town was restraint, law, unity. Country, only seven miles away, was liberty, diversity, outlawry, the endless delight of mere sense impressions given by nature for nothing, and breathed by boys without knowing it.

Boys are wild animals, rich in the treasures of sense, but the New England boy had a wider range of emotions than boys of more equable climates. He felt his nature crudely, as it was meant. (10)To the boy Henry Adams, summer was drunken. Among senses, smell was the strongest—smell of hot pine-woods and sweet-fern in the scorching summer noon; of new-mown hay; of ploughed earth; of box hedges; of peaches, lilacs, syringas1; of stables, barns, cow-yards; of salt water and low tide on the marshes; nothing came amiss. Next to smell came taste, and the children knew the taste of everything they saw or touched, from pennyroyal and flagroot2 to the shell of a pignut and the letters of a spelling-book—the taste of A-B, AB, suddenly revived on the boy's tongue sixty years afterwards. Light, line, and color as sensual pleasures, came later and were as crude as the rest. The New England light is glare, and the atmosphere harshens color. (15)The boy was a full man before he ever knew what was meant by atmosphere; his idea of pleasure in light was the blaze of a New England sun. His idea of color was a peony, with the dew of early morning on its petals. The intense blue of the sea, as he saw it a mile or two away, from the Quincy hills; the cumuli3 in a June afternoon sky; the strong reds and greens and purples of colored prints and children's picture-books, as the American colors then ran; these were ideals. The opposites or antipathies, were the cold grays of November evenings, and the thick, muddy thaws of Boston winter. With such standards, the Bostonian could not but develop a double nature. (20)Life was a double thing. After a January blizzard, the boy who could look with pleasure into the violent snow-glare of the cold white sunshine, with its intense light and shade, scarcely knew what was meant by tone. He could reach it only by education.

Winter and summer, then, were two hostile lives, and bred two separate natures. Winter was always the effort to live; summer was tropical license.
(1918)

1Syringas are ornamental shrubs.
2Pennyroyal is a mint plant; flagroot is the root of a particular herb.
3Cumuli are thick clouds.

The excerpt is an autobiography, but Henry Adams chose to write it in third person. In a response of approximately 150 words, explain how Adams used this point of view to convey the relationship between nature and childhood discovery. Use evidence from the passage to support your analysis.

Answer:

Adams wrote with a third-person point of view to express a panoramic and ubiquitous view of the effects of nature on his childhood.

Explanation:

Third-person narration allows the reader to have a panoramic view of the events being narrated. This allows the reader to have access to all aspects and elements that compose and influence the characters and the scenarios.

Because of this panoramic capacity, Adams decided to write his autobiography with third-person narration, which is unusual, since autobiographies are usually narrated in the first person. This allowed Adams to explain the transformations and influences of nature in his childhood in a more complete way, not only informing what this relationship caused in himself, but how the environment was shaped and modified simultaneously. We can see this, through the lines:

"To the boy Henry Adams, summer was drunken. Among senses, smell was the strongest—smell of hot pine-woods and sweet-fern in the scorching summer noon; of new-mown hay; of ploughed earth; of box hedges; of peaches, lilacs, syringas1; of stables, barns, cow-yards; of salt water and low tide on the marshes; nothing came amiss. Next to smell came taste, and the children knew the taste of everything they saw or touched, from pennyroyal and flagroot to the shell of a pignut and the letters of a spelling-book—the taste of A-B, AB, suddenly revived on the boy's tongue sixty years afterwards. "

A Baker's Dozen David Matherne 1 I ain't no valedictorian. I'll give you that. But I'm certainly not the loser my step-father Johnnie likes to think I am, either. Mr. oh-so-famous local Johnnie Pipehead of "Johnnie on the Spot Plumbing." (Real clever name, huh?) Just because he only took the requisite twelve years to make it through school and graduate from his alma mater, and I took slightly longer, that doesn't make me a loser. So what if I took "the road less traveled by" and added a one-year, scenic detour to my journey--thanks to Algebra, Physical Science, and well...Latin. Did I mention Chemistry? Let's just say I liked Latin but Latin didn't much care for me. Just because I took thirteen years in all to get out of Melancholy High with a diploma doesn't make me some loser. Being nothing at all, now THAT would make me a loser. 2 I am something. But what I am, and what I'll be, are two countries at war at present. Battles, I've had them. Many battles. Literal ones...figurative ones...too many. Figurative language...see there? At least I did learn a few somethings in Mr. J's English class. 3 I could've been the valedictorian. Of somewhere. Of some school that had a bunch of unmotivated kids like me. Then, maybe I would have gone to those Physical Science study halls. Maybe I would have actually done my homework in Mr. Pugnacious' class. Real name, Pugliese. Wrestling coach. Don't you just love that moniker? For a wrestling coach...Pugnacious. Funny stuff, huh? Made that up. It stuck. Guy's got a bulldog face but a little tail-wagging personality. Had everything but the panting. And the drool. Too much caffeine I suppose. Too happy. Loved his math, that Pugnacious. 4 Yeah, I could've been the valedictorian somewhere. I would've shown everyone how determined I can truly be. As it turned out, I showed 'em anyway. Counselors were shown that I didn't have to graduate with my class, like they so earnestly wished for me to. I showed the teachers who said, "Conrad, your sophomore year will be two of the best years of your life, son." My retorts were always something cleverly snide as well, like: "Yeah, but half the sophomores around here don't even know how to spell s-o-p-h-o-m-o-r-e...they leave out the 'o' on all their cheesy, self-absorbed class election posters, and they certainly don't have a clue that it's a combination of two latinaic roots, 'sopho' and 'more,' meaning 'wise fool.' At least I'm a fool with a bit of wisdom." 5 I could've impressed Mr. Johhnie come-lately, my Mom's most recent convenience among a revolving door of Pops rejects. Yeah, Mr. Johnnie would've loved me being the valedictorian, giving that big speech, the one Angel Ramirez so properly gave tonight...'Members of the School Board, Mr. Wilson, Parents, Faculty and Students, blah, blah, yuck, blah, blah, blah.' I could've given my version instead, only to have Mr. Johnnie Joint-Compound listen, then sending me off to some trade school on a full ride to cut pipe and be his apprentice who wipes his nose and kisses his bu-- and goes on cigarette or burger runs or grabs some rusty tool from the truck. Not gonna fight that part of the war. 6 I was the valedictorian tonight. I do know what I'm going to be. I have graduated from Meloncamp High School about 115th out of class of 126. Thing is, I've seen the fear in the eyes of four score and seven more of those classmates of mine that don't have a rat's chance of knowing what they are going to be. I do. I'm going to be a writer. Mr. J taught me more than English. He taught me what Pops taught me before his passing...love. So here's my Valedictory: "Good evening, everyone. Thanks for coming out to sit on hard, uncomfortable stadium concrete on an unseasonably warm evening and wearing clothes and shoes you can't wait to get home to get out of. Here's what I have. Time is NOT money. Time is convenience. And when one gives up Time, he does pay for it. Yes. But if he trades Time for Opportunity, then he gets credit. So, in conclusion, Time is NOT money, but it CAN be spent. How will you spend yours?! Thank you, good night."

Based on the passage, what can you infer was the speaker's best subject in school?
A) Algebra
B) English
C) Chemistry
D) Physical Science

choose:

So far, this year the students ...... very well

a.have done
b.had done
c.did
d.worked

​

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Question 3
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11 points
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B. “You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you.”
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