Which phrase in this excerpt from James Joyce's "Araby" is a participial phrase? North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces. The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes under one of which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister. Reset Next

In this excerpt from "quality" by john galsworthy, which two parts clearly indicate the literary point of view of the essay? that tenement had a certain quiet distinction; there was no sign upon its face that he made for any of the royal family—merely his own german name of gessler brothers; and in the window a few pairs of boots. i remember that it always troubled me to account for those unvarying boots in the window, for he made only what was ordered, reaching nothing down, and it seemed so inconceivable that what he made could ever have failed to fit. had he bought them to put there? that, too, seemed inconceivable. he would never have tolerated in his house leather on which he had not worked himself. besides, they were too beautiful—the pair of pumps, so inexpressibly slim, the patent leathers with cloth tops, making water come into one's mouth, the tall brown riding boots with marvellous sooty glow, as if, though new, they had been worn a hundred years. those pairs could only have been made by one who saw before him the soul of boot—so truly were they prototypes incarnating the very spirit of all foot-gear. these thoughts, of course, came to me later, though even when i was promoted to him, at the age of perhaps fourteen, some inkling haunted me of the dignity of himself and brother. for to make boots—such boots as he made—seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and wonderful.