ACT English Practice Tests 3

ACT English Practice Tests 3

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Not likely to pass
25/02/2024

  • Total Question : 15
  • Answered : 0
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Your Result

  • 1)

    Tellson’s Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, (46)while in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.[A] It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It (47)was an old-fashioned place, moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, proud of its incommodiousness. [B] They were even boastful of its eminence in those particulars, and were (48)fired with an express conviction that, if it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was no passive (49)belief, an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient places of business. Tellson’s (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson’s wanted no light, Tellson’s wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.‘s might or Snooks Brothers’ might; but Tellson’s, thank Heaven—!

    Answer Choices of #46:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : even in the year
  • 2)

    Tellson’s Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, (46)while in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.[A] It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It (47)was an old-fashioned place, moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, proud of its incommodiousness. [B] They were even boastful of its eminence in those particulars, and were (48)fired with an express conviction that, if it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was no passive (49)belief, an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient places of business. Tellson’s (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson’s wanted no light, Tellson’s wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.‘s might or Snooks Brothers’ might; but Tellson’s, thank Heaven—!

    Answer Choices of #47:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : NO CHANGE
  • 3)

    Tellson’s Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, (46)while in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.[A] It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It (47)was an old-fashioned place, moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, proud of its incommodiousness. [B] They were even boastful of its eminence in those particulars, and were (48)fired with an express conviction that, if it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was no passive (49)belief, an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient places of business. Tellson’s (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson’s wanted no light, Tellson’s wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.‘s might or Snooks Brothers’ might; but Tellson’s, thank Heaven—!

    Answer Choices of #48:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : fired by an express
  • 4)

    Tellson’s Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, (46)while in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.[A] It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It (47)was an old-fashioned place, moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, proud of its incommodiousness. [B] They were even boastful of its eminence in those particulars, and were (48)fired with an express conviction that, if it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was no passive (49)belief, an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient places of business. Tellson’s (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson’s wanted no light, Tellson’s wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.‘s might or Snooks Brothers’ might; but Tellson’s, thank Heaven—!

    Answer Choices of #49:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : belief, but an active
  • 5)

    [C] Any one of these partners would have disinherited his son on the question of rebuilding Tellson’s. In this respect, the House was much on a par with the Country; which did very often (50)disinherit its sons for suggesting improvements in laws and customs that had long been highly objectionable, but were only the more respectable.

     

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : NO CHANGE
  • 6)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #51:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : Tellson’s was the perfect example of an inconvenient place for its visitors
  • 7)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #52:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : where the oldest of men
  • 8)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #53:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : shake as if the wind
  • 9)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #54:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : were made the dingier
  • 10)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #55:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : where you mediated
  • 11)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #56:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : NO CHANGE
  • 12)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #57:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : DELETE the underlined portion
  • 13)

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Answer Choices of #58:

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : an insensate brutality
  • 14)

    Tellson’s Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, (46)while in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.[A] It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It (47)was an old-fashioned place, moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, proud of its incommodiousness. [B] They were even boastful of its eminence in those particulars, and were (48)fired with an express conviction that, if it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was no passive (49)belief, an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient places of business. Tellson’s (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson’s wanted no light, Tellson’s wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.‘s might or Snooks Brothers’ might; but Tellson’s, thank Heaven—!

    [C] Any one of these partners would have disinherited his son on the question of rebuilding Tellson’s. In this respect, the House was much on a par with the Country; which did very often (50)disinherit its sons for suggesting improvements in laws and customs that had long been highly objectionable, but were only the more respectable.

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Questions 59 ask about the preceding passage as a whole.

    The writer wants to add the following sentence:

    The new generation somehow desired to improve the conditions at Tellson’s, but they knew that the older generation was not ready to make any change themselves, nor they will allow someone else to do it.

    This sentence would more logically be placed at the point

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : [C] in Paragraph 2
  • 15)

    Tellson’s Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, (46)while in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.[A] It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It (47)was an old-fashioned place, moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, proud of its incommodiousness. [B] They were even boastful of its eminence in those particulars, and were (48)fired with an express conviction that, if it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was no passive (49)belief, an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient places of business. Tellson’s (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson’s wanted no light, Tellson’s wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.‘s might or Snooks Brothers’ might; but Tellson’s, thank Heaven—!

    [C] Any one of these partners would have disinherited his son on the question of rebuilding Tellson’s. In this respect, the House was much on a par with the Country; which did very often (50)disinherit its sons for suggesting improvements in laws and customs that had long been highly objectionable, but were only the more respectable.

    Thus, it had come to pass, that (51) it was a dream of people to visit Tellson’s at least once in their life. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson’s down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, (52)at that place the oldest of men made your cheque (53)shake like if the wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and (54)which was made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing “the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, (55)where you meditated on a misspent life until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. [D] Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and shut. Your bank- notes had a musty odor, (56)as if they were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporized strong-rooms (57)which were being made of kitchens and sculleries and fretted all the fat out of their parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with (58)a insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

    Questions 60 ask about the preceding passage as a whole.

    Which of the following option most effectively concludes the fact that the Tellson’s owners were not bothered about its unpleasant atmosphere?

    Your Answer : Not attemptedCorrect Answer : Tellson’s owners were proud of their bank conditions, and they were of the view that their building condition differentiated their bank from other banks.

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  • ACT English passage :

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    • Total Question : 15
    • Correct Answer : 0