Reading task 2
Reading task: gapped text 2
For questions 1-6, choose which of the paragraphs A-G fit into the gaps in the following magazine article. There is one extra paragraph which does not fit in any of the gaps. In the exam, you will mark your answers on a separate answer sheet.
The story of the lamb-plant
According to a recent survey, 70 per cent of ten-year-olds living in Scotland's big cities think that cotton comes from sheep. It's easy enough to mistake the soft white stuff sold in fluffy balls in plastic bags at the local chemist's shop or supermarket with the curly stuff on a sheep's back, especially when the only sheep you've seen are in books or on the TV.
1.
Rumours had first begun to circulate way back in the Middle Ages. The borametz, also known as the 'lamb-plant', was said to exist in Tartary, a far-away land stretching across Eastern Europe and Asia. None of those who told the various tales had actually seen it, but they'd always met men who had.
2.
The man responsible for spreading the story in Britain was John Mandeville, a knight of England who left home in 1322, and for the next 34 years travelled about the world to many diverse countries. His account of what he saw was the medieval equivalent of a bestseller, and was translated in every European language. He wrote that he too had seen a type of fruit that when opened, proved to contain a small white creature that looked in every way to be a lamb.
3.
This was apparently proof enough for Mandeville and those who passed on the story. With each telling, the story gained new details and greater credibility. But in the 16th and 17th centuries, people learned more about the world and its inhabitants. As doubts crept in, more sceptical travellers set out in search of the mysterious lamb of Tartary.
4.
And so it went on. As soon as anyone voiced doubts, someone else popped up with new 'evidence' of the lamb's existence. In 1605, Frenchman Claude Duret devoted a whole chapter of a book on plants to the borametz. But then, 80 years later, the great traveller Engelbrecht Kaempfer went east looking for it. He found nothing but ordinary sheep. The number of believers was dwindling, and in London the renowned scientific academy, the Royal Society, decided it was time to 'kill off’ the borametz for good.
5.
This, the Society reckoned, was what had started the ancient rumours. They proclaimed it to be a 'specimen' of a borametz, in fact. Hans Sloane, founder of the British Museum, described the specimen in a contemporary publication: it was made from the root of a tree fern, had four legs and a head and seemed to be shaped by nature to imitate a lamb. The four-footed fake also had 'wool' of a dark golden yellow. Despite this discrepancy in the colour of its fleece, the Royal Society considered the case closed.
6.
The answer was there all along in the writings of ancient travellers. While researching his book Sea Monsters Unmasked, the observant Henry Lee kept coming across detailed descriptions of plants that sounded far more like the prototype borametz. The Royal Society, Lee decided, had failed to spot the obvious connection and had settled for something so unlikely it had to be wrong. What so many had imagined to be a mythical animal in fact turned out to be ordinary cotton.
A And so it was, more or less, for 180 years. Then a little known naturalist pointed out that their so-called 'original' lamb-plant was a false clue. There was, however, a plant that had almost certainly given rise to the notion of the borametz.
B There's certainly doubt as to whether this was based on first-hand experience, but the contemporary guidebooks were certainly available. A few years earlier, a monk who came from a monastery near Padua, wrote that 'there grow fruits, which when they are ripe and open, display a little beast much like a young lamb'. He claimed he had heard this from reliable sources.
C The best way, it felt, was by showing people how the idea had begun. It was then lucky enough to suddenly receive a curious object from China, a sort of toy animal made from a plant with a few extra bits stuck on to give it a proper number of limbs.
D In some versions the 'vegetable lambs' were the fruits of a tree that grew from a round seed. When the fruits ripened, they burst open to reveal tiny lambs with soft white fleeces that the natives used to make their cloth. In others, the seed gave rise to a white lamb that grew on a stalk rooted in the ground, and lived by grazing on any plants it could reach.
E There's less excuse for the generations of explorers, scholars and philosophers who were perhaps even more naive. They were all happy to accept the story that the soft fibres from which eastern people wove fine white cloth came, in fact, from a creature that was half-plant, half-animal.
F Distorted descriptions of the cotton plants seen in India preceded the actual plants by many years. In the meantime, traders bought samples of cotton 'wool' along trade routes that passed through Tartar lands. To those who had never seen raw cotton, this fine Tartar wool' looked like something that might come from the fleece of a lamb.
G Still it eluded them, yet most came home convinced that it existed. One of these was a powerful baron who represented the Holy Roman Empire at the Russian court. The baron had dismissed the sheep-on-a-stalk as fable until he heard the creature described by a 'person in high authority' whose father had once been an envoy to the King of Tartary. The story was enough to convince the baron.
According to a recent survey, 70 per cent of ten-year-olds living in Scotland's big cities think that cotton comes from sheep. It's easy enough to mistake the soft white stuff sold in fluffy balls in plastic bags at the local chemist's shop or supermarket with the curly stuff on a sheep's back, especially when the only sheep you've seen are in books or on the TV.
1.
Rumours had first begun to circulate way back in the Middle Ages. The borametz, also known as the 'lamb-plant', was said to exist in Tartary, a far-away land stretching across Eastern Europe and Asia. None of those who told the various tales had actually seen it, but they'd always met men who had.
2.
The man responsible for spreading the story in Britain was John Mandeville, a knight of England who left home in 1322, and for the next 34 years travelled about the world to many diverse countries. His account of what he saw was the medieval equivalent of a bestseller, and was translated in every European language. He wrote that he too had seen a type of fruit that when opened, proved to contain a small white creature that looked in every way to be a lamb.
3.
This was apparently proof enough for Mandeville and those who passed on the story. With each telling, the story gained new details and greater credibility. But in the 16th and 17th centuries, people learned more about the world and its inhabitants. As doubts crept in, more sceptical travellers set out in search of the mysterious lamb of Tartary.
4.
And so it went on. As soon as anyone voiced doubts, someone else popped up with new 'evidence' of the lamb's existence. In 1605, Frenchman Claude Duret devoted a whole chapter of a book on plants to the borametz. But then, 80 years later, the great traveller Engelbrecht Kaempfer went east looking for it. He found nothing but ordinary sheep. The number of believers was dwindling, and in London the renowned scientific academy, the Royal Society, decided it was time to 'kill off’ the borametz for good.
5.
This, the Society reckoned, was what had started the ancient rumours. They proclaimed it to be a 'specimen' of a borametz, in fact. Hans Sloane, founder of the British Museum, described the specimen in a contemporary publication: it was made from the root of a tree fern, had four legs and a head and seemed to be shaped by nature to imitate a lamb. The four-footed fake also had 'wool' of a dark golden yellow. Despite this discrepancy in the colour of its fleece, the Royal Society considered the case closed.
6.
The answer was there all along in the writings of ancient travellers. While researching his book Sea Monsters Unmasked, the observant Henry Lee kept coming across detailed descriptions of plants that sounded far more like the prototype borametz. The Royal Society, Lee decided, had failed to spot the obvious connection and had settled for something so unlikely it had to be wrong. What so many had imagined to be a mythical animal in fact turned out to be ordinary cotton.
A And so it was, more or less, for 180 years. Then a little known naturalist pointed out that their so-called 'original' lamb-plant was a false clue. There was, however, a plant that had almost certainly given rise to the notion of the borametz.
B There's certainly doubt as to whether this was based on first-hand experience, but the contemporary guidebooks were certainly available. A few years earlier, a monk who came from a monastery near Padua, wrote that 'there grow fruits, which when they are ripe and open, display a little beast much like a young lamb'. He claimed he had heard this from reliable sources.
C The best way, it felt, was by showing people how the idea had begun. It was then lucky enough to suddenly receive a curious object from China, a sort of toy animal made from a plant with a few extra bits stuck on to give it a proper number of limbs.
D In some versions the 'vegetable lambs' were the fruits of a tree that grew from a round seed. When the fruits ripened, they burst open to reveal tiny lambs with soft white fleeces that the natives used to make their cloth. In others, the seed gave rise to a white lamb that grew on a stalk rooted in the ground, and lived by grazing on any plants it could reach.
E There's less excuse for the generations of explorers, scholars and philosophers who were perhaps even more naive. They were all happy to accept the story that the soft fibres from which eastern people wove fine white cloth came, in fact, from a creature that was half-plant, half-animal.
F Distorted descriptions of the cotton plants seen in India preceded the actual plants by many years. In the meantime, traders bought samples of cotton 'wool' along trade routes that passed through Tartar lands. To those who had never seen raw cotton, this fine Tartar wool' looked like something that might come from the fleece of a lamb.
G Still it eluded them, yet most came home convinced that it existed. One of these was a powerful baron who represented the Holy Roman Empire at the Russian court. The baron had dismissed the sheep-on-a-stalk as fable until he heard the creature described by a 'person in high authority' whose father had once been an envoy to the King of Tartary. The story was enough to convince the baron.