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food， whether stewed， roasted， baked， or boiled； and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout.
I do therefore humbly offer it to public consideration that of the hundred and twenty thousand children， already computed， twenty thousand may be reserved for breed， whereof only one fourth part to be males， which is more than we allow to sheep， black cattle， or swine； and my reason is that these children are seldom the fruits of marriage， a circumstance not much regarded by our savages， therefore one male will be sufficient to serve four females. That the remaining hundred thousand may at a year old be offered in sale to the person of quality and fortune through the kingdom， always advising the mother to let them suck plentifully in the last month， so as to render them plump and fat for a good table. A child will make two dishes at an entertainment for friends， and when the family dines alone， the fore or hind quarter will make a reasonable dish； and seasoned with a little pepper or salt will be very good boiled on the fourth day， especially in winter. （Jonathan Swift， A Modest Proposal） Questions：
1. What is the author’s modest proposal in the passage？ And what do you think is his real idea behind it？
2. What kind of tone is shown in the passage？（Explain it with specific quotations from the text）
Part V. Critical Reading （25%）
Read the attached short story and answer the questions in essay form.
1. What’s the turning point in the murder trial？ Describe it in a few sentences.
2.Read carefully the last two paragraphs of the story and comment， in the form of a 150-200-word essay， on the message or real meaning of the author. The Case for the Defense Graham Greene
1 It was the strangest murder trial that I ever attended. They named it the Peckham murder in the headlines， though Northwood Street， where the old woman was found battered to death， was not strictly speaking in Peckham. This was not one of those cases of circumstantial evidence in which you feel the juryman’s anxiety—because mistakes have
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been made—like domes of silence muting the court. No， this murderer was all but found with the body； no one present when the Crown counsel outlined his case believed that the man in the dock stood any chance at all.
2 He was a heavy stout man with bulging bloodshot eyes. All his muscles seemed to be in his thighs. Yes， an ugly customer， one you wouldn’t forget in a hurry—and that was an important point because the Crown proposed to call four witnesses who hadn’t forgotten him， who had seen him hurrying away from the little red villa in Northwood Street. The clock had just struck two in the morning.
3 Mrs. Salmon in 15 Northwood Street had been unable to sleep； she heard a door click shut and thought it was her own gate. So she went to the window and saw Adams （that was his name） on the steps of Mrs. Parker’s house. He had just come out and he was wearing gloves. He had a hammer in his hand and she saw him drop it into the laurel bushes at the front gate. But before he moved away， he had looked up—at her window. The fatal instinct that tells a man when he is watched exposed him in the light of a street-lamp to her gaze—his eyes suffused with horrifying and brutal fear， like an animal’s when you raise a whip. I talked afterwards to Mrs. Salmon， who naturally after the astonishing verdict went in fear herself. As I imagined did all the witnesses—Henry MacDougall， who had been driving home from Benfleet late and nearly ran Adams down at the corner of Northwood Street. Adams was walking in the middle of the road looking dazed. And old Mr. Wheeler， who lived next door to Mrs. Parker， at No. 12 and was waken by a noise—like a chair falling—through the thin-as-paper villa wall， and got up and looked out of the window， just as Mrs. Salmon had done， saw Adam’s back and， as he turned， those bulging eyes. In Laurel Avenue he had been seen by yet another witness—his luck was badly out； he might as well have committed the crime in broad daylight.
4 “I understand，” the counsel said， “that the defense proposes to plead mistaken identity. Adams’ wife will tell you that he was with her at two in the morning on February 14， but after you have heard the witnesses for the Crown and examined carefully the features of the prisoner， I do not think you will be prepared to admit the possibility of a mistake.” 5 It was all over， you would have said， but the hanging.
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6 After the formal evidence had been given by the policeman who had found the body and the surgeon who examined it， Mrs. Salmon was called. She was the ideal witness， with her slight Scotch accent and her expression of honesty， care and kindness.
7 The counsel for the Crown brought the story gently out. She spoke very firmly. There was no malice in her， and no sense of importance at standing there in the Central Criminal Court with a judge in scarlet handing on her words and the reporters writing them down. Yes， she said， and then she had gone down stairs and rung up the police station. 8 “And do you see the man here in court？”
She looked straight and at the big man in the dock， who stared at her with his Pekingese eyes without emotion.
“Yes，” she said， “there he is.” “You are quite certain？”
She said simply， “I couldn’t be mistaken， sir.” It was as easy as that. “Thank you， Mrs. Salmon.”
9 Counsel for the defense rose to cross-examine. If you had reported as many murder trials as I have， you would have known beforehand what line he would take. And I was right， up to a point.
10 “Now， Mrs. Salmon， you must have remembered that a man’s life may depend on your evidence.”
“I do remember it， sir.” “Is your eyesight good？”
“I have never had to wear spectacles， sir.” “You are a woman of fifty-five？” “Fifty-six， sir.”
“And the man you saw was on the other side of the road？” “Yes， sir.”
“And it was two o’clock in the morning. You must have remarkable eyes， Mrs. Salmon？” “No， sir. There was moonlight， and the man looked up， he had the lamplight on his face.”
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11 I couldn’t make out what he was at. He couldn’t have expected any other answer than the one he got.
12 “None whatever， sir. It isn’t a face one forgets.”
13 Counsel took a look around the court for a moment. Then he said， “Do you mind， Mrs. Salmon， examining again the people in court？ No， not the prisoner. Stand up， please， Mr. Adams，” and there at the back of the court with thick stout body and muscular legs and a pair of bulging eyes， was the exact image of the man in the dock. He was even dressed the same—tight blue suit and striped tie.
14 “Now think very carefully， Mrs. Salmon. Can you still swear that the man you saw drop the hammer in Mrs. Parker’s garden was the prisoner—and not this man， who is his twin brother？”
15 Of course she couldn’t. She looked from one to the other and didn’t say a word. 16 There the big brute sat in the dock with his legs crossed， and there he stood too at the back of the court and they both stared at Mrs. Salmon. She shook her head.
17 What we saw then was the end of the case. There wasn’t a witness prepared to swear that it was the prisoner he’d seen. And the brother？ He had his own alibi too； he was with his wife.
18 And so the man was acquitted for lack of evidence. But whether if he did the murder and not his brother—he was punished or not， I don’t know. That extraordinary day had an extraordinary end. I followed Mrs. Salmon out of court and we got wedged in the crowd who were waiting， of course， for the twins. The police tried to drive the crowd away， but all they could do was keep the roadway clear for traffic. I learned later that they tried to get the twins to leave by a back way， but they wouldn’t. One of them—no one knew which—said， “I’ve been acquitted， haven’t I？” and they walked bang out of the front entrance. Then it happened. I don’t know how， though I was only six feet away. The crowd moved and somehow one of the twins got pushed on to the road right in front of a bus.
19 He gave a squeal like a rabbit and that was all； he was dead， his skull smashed just as Mrs. Parker’s had been. Divine vengeance？ I wish I knew. There was the other Adams getting on his feet from beside the body and looking straight over at Mrs. Salmon. He was
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crying， but whether he was the murderer or the innocent man nobody will ever be able to tell. But if you were Mrs. Salmon， could you sleep at night？
英国文学期末考试试题广外
