Reading Comprehension Test | RC Practice Questions 4

It was in Germany and France that the first successful attempts were made to produce an internal combustion engine driven by petrol. In England, people were strangely timid about horseless vehicles. English inventors were handicapped by a quaint old law that forbade any such vehicle to attain a greater speed than four miles an hour and compelled each one to be preceded by a man carrying a red flag. This law was not repealed until 1896.

The earliest motor cars were looked upon as mere jokes or as rather dangerous playthings, by everyone except their inventors. Some of them were single-seaters, others would carry two or even three people; but all were noisy, clumsy, queer-looking things. When in 1888. Carl Benz, a German-produced a three-wheeled, internal combustion car, a great forward stride had been made. Another German, whose name. Daimler, who is often seen on motor cars to this day, was experimenting at about the same time and testing a petrol-driven engine.

It is easy to understand how the introduction of the petrol-driven engine revolutionized road transport throughout the world. Until then the necessary power to push a vehicle along could not be obtained without the cumbersome tanks, boilers, and furnaces of the steam engine. The internal combustion engine is light in weight and small in size by comparison; the fuel is burned in it, so that there is no waste, like the dusty cinders of a coal fire.

It was in Germany and France that the first successful attempts were made to produce an internal combustion engine driven by petrol. In England, people were strangely timid about horseless vehicles. English inventors were handicapped by a quaint old law that forbade any such vehicle to attain a greater speed than four miles an hour and compelled each one to be preceded by a man carrying a red flag. This law was not repealed until 1896.

The earliest motor cars were looked upon as mere jokes or as rather dangerous playthings, by everyone except their inventors. Some of them were single-seaters, others would carry two or even three people; but all were noisy, clumsy, queer-looking things. When in 1888. Carl Benz, a German-produced a three-wheeled, internal combustion car, a great forward stride had been made. Another German, whose name. Daimler, who is often seen on motor cars to this day, was experimenting at about the same time and testing a petrol-driven engine.

It is easy to understand how the introduction of the petrol-driven engine revolutionized road transport throughout the world. Until then the necessary power to push a vehicle along could not be obtained without the cumbersome tanks, boilers, and furnaces of the steam engine. The internal combustion engine is light in weight and small in size by comparison; the fuel is burned in it, so that there is no waste, like the dusty cinders of a coal fire.

It was in Germany and France that the first successful attempts were made to produce an internal combustion engine driven by petrol. In England, people were strangely timid about horseless vehicles. English inventors were handicapped by a quaint old law that forbade any such vehicle to attain a greater speed than four miles an hour and compelled each one to be preceded by a man carrying a red flag. This law was not repealed until 1896.

The earliest motor cars were looked upon as mere jokes or as rather dangerous playthings, by everyone except their inventors. Some of them were single-seaters, others would carry two or even three people; but all were noisy, clumsy, queer-looking things. When in 1888. Carl Benz, a German-produced a three-wheeled, internal combustion car, a great forward stride had been made. Another German, whose name. Daimler, who is often seen on motor cars to this day, was experimenting at about the same time and testing a petrol-driven engine.

It is easy to understand how the introduction of the petrol-driven engine revolutionized road transport throughout the world. Until then the necessary power to push a vehicle along could not be obtained without the cumbersome tanks, boilers, and furnaces of the steam engine. The internal combustion engine is light in weight and small in size by comparison; the fuel is burned in it, so that there is no waste, like the dusty cinders of a coal fire.

It was in Germany and France that the first successful attempts were made to produce an internal combustion engine driven by petrol. In England, people were strangely timid about horseless vehicles. English inventors were handicapped by a quaint old law that forbade any such vehicle to attain a greater speed than four miles an hour and compelled each one to be preceded by a man carrying a red flag. This law was not repealed until 1896.

The earliest motor cars were looked upon as mere jokes or as rather dangerous playthings, by everyone except their inventors. Some of them were single-seaters, others would carry two or even three people; but all were noisy, clumsy, queer-looking things. When in 1888. Carl Benz, a German-produced a three-wheeled, internal combustion car, a great forward stride had been made. Another German, whose name. Daimler, who is often seen on motor cars to this day, was experimenting at about the same time and testing a petrol-driven engine.

It is easy to understand how the introduction of the petrol-driven engine revolutionized road transport throughout the world. Until then the necessary power to push a vehicle along could not be obtained without the cumbersome tanks, boilers, and furnaces of the steam engine. The internal combustion engine is light in weight and small in size by comparison; the fuel is burned in it, so that there is no waste, like the dusty cinders of a coal fire.

It was in Germany and France that the first successful attempts were made to produce an internal combustion engine driven by petrol. In England, people were strangely timid about horseless vehicles. English inventors were handicapped by a quaint old law that forbade any such vehicle to attain a greater speed than four miles an hour and compelled each one to be preceded by a man carrying a red flag. This law was not repealed until 1896.

The earliest motor cars were looked upon as mere jokes or as rather dangerous playthings, by everyone except their inventors. Some of them were single-seaters, others would carry two or even three people; but all were noisy, clumsy, queer-looking things. When in 1888. Carl Benz, a German-produced a three-wheeled, internal combustion car, a great forward stride had been made. Another German, whose name. Daimler, who is often seen on motor cars to this day, was experimenting at about the same time and testing a petrol-driven engine.

It is easy to understand how the introduction of the petrol-driven engine revolutionized road transport throughout the world. Until then the necessary power to push a vehicle along could not be obtained without the cumbersome tanks, boilers, and furnaces of the steam engine. The internal combustion engine is light in weight and small in size by comparison; the fuel is burned in it, so that there is no waste, like the dusty cinders of a coal fire.

So Tiziano continued to draw. But one thing troubled him greatly all the pictures he made were black drawn with his piece of black charcoal. Yet around him glowed a perfect glory of color the beautiful blue of the sky, the delicate, changing pink of the great jagged peaks above him the red, blue, and yellow wildflowers, the golden brilliance of sunshine and the rich, soft, mellowed tints in the old houses of the town, Colour! Tiziano loved it more than anything else in the world

Yet, how was he to reproduce it and get it into his pictures? He had no money to buy paints, and paints were expensive these days. His father, who was a mountaineer, would never listen to anything so foolish as buying paints for a boy when the family needed food, clothing, and fuel to keep them warm. 

Let Tiziano make shoes! That was a trade for a man! All the same, Tiziano continued to dream of painting and to wonder if there was not some way he could make a picture in colors. 

The day before the festival of flowers, Tiziano chanced to pass the spot where the garlands had been woven the evening before. Suddenly, he noticed stains on the stones of the walk before the inn. They were every color that a painter needed! In a moment the feast and the fun went out of Tiziano's mind. Catarina saw her brother hastening out of the village. She ran to bring him back and found him in a meadow looking like a variegated quilt from the brilliance of the wildflowers. "Tiziano!" she called, "Why are you running away from the feast? The boy did not answer for a moment. Too often he had been teased by his family and the villagers for the crazy dreams in his head. At last, he answered bluntly. "I have found that the stains of flowers make colors and I am going to paint a picture.”

So Tiziano continued to draw. But one thing troubled him greatly all the pictures he made were black drawn with his piece of black charcoal. Yet around him glowed a perfect glory of color the beautiful blue of the sky, the delicate, changing pink of the great jagged peaks above him the red, blue, and yellow wildflowers, the golden brilliance of sunshine and the rich, soft, mellowed tints in the old houses of the town, Colour! Tiziano loved it more than anything else in the world

Yet, how was he to reproduce it and get it into his pictures? He had no money to buy paints, and paints were expensive these days. His father, who was a mountaineer, would never listen to anything so foolish as buying paints for a boy when the family needed food, clothing, and fuel to keep them warm. 

Let Tiziano make shoes! That was a trade for a man! All the same, Tiziano continued to dream of painting and to wonder if there was not some way he could make a picture in colors. 

The day before the festival of flowers, Tiziano chanced to pass the spot where the garlands had been woven the evening before. Suddenly, he noticed stains on the stones of the walk before the inn. They were every color that a painter needed! In a moment the feast and the fun went out of Tiziano's mind. Catarina saw her brother hastening out of the village. She ran to bring him back and found him in a meadow looking like a variegated quilt from the brilliance of the wildflowers. "Tiziano!" she called, "Why are you running away from the feast? The boy did not answer for a moment. Too often he had been teased by his family and the villagers for the crazy dreams in his head. At last, he answered bluntly. "I have found that the stains of flowers make colors and I am going to paint a picture.”

So Tiziano continued to draw. But one thing troubled him greatly all the pictures he made were black drawn with his piece of black charcoal. Yet around him glowed a perfect glory of color the beautiful blue of the sky, the delicate, changing pink of the great jagged peaks above him the red, blue, and yellow wildflowers, the golden brilliance of sunshine and the rich, soft, mellowed tints in the old houses of the town, Colour! Tiziano loved it more than anything else in the world

Yet, how was he to reproduce it and get it into his pictures? He had no money to buy paints, and paints were expensive these days. His father, who was a mountaineer, would never listen to anything so foolish as buying paints for a boy when the family needed food, clothing, and fuel to keep them warm. 

Let Tiziano make shoes! That was a trade for a man! All the same, Tiziano continued to dream of painting and to wonder if there was not some way he could make a picture in colors. 

The day before the festival of flowers, Tiziano chanced to pass the spot where the garlands had been woven the evening before. Suddenly, he noticed stains on the stones of the walk before the inn. They were every color that a painter needed! In a moment the feast and the fun went out of Tiziano's mind. Catarina saw her brother hastening out of the village. She ran to bring him back and found him in a meadow looking like a variegated quilt from the brilliance of the wildflowers. "Tiziano!" she called, "Why are you running away from the feast? The boy did not answer for a moment. Too often he had been teased by his family and the villagers for the crazy dreams in his head. At last, he answered bluntly. "I have found that the stains of flowers make colors and I am going to paint a picture.”

So Tiziano continued to draw. But one thing troubled him greatly all the pictures he made were black drawn with his piece of black charcoal. Yet around him glowed a perfect glory of color the beautiful blue of the sky, the delicate, changing pink of the great jagged peaks above him the red, blue, and yellow wildflowers, the golden brilliance of sunshine and the rich, soft, mellowed tints in the old houses of the town, Colour! Tiziano loved it more than anything else in the world

Yet, how was he to reproduce it and get it into his pictures? He had no money to buy paints, and paints were expensive these days. His father, who was a mountaineer, would never listen to anything so foolish as buying paints for a boy when the family needed food, clothing, and fuel to keep them warm. 

Let Tiziano make shoes! That was a trade for a man! All the same, Tiziano continued to dream of painting and to wonder if there was not some way he could make a picture in colors. 

The day before the festival of flowers, Tiziano chanced to pass the spot where the garlands had been woven the evening before. Suddenly, he noticed stains on the stones of the walk before the inn. They were every color that a painter needed! In a moment the feast and the fun went out of Tiziano's mind. Catarina saw her brother hastening out of the village. She ran to bring him back and found him in a meadow looking like a variegated quilt from the brilliance of the wildflowers. "Tiziano!" she called, "Why are you running away from the feast? The boy did not answer for a moment. Too often he had been teased by his family and the villagers for the crazy dreams in his head. At last, he answered bluntly. "I have found that the stains of flowers make colors and I am going to paint a picture.”

So Tiziano continued to draw. But one thing troubled him greatly all the pictures he made were black drawn with his piece of black charcoal. Yet around him glowed a perfect glory of color the beautiful blue of the sky, the delicate, changing pink of the great jagged peaks above him the red, blue, and yellow wildflowers, the golden brilliance of sunshine and the rich, soft, mellowed tints in the old houses of the town, Colour! Tiziano loved it more than anything else in the world

Yet, how was he to reproduce it and get it into his pictures? He had no money to buy paints, and paints were expensive these days. His father, who was a mountaineer, would never listen to anything so foolish as buying paints for a boy when the family needed food, clothing, and fuel to keep them warm. 

Let Tiziano make shoes! That was a trade for a man! All the same, Tiziano continued to dream of painting and to wonder if there was not some way he could make a picture in colors. 

The day before the festival of flowers, Tiziano chanced to pass the spot where the garlands had been woven the evening before. Suddenly, he noticed stains on the stones of the walk before the inn. They were every color that a painter needed! In a moment the feast and the fun went out of Tiziano's mind. Catarina saw her brother hastening out of the village. She ran to bring him back and found him in a meadow looking like a variegated quilt from the brilliance of the wildflowers. "Tiziano!" she called, "Why are you running away from the feast? The boy did not answer for a moment. Too often he had been teased by his family and the villagers for the crazy dreams in his head. At last, he answered bluntly. "I have found that the stains of flowers make colors and I am going to paint a picture.”