Questões de Inglês

SHADOW TRAIN

An Arizona Ghost Story retold by

S. E. Schlosser

 

[1] A young miner was on his way to Dos Cabezas, where he heard there was a good chance of finding gold, when

he found himself lost and alone in the plains just north of the Dragoon Mountains. In the hot sun of midday, his burro

died because of the heat and the miner knew that he would shortly follow if he did not find a place to hide from the

sun and something to drink.

[5] The landscape oscillated before his eyes, and he tried to keep on walking, determined not to drop. But the heat

of the desert invaded his body and he started to perambulate. Then he collapsed.

He was awakened by a constant chug-chug sound. He raised his head from the hard and dry ground and

looked around him. It sounded like a train was approaching. But that was impossible. There were no tracks in this

inhospitable location, and no town for miles. Clackity-clack. Clackity-clack. The sound came again, louder this time.

[10] Chug-chug- chug. Then he heard the sound of an engine. He was hallucinating, he decided.

The miner put his head on his arms and waited for death to come. As he was there, feeling extremely hot, he

seemed to hear the words of the old miner who had told him about the good mining sites in the north. The

grey-haired man had spoken of a shadow train that had appeared out of nowhere and ran just above the plains

where no railroad tracks had ever been placed. The shadow train had passed across the desert before his very

[15] eyes. It had disappeared into the distance while the old man watched, turning into a mirage and then vanishing into

the strong light of the sun.

At the time, the young miner thought the old man was a bit of a nut. It was an illusion caused by the heat, he

presumed. But with the constant chug-chug-chug becoming louder in his ears, he was not so sure. He raised his

head again, and saw something, approaching rapidly. He heard the sharp whistle of a train, once, twice. After a

[20] while, he could make out the shape of a black steam engine pulling two cars.

The whistle sounded sharply again as the train advanced toward him. The young miner wanted to jump out of

its path, but he could not lift himself. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact, but the train slowed down and

stopped just a few feet from his head. A jolly-faced conductor stepped out of the train and came over to him. The

conductor bent down and lifted him from the ground. Someone else whom he couldn't see caught his feet, and he

[25] was carried inside a passenger car. Kind faces surrounded him. "Water," he murmured, __________ before losing

consciousness.

He was wakened by the feeling of cold water onto his face. He opened his eyes and saw a tall man wearing a

sheriff's badge carefully pouring water from a pitcher over him. The man held a cup to his lips, careful not to give

him too much water at once. The miner had difficulty to drink it. After having some of it, when he was finally able to

[30] speak, he asked the sheriff what had happened.

"A farmer found you nearly dead about five miles out of town," the sheriff answered laconically.

"What town?" he asked cautiously.

The sheriff looked at him strangely. "That sun sure must have messed with your head, son, if you can't even

remember where you were going to," said the sheriff. "You're in Wilcox, Arizona."

[35] "It's a stop on the train, then?" he asked hesitantly.

"Train? There ain't no train around for miles," said the sheriff. "You'd better have some more water and rest a

bit. That sun's nearly sent you loco!"

The young miner laid back down thankfully and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure why the shadow train had

come to his rescue, but he was sure glad it had stopped for him.

[40] Years later, the Southern Pacific Railroad put a track right through Wilcox, Arizona, and real trains started

rolling through Arizona. But some say the shadow train still races through the plains at midday, where no track was

ever laid.

(Disponível em: . Acesso em 11 abr. 2011. – Texto adaptado.)

 

Analise as proposições abaixo quanto à veracidade (V) ou à falsidade (F), de acordo com o texto.

 

( ) Depois de socorrido, o jovem mineiro relatou a história do trem fantasma.

( ) O jovem foi colocado no vagão restaurante, onde havia outras pessoas.

( ) Na época em que o evento narrado ocorreu, Wilcox não tinha estação de trem.

 

Assinale a alternativa que preenche corretamente os parênteses, de cima para baixo.

SHADOW TRAIN

An Arizona Ghost Story retold by

S. E. Schlosser

 

[1] A young miner was on his way to Dos Cabezas, where he heard there was a good chance of finding gold, when

he found himself lost and alone in the plains just north of the Dragoon Mountains. In the hot sun of midday, his burro

died because of the heat and the miner knew that he would shortly follow if he did not find a place to hide from the

sun and something to drink.

[5] The landscape oscillated before his eyes, and he tried to keep on walking, determined not to drop. But the heat

of the desert invaded his body and he started to perambulate. Then he collapsed.

He was awakened by a constant chug-chug sound. He raised his head from the hard and dry ground and

looked around him. It sounded like a train was approaching. But that was impossible. There were no tracks in this

inhospitable location, and no town for miles. Clackity-clack. Clackity-clack. The sound came again, louder this time.

[10] Chug-chug- chug. Then he heard the sound of an engine. He was hallucinating, he decided.

The miner put his head on his arms and waited for death to come. As he was there, feeling extremely hot, he

seemed to hear the words of the old miner who had told him about the good mining sites in the north. The

grey-haired man had spoken of a shadow train that had appeared out of nowhere and ran just above the plains

where no railroad tracks had ever been placed. The shadow train had passed across the desert before his very

[15] eyes. It had disappeared into the distance while the old man watched, turning into a mirage and then vanishing into

the strong light of the sun.

At the time, the young miner thought the old man was a bit of a nut. It was an illusion caused by the heat, he

presumed. But with the constant chug-chug-chug becoming louder in his ears, he was not so sure. He raised his

head again, and saw something, approaching rapidly. He heard the sharp whistle of a train, once, twice. After a

[20] while, he could make out the shape of a black steam engine pulling two cars.

The whistle sounded sharply again as the train advanced toward him. The young miner wanted to jump out of

its path, but he could not lift himself. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact, but the train slowed down and

stopped just a few feet from his head. A jolly-faced conductor stepped out of the train and came over to him. The

conductor bent down and lifted him from the ground. Someone else whom he couldn't see caught his feet, and he

[25] was carried inside a passenger car. Kind faces surrounded him. "Water," he murmured, __________ before losing

consciousness.

He was wakened by the feeling of cold water onto his face. He opened his eyes and saw a tall man wearing a

sheriff's badge carefully pouring water from a pitcher over him. The man held a cup to his lips, careful not to give

him too much water at once. The miner had difficulty to drink it. After having some of it, when he was finally able to

[30] speak, he asked the sheriff what had happened.

"A farmer found you nearly dead about five miles out of town," the sheriff answered laconically.

"What town?" he asked cautiously.

The sheriff looked at him strangely. "That sun sure must have messed with your head, son, if you can't even

remember where you were going to," said the sheriff. "You're in Wilcox, Arizona."

[35] "It's a stop on the train, then?" he asked hesitantly.

"Train? There ain't no train around for miles," said the sheriff. "You'd better have some more water and rest a

bit. That sun's nearly sent you loco!"

The young miner laid back down thankfully and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure why the shadow train had

come to his rescue, but he was sure glad it had stopped for him.

[40] Years later, the Southern Pacific Railroad put a track right through Wilcox, Arizona, and real trains started

rolling through Arizona. But some say the shadow train still races through the plains at midday, where no track was

ever laid.

(Disponível em: <http://americanfolklore.net/folklore/2010/07/the_shadow_train.html>. Acesso em 11 abr. 2011. – Texto adaptado.)

Relacione os personagens, listados na Coluna A, aos fatos relacionados a eles, elencados na Coluna B.

 

COLUNA A

1- O velho mineiro

2- O xerife

3- O condutor do trem

4- Um fazendeiro

 

COLUNA B

( ) deu água ao jovem mineiro.

( ) tinha cabelos grisalhos.

( ) encontrou o jovem mineiro quase morto.

( ) tinha uma expressão jovial.

Assinale a alternativa que preenche corretamente os parênteses, de cima para baixo.

SHADOW TRAIN

An Arizona Ghost Story retold by

S. E. Schlosser

 

[1] A young miner was on his way to Dos Cabezas, where he heard there was a good chance of finding gold, when

he found himself lost and alone in the plains just north of the Dragoon Mountains. In the hot sun of midday, his burro

died because of the heat and the miner knew that he would shortly follow if he did not find a place to hide from the

sun and something to drink.

[5] The landscape oscillated before his eyes, and he tried to keep on walking, determined not to drop. But the heat

of the desert invaded his body and he started to perambulate. Then he collapsed.

He was awakened by a constant chug-chug sound. He raised his head from the hard and dry ground and

looked around him. It sounded like a train was approaching. But that was impossible. There were no tracks in this

inhospitable location, and no town for miles. Clackity-clack. Clackity-clack. The sound came again, louder this time.

[10] Chug-chug- chug. Then he heard the sound of an engine. He was hallucinating, he decided.

The miner put his head on his arms and waited for death to come. As he was there, feeling extremely hot, he

seemed to hear the words of the old miner who had told him about the good mining sites in the north. The

grey-haired man had spoken of a shadow train that had appeared out of nowhere and ran just above the plains

where no railroad tracks had ever been placed. The shadow train had passed across the desert before his very

[15] eyes. It had disappeared into the distance while the old man watched, turning into a mirage and then vanishing into

the strong light of the sun.

At the time, the young miner thought the old man was a bit of a nut. It was an illusion caused by the heat, he

presumed. But with the constant chug-chug-chug becoming louder in his ears, he was not so sure. He raised his

head again, and saw something, approaching rapidly. He heard the sharp whistle of a train, once, twice. After a

[20] while, he could make out the shape of a black steam engine pulling two cars.

The whistle sounded sharply again as the train advanced toward him. The young miner wanted to jump out of

its path, but he could not lift himself. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact, but the train slowed down and

stopped just a few feet from his head. A jolly-faced conductor stepped out of the train and came over to him. The

conductor bent down and lifted him from the ground. Someone else whom he couldn't see caught his feet, and he

[25] was carried inside a passenger car. Kind faces surrounded him. "Water," he murmured, __________ before losing

consciousness.

He was wakened by the feeling of cold water onto his face. He opened his eyes and saw a tall man wearing a

sheriff's badge carefully pouring water from a pitcher over him. The man held a cup to his lips, careful not to give

him too much water at once. The miner had difficulty to drink it. After having some of it, when he was finally able to

[30] speak, he asked the sheriff what had happened.

"A farmer found you nearly dead about five miles out of town," the sheriff answered laconically.

"What town?" he asked cautiously.

The sheriff looked at him strangely. "That sun sure must have messed with your head, son, if you can't even

remember where you were going to," said the sheriff. "You're in Wilcox, Arizona."

[35] "It's a stop on the train, then?" he asked hesitantly.

"Train? There ain't no train around for miles," said the sheriff. "You'd better have some more water and rest a

bit. That sun's nearly sent you loco!"

The young miner laid back down thankfully and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure why the shadow train had

come to his rescue, but he was sure glad it had stopped for him.

[40] Years later, the Southern Pacific Railroad put a track right through Wilcox, Arizona, and real trains started

rolling through Arizona. But some say the shadow train still races through the plains at midday, where no track was

ever laid.

(Disponível em: <http://americanfolklore.net/folklore/2010/07/the_shadow_train.html>. Acesso em 11 abr. 2011. – Texto adaptado.)

Analise as proposições abaixo quanto à veracidade (V) ou à falsidade (F), de acordo com o texto. O jovem mineiro


( ) não conseguiu engolir a água que lhe ofereceram.
( ) pensou estar tendo alucinações, ao ser despertado pelo barulho de um trem.
( ) desmaiou logo após ter encontrado um lugar para se abrigar.
 
Assinale a alternativa que preenche corretamente os parênteses, de cima para baixo. 

Special delivery

 

[1] The other day in our mailbox there was a letter from Auntie Anne. She is nearing 80 and does not know how

important Facebook has become. She is not interested in Twittering and does not see the use of Internet. She is

addicted to pen and paper.

Every other week for the past 30 years I have sat down and written a letter to her. I started writing to her when

[5] I was 10 and she was living at Lake Ranch in the interior of British Columbia. Her letters were full of what Uncle Willi

was doing. He was a cowboy and he rode quarter horses every day, moving cattle and watching out for rattle-snakes.

Her correspondence was like a novel whose main characters were my family, and I still have every letter. My

letters were full of school in Victoria and family and ballet. I learned to pack mine with whatever I thought was

important. She would write back with questions and slowly I learned how to tell a story. I also learned about the

[10] paraphernalia of letter writing, keeping my address book current, having a ready supply of paper, envelopes and

stamps.

I caught the letter-writing bug myself. While still home in Victoria and studying at university, I wrote to friends

who were studying and living in France and China. We shared our hopes and travels, and chronicled our love lives. I

have boxes filled with their letters.

[15] Once graduated from university, I packed my backpack and traveled around the world. My letters reached

Auntie Anne from Asia and Europe. Places she had never seen, but was keen to hear all about. When I was

homesick, letters from my family would find me everywhere and I would feel like the world was smaller. Someone out

there cared.

Nowadays most wired people muse that snail mail is not all that relevant any more. Nobody uses the mail

[20] these days, they say. When was the last time someone actually wrote a letter? But what about postcards when you

travel? What about the small businesses who rely on cheques in the mail? What about all those charities needing

funds to carry on? What about all those things you order online? Who makes them come right to your door?

Now that the kids are out of school it seems the perfect time to get them to write to Auntie Anne. I coach them

on the rules of writing to her. She does not like fancy paper any more. She thinks it is better to recycle a flyer from the

[25] mailbox or the back of the newsletter from my daughter´s preschool. We need to always use the formal salutation

“dear” and formal closing “love”, because being dear to someone and telling them we love them is what we all want to

get in the mail.

Auntie Anne always includes a note for each child with questions of their own to answer in a letter back to her.

They usually carry her notes around and use them for bookmarkers for days afterward or dance around holding the

[30] letter in their hands.

I keep an addressed envelope on the kitchen counter ready in case I see a clipping from the newspaper I know

Auntie Anne will be interested in, or a nice bit of artwork from the children or perhaps even a note written by them.

As I mail my parcel to Auntie Anne, perhaps in the next week or so we will receive another letter from her.

Because if we want a letter, we must first write one.

[35]

(KOVACH, P. R. Special delivery. The globe and the mail, Canada, July 12, 2011. – Texto adaptado.)

Com base no texto, pode-se afirmar que a autora, por meio de perguntas, argumenta que as pessoas ainda usam o correio para
 
I. enviar cartões postais, quando viajam.
II. fazer a cobrança de encomendas feitas pela Internet.
III. mandar cheques de doações para entidades.

Das alternativas acima,

Special delivery

 

[1] The other day in our mailbox there was a letter from Auntie Anne. She is nearing 80 and does not know how

important Facebook has become. She is not interested in Twittering and does not see the use of Internet. She is

addicted to pen and paper.

Every other week for the past 30 years I have sat down and written a letter to her. I started writing to her when

[5] I was 10 and she was living at Lake Ranch in the interior of British Columbia. Her letters were full of what Uncle Willi

was doing. He was a cowboy and he rode quarter horses every day, moving cattle and watching out for rattle-snakes.

Her correspondence was like a novel whose main characters were my family, and I still have every letter. My

letters were full of school in Victoria and family and ballet. I learned to pack mine with whatever I thought was

important. She would write back with questions and slowly I learned how to tell a story. I also learned about the

[10] paraphernalia of letter writing, keeping my address book current, having a ready supply of paper, envelopes and

stamps.

I caught the letter-writing bug myself. While still home in Victoria and studying at university, I wrote to friends

who were studying and living in France and China. We shared our hopes and travels, and chronicled our love lives. I

have boxes filled with their letters.

[15] Once graduated from university, I packed my backpack and traveled around the world. My letters reached

Auntie Anne from Asia and Europe. Places she had never seen, but was keen to hear all about. When I was

homesick, letters from my family would find me everywhere and I would feel like the world was smaller. Someone out

there cared.

Nowadays most wired people muse that snail mail is not all that relevant any more. Nobody uses the mail

[20] these days, they say. When was the last time someone actually wrote a letter? But what about postcards when you

travel? What about the small businesses who rely on cheques in the mail? What about all those charities needing

funds to carry on? What about all those things you order online? Who makes them come right to your door?

Now that the kids are out of school it seems the perfect time to get them to write to Auntie Anne. I coach them

on the rules of writing to her. She does not like fancy paper any more. She thinks it is better to recycle a flyer from the

[25] mailbox or the back of the newsletter from my daughter´s preschool. We need to always use the formal salutation

“dear” and formal closing “love”, because being dear to someone and telling them we love them is what we all want to

get in the mail.

Auntie Anne always includes a note for each child with questions of their own to answer in a letter back to her.

They usually carry her notes around and use them for bookmarkers for days afterward or dance around holding the

[30] letter in their hands.

I keep an addressed envelope on the kitchen counter ready in case I see a clipping from the newspaper I know

Auntie Anne will be interested in, or a nice bit of artwork from the children or perhaps even a note written by them.

As I mail my parcel to Auntie Anne, perhaps in the next week or so we will receive another letter from her.

Because if we want a letter, we must first write one.

[35]

(KOVACH, P. R. Special delivery. The globe and the mail, Canada, July 12, 2011. – Texto adaptado.)

Analise a veracidade (V) ou a falsidade (F) das proposições abaixo, com base no texto.

( ) A expressão was keen to hear all about (linha 16) equivale a tinha ouvido falar a respeito.
( ) A expressão I was homesick (linhas 16 e 17) refere-se ao estado de saúde da pessoa.
( ) A expressão snail mail (linha 19) faz alusão à lentidão dos serviços dos correios.

Assinale a alternativa que preenche corretamente os parênteses, de cima para baixo.

Special delivery

 

[1] The other day in our mailbox there was a letter from Auntie Anne. She is nearing 80 and does not know how

important Facebook has become. She is not interested in Twittering and does not see the use of Internet. She is

addicted to pen and paper.

Every other week for the past 30 years I have sat down and written a letter to her. I started writing to her when

[5] I was 10 and she was living at Lake Ranch in the interior of British Columbia. Her letters were full of what Uncle Willi

was doing. He was a cowboy and he rode quarter horses every day, moving cattle and watching out for rattle-snakes.

Her correspondence was like a novel whose main characters were my family, and I still have every letter. My

letters were full of school in Victoria and family and ballet. I learned to pack mine with whatever I thought was

important. She would write back with questions and slowly I learned how to tell a story. I also learned about the

[10] paraphernalia of letter writing, keeping my address book current, having a ready supply of paper, envelopes and

stamps.

I caught the letter-writing bug myself. While still home in Victoria and studying at university, I wrote to friends

who were studying and living in France and China. We shared our hopes and travels, and chronicled our love lives. I

have boxes filled with their letters.

[15] Once graduated from university, I packed my backpack and traveled around the world. My letters reached

Auntie Anne from Asia and Europe. Places she had never seen, but was keen to hear all about. When I was

homesick, letters from my family would find me everywhere and I would feel like the world was smaller. Someone out

there cared.

Nowadays most wired people muse that snail mail is not all that relevant any more. Nobody uses the mail

[20] these days, they say. When was the last time someone actually wrote a letter? But what about postcards when you

travel? What about the small businesses who rely on cheques in the mail? What about all those charities needing

funds to carry on? What about all those things you order online? Who makes them come right to your door?

Now that the kids are out of school it seems the perfect time to get them to write to Auntie Anne. I coach them

on the rules of writing to her. She does not like fancy paper any more. She thinks it is better to recycle a flyer from the

[25] mailbox or the back of the newsletter from my daughter´s preschool. We need to always use the formal salutation

“dear” and formal closing “love”, because being dear to someone and telling them we love them is what we all want to

get in the mail.

Auntie Anne always includes a note for each child with questions of their own to answer in a letter back to her.

They usually carry her notes around and use them for bookmarkers for days afterward or dance around holding the

[30] letter in their hands.

I keep an addressed envelope on the kitchen counter ready in case I see a clipping from the newspaper I know

Auntie Anne will be interested in, or a nice bit of artwork from the children or perhaps even a note written by them.

As I mail my parcel to Auntie Anne, perhaps in the next week or so we will receive another letter from her.

Because if we want a letter, we must first write one.

[35]

(KOVACH, P. R. Special delivery. The globe and the mail, Canada, July 12, 2011. – Texto adaptado.)

Analise a veracidade (V) ou a falsidade (F) das proposições abaixo, com base no texto.

( ) A autora escreve para sua tia a cada duas semanas.
( ) A autora vivia em Lake Ranch, quando começou a escrever cartas.
( ) O trabalho na fazenda incluía domesticar cavalos.

Assinale a alternativa que preenche corretamente os parênteses, de cima para baixo.