Test bank for microbiology a systems approach 3rd edition by cowan

Microbiology A Systems Approach 3rd

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Chapter 001 The Main Themes of Microbiology

Multiple Choice Questions

1. When humans manipulate the genes of microorganisms the process is called

A. Bioremediation

B. Genetic engineering

C. Epidemiology

D. Immunology

E. Taxonomy

2. Which of the following is not considered a microorganism?

A. Mosquito

B. Protozoa

C. Bacteria

D. Viruses

E. Fungi

3. All microorganisms are best defined as organisms that

A. Cause human disease

B. Lack a cell nucleus

C. Are infectious particles

D. Are too small to be seen with the unaided eye

E. Can only be found growing in laboratories

4. Which activity is an example of biotechnology?

A. Bacteria in the soil secreting an antibiotic to kill competitors

B. A microbiologist using the microscope to study bacteria

C. Egyptians using moldy bread on wounds

D. Eschericia coli producing human insulin

E. Public health officials monitoring diseases in a community

5. Living things ordinarily too small to be seen with the unaided eye are termed

A. Bacteria

B. Viruses

C. Parasites

D. Microorganisms

E. None of the choices is correct

6. The study of the immune response to infection caused by microorganisms is

A. Hypersensitivity

B. Epidemiology

C. Immunology

D. Morbidity

E. Geomicrobiology

7. Which of the following does not indicate microbe involvement in energy and nutrient flow?

A. Formation of oxygen by an oxygenic photosynthesis

B. Formation of greenhouse gases

C. Formation of soil

D. Digestion of complex carbohydrates in animal diets

E. Decomposition of dead matter and wastes

8. The microorganisms that recycle nutrients by breaking down dead matter and wastes are called

A. Decomposers

B. Prokaryotes

C. Pathogens

D. Eukaryotes

E. Fermenters

9. The microorganisms that do not have a nucleus in their cells are called

A. Decomposers

B. Prokaryotes

C. Pathogens

D. Eukaryotes

E. Fermenters

10. The first prokaryotes appeared about ___ billion years ago.

A. 5

B. 4

C. 3

D. 2

E. 1

11. Which of the following is not a human use of microorganisms?

A. Baking bread

B. Treating water and sewage

C. Breaking down chocolate

D. Mass producing antibiotics

E. Cleaning up oil spills

12. Using microbes to detoxify a site contaminated with heavy metals is an example of

A. Biotechnology

B. Bioremediation

C. Decomposition

D. Immunology

E. Epidemiology

13. Disease-causing microorganisms are called

A. Decomposers

B. Prokaryotes

C. Pathogens

D. Eukaryotes

E. Fermenters

14. The number one worldwide infectious diseases are

A. AIDS related diseases

B. Diarrhea diseases

C. Malaria diseases

D. Measles

E. Respiratory diseases

T T P M.

Three practical men went strolling West, Out into the West as the Bar came down; Each said to the workmen, “May you be blest, For moving this obstacle out of the town! For cabs still crawl, and ’busses still creep— While stultified aldermen vainly weep, Their ancient Bar bemoaning.”

Three barmaids stood in their gas-lit bower, And filled each glass as the Bar came down; And the practical gentlemen looked at the shower, And the mud that was rolling up slimy and brown, For men will drink, and women must keep Replenishing beakers, while potions deep Are quaffed to the Bar and its “boning.”

Three “lushingtons” lie in the roaring Strand, ’Neath the Law Courts’ shade as the Bar comes down, And the barmaids are peeping—a giggling band— For they know the police may be squared with a crown. Ah! liquors are potent, and draughts are deep, And the more you imbibe, why, the sooner you sleep, An’ goo’-bye to th’ Bar an’s moaning!

Funny Folks, January 26, 1878,

T T P.

[“There must be three profits obtained from land.”—Lord Beaconsfield.]

“Three profits” had got to come out of the land— Out of the land where the cash went down— The farmer some capital still had in hand, Which stood in his name at the bank in the town. For rents fall due, and tenants must pay, And there’s little quarter on Quarter-day From the lord the land who’s owning.

Three landlords sat in an ancient hall, And mourned the way that their rents went down!

“Three profits!” they cried. “It is ours that fall! Where once we’d a sovereign, now we’ve a crown! We have to live—and our farms won’t let! And we can’t exist upon what we get— So what use is the land we’re owning!”

Three farmers consulted about their lands— Each face was sad with a thoughtful frown The profits were all paid to farming “hands”— The profits were all in the land sunk down!

“Three profits!” they cried, “there’s not a doubt Our landlords and we must go without, And ‘Good-bye’ to our old farms owning!”

Funny Folks, October 18, 1879.

W

B.

By an Old Boy

Three lambkins went larking there out in the west,— Out in the west at the dawn of day; At pulling of knockers they all did their best, And the bobbies looked on in a bobbylike way. For boys will be boys, and bobbies will bob, And when you get cotched you get one on the nob, If you’re out on the spree of a morning.

Three lambkins got lagged and were shut up in quod, Twenty-six knockers the bobbies they found.

Mr. W, he said that such conduct was odd, And he mulct each poor lambkin of twenty-one pound; For beaks will be beaks, though boys may be boys. You must grin and must bear, not kick up a noise At the court when you show in the morning.

A marquess, a colonel, a captain, and I Forty years gone went out on the spree; To every trick on the cards we were fly, And now of the four alive there’s but me. For night will come and man must die, And we come, to look back half ashamed by and by On what we thought fun in the morning.

udy, March 19, 1879.

T T L A I.

The following were selected, from over one hundred parodies sent in to The World, as worthy of the first and second prizes:—

F P.

Three rascals went ranting round in the West, Disturbing old Ireland, country and town; “Bedad, it’s the landlords is bastes at the best! And if ever they drive ye for rent, shoot ’em down!”

For rogues must rant, and good men must weep, With starvation to earn, and prison to keep, And a cry for Freedom sounding.

Three captives sat in the prison drear, And they longed for their pipes as the sun went down; And they sniffed their stale loaves, and they begged for some beer, And they swore at their mattrasses rugged and brown. For rogues who rant in prison must weep, And planks are knotty, and treadmills are steep, Though Freedom’s echoes be sounding.

Three cropped heads fresh from the barber’s shears, Three bowls of thin gruel as salt as the sea, Three curses on Parnell, three strong men in tears, “Me boys, ye are marthers to Fradom!” says he. For fools must smart, and victims must weep, And the harder the mattrass the later to sleep, So good-bye to the three in their “pounding.”

.

S P.

Three land agitators went down to the West, Went down to the West, where the storm-clouds rise; Each thought of fair Erin, the land of unrest, And of fair Erin’s children, so poor, so unwise. For times are hard, and harvests are bad, And there’s little to comfort and little to glad, And Famine’s throes impending.

Three men spoke up to the Gurteen throng, And they trimmed their words by Home-Rule light; They railed at the landlords, they raved about wrong, And curses came rolling up black as the night, For times are hard, and harvests are bad, And troubles are many, and hearts grow sad, With treason’s woes impending.

Three captives lay prisoned in Sligo jail, Away in the West where the sun goes down; And men mutter fiercely, and women bewail, And Erin—poor Erin!—must reap the crop sown, For times are hard and harvests are bad, And famine and treason make misery mad, Despair and death the ending.

he World, December 10, 1879.

.

T T A.

Three Paddies went spouting away at Gurteen, Away at Gurteen in old Erin’s Isle, Each stormed at the Saxons, their laws and their Queen, And the “boys” their shillaleghs stood twirling the while; For tenants must shoot, and landlords must die, Cold lead is cheap, and the rents are high, So, hurray for the agitation!

Three Bobbies came up, and they tapp’d those Pats On the shoulders, just in a friendly way, And they look’d rather sold, as they put on their hats, For the game was up, and it would’nt pay! But tenants must shoot, and landlords must die, Though a dirty Government plays the spy On the Irish agitation!

Three martyrs lay lock’d in the Sligo gaol, In the Sligo gaol as the sun went down, And the loafers set up a discordant wail For those whose orations were lost to the town! For tenants must shoot, and landlords must die, And the sooner they’re potted, the sooner we’ll cry Farewell to the agitation!

rom Snatches of Song, by F. B. D. (Wyman and Sons, London, 1880.)

T J F.

Three fishes were floating about in the sea; Three fishes which were of the Jelly-fish kind, And being perceived by a certain grandee, They called up at once, as he said, to his mind, How much they resembled in form and degree, Three colleagues he recently had left behind. And men now will laugh and women must smile At this very apt joke of the Duke of Argyll.

These fishes, he said, iridescent but limp Seem’d all at first sight to be able to sail, But examined had not e’en so much as the shrimp The power of propelling themselves by the tail; They neither had skeletons, nerve, nor backbone, Were nothing but jelly, no will of their own, So women must scoff at, and men will deride These structureless creatures adrift in the tide.

This witty grandee has been wont to come out, To come out of his house when the sun has gone down, To meet with his compeers, tall, lean, short and stout, And bishops arrayed in black gaiters and gown, But no one could predicate till he’d begin, With head well thrown back and with prominent chin, Whether friends had to cheer or opponents to moan, Over what would among them most surely be thrown. But all must rejoice, and none can deplore, Our having among us the Mac Allum More.

Morning Post, August 4, 1881.

T T F.

Three Tories[47] went bravely down into the North, Away to the North which the “Rads” love best; Each thought of the man that had driven him forth, From the snug little berth that he once possessed: For Placemen must live, though the country may starve, And sometimes a blister, and sometimes a salve, Will set party waves a-rolling.

Three Orators spoke for many an hour, And told ’em the blunders that Gladstone had made, Which they only could right if returned into power: And they gave ’em some pious “opinions” on trade. For Placemen must live, and—though hardly the thing, Yet even to Newcastle coals you must bring, To set Tory tides a-rolling.

Three “Failures” came back, as we’ve all of us read, Sad, if not wiser, to London town; For e’en Tory organs were shaking a head, And hinted they’d better have not gone down. But Placemen must live—every dog has a day, And even “Fair Trade” may, for once in a way, Keep party waves a-rolling.

rom Grins and Groans. 1882.

T A, 1882.

T M-S.

J. W. O, A.R.A.

There were three pussy-cats sought the tiles, They sought the tiles as the sun went down, Their faces were wreathed with complacent smiles, For they were about to “do it brown.” And men may growl and women may weep, But nobody gets him a wink of sleep For pussy-cats’ caterwauling.

There were three parties who yearned for sleep, Who yearned for sleep as the sun went down, They used expressions “not loud but deep,” At pussies’ commencing to “do it brown.”

For men may growl and women may weep, But who, may I ask, can manage to sleep, With pussy-cats caterwauling.

There were three parties who rose in rage, Who rose in nocturnal cap and gown, And one of the pussies was, I’ll engage, A little surprised when they knocked her down. A second succumbed to a pistol shot, The other fell down a chimney-pot— “Good bye to the cats a-wauling!”

rom Fun Academy Skits, 1882.

T L F.

Three fishmongers looked for a sale down west, In the heart of the west, when the world’s in town, Each thought of the neighbourhood paying him best Where the prices go up but never come down; For fools will pay when they can’t buy cheap, So back to the sea every day goes a heap, While the public look on groaning.

Three Stores were set up some miles from the Tower, And the fish got west all over the town, And the middlemen cried, “We’re in for a shower, If this goes on! Why the price will come down! For men will dine, and—if they can—cheap, And the public seems waking at last from its sleep— It’s so precious tired of groaning!”

Three bankrupts are showing their empty hands, And all that they get for their pains is a frown, And a “Serve you right—why, ’twas your demands That for years have plundered and starved the town!” But fools grow wise, and fish can get cheap, Three halfpence a pound anywhere in the heap, And the public has done with its groaning!

T P.

Three potters set out all dressed in their best, All dressed in their best as the sun went down, Each sought out the butcher who’d serve him the best, It was Saturday night, and a crowd in the town— For women must cook and men must eat, And the nearer the bone the sweeter the meat, Tho’ ’tis better by far with no bone in.

Three wives sat wearily “watching for pa,” Till the sweet chimes jingled the midnight hour, And they waited and watched with the doors ajar, Oh, where were the joints, the spuds, and the flour! For women can’t cook if the cupboard is bare, And a dinnerless Sunday will make a saint swear, With the poor little children moaning.

Three potters came home all dressed in their best, All dressed in their best, but draggled and torn, Nothing they brought—you may guess the rest, And the wigging they got from their wives forlorn, For men should be sober at each week end, And give their wives their wages to spend, Then there’d be no headaches and groaning.

(Stoke-upon-Trent, 1884)

T T C.

Three Champions went stumping up into the North, Up into the North with identical creeds; Lord S. took the Clyde, and Sir S the Forth, While Lord R he posed as a Leader at Leeds, For if Radicals rant, then Tories will fret, And there’s little to learn, and much to forget, When our rival Chiefs are spouting.

Three Editors sat in their newspaper towers, While the “flimsies” came pouring in fast as could be; And they kindly cut short the rhetorical flowers, And sighed when the language was “painful and free;” For if Rads will threaten, then Tories must scold, Though Europe be angry and ironclads old, And patriots hate this spouting.

Three crowds of admirers they chortled and cheered, For the Leaders went up, and their speeches “went down;” And the Editors swear by Lord B’ beard That the country is with them as well as the Town. But though Tories and Radicals scream themselves red, The sooner it’s over, the sooner to bed, And good-bye to this pestilent spouting! unch, October 11, 1884.

Three Fossils sat perched in the Whitehall Zoo, Out far in the West where the sun goes down; Each thought of his crotchet—the last one he knew; And their fads and their whims were the talk of the town. For men must work and women must weep, Or there’ll be no money the Fossils to keep; And the shipowning folks are groaning.

Three shipowners sat in their wild despair, By East or by West they were all done brown! For the Fossils had ruined the trade once so fair; And the foreigners cut in to put the freights down. But men must work and women must weep; ’Tis hard to do else when there’s nothing to eat, While the Fossils go on droning.

Three ships were laid up in the stream hard by; And the crews were discharged ere the sun went down; And nothing was left for a roof but the sky; And the moon’s not as warm as a quilt made of down. But men must work and women must weep; For none but a Fossil in comfort can sleep, When the Shipping trade is groaning.

Three Fossils laid stretched on a Whitehall floor; Right flat on the floor, on a carpet brown. And their collars were dirty; and loud was their snore; For they’d all been enjoying a night about town. But men must work and women must weep, And when the spree’s ended the Fossils can sleep, While the hard-working world is moaning.

Fairplay, November 7, 1884.

T F.

Three fishermen went gaily out into the North— Out into the North ere the sun was high, And they chuckled with glee as they sallied forth, Resolved to capture the trout—or die. For men will fish and men will lie, About the fish they “caught on the fly,” Their Sunday-school lessons scorning.

Three fishers lay under the trees at noon, And “blamed” the whole of the finny race, For never a nibble touched fly or spoon, And each sighed as he wet the hole in his face, For men will fish and men will lie, And the way they caught trout when nobody’s nigh Is something to tell—in the morning.

Three fishermen came into town at night, And their “speckled beauties” were fair to see: They talked of their “sports” with keen delight, The envy of all the fraternity. But men will fish and men will lie, And what they can’t catch they’re sure to buy, And never repeat in the morning.

he Saturday Evening Post, hiladelphia, U.S.A. June 27, 1885.

U. N. N.

Three acres seemed pleasant to Countryman Hodge; With Countryman Hodge, too, the Cow went down; The Acres and Cow were a capital dodge For those who could never get in for the town. The men may vote—the women may not— But the Primrose League is the comfort they’ve got; So the Knights and Dames go cadging!

Three Rads came out in the country to speak— By the village-pumps where the Cow went down; And they all kept talking on end for a week, Till the rustics came polling up, horny and brown. The men did vote—the women did not— But though they didn’t, they canvassed a lot; And the Knights and Dames went cadging!

Three Tories retired to their Primrose Lodge— Left out in the cold when the Cow went down; And the women sate cussing at Countryman Hodge, For going and spoiling the votes of the town. That men should vote—and women should not!

But if ever they do, ’twill for Members be hot, So, good-bye to the Dames, and their cadging! unch, December 19, 1885.

Three farmers went driving up into the town, Up into the town when the sun was low; Each thought what he’d do when the sun went down, And the women came outward to see them go. For farmers must carry their produce to town To buy themselves clothes and the women a gown, And the neighbours wives are groaning.

Three peelers stood out on their lonely beat And swung their staves as the sun went down, They looked at their helmets and looked at their feet, And now and then squinted round through the town: For “cops” must hunt for men who are full, And finding them, ’tis their duty to “pull” Though the prisoners may start howling.

Three farmers were locked in a cell that night, Who, loaded with “lush” as the sun went down; Their produce they sold and they soon got tight, And started at once to take in the town. For “cops” will “pull” whenever they see Three farmers together out on a big spree, Whose wives are at home a-growling.

craps, January 1886.

T T.

Three topers went strolling out into the East, Out into the East as the sun went down— Each thought of the liquor that’s brewed with yeast, And not of the wife with the tattered gown— For men must drink, and women must weep, For there’s little to earn and nothing to keep, When the pot-house bar is groaning.

Three wives sat up in a garret bare, And they lit their dips as the sun sank low, And they gazed at the squalor and misery there Till the night-rake comes rolling up stagg’ring slow. For men must drink and women must weep, And storms are sudden when men drink deep, And the pot-house bar is groaning.

Three bodies lie out on the shining sands Of the pot-house floor in the morning light, And the women are weeping, and wringing their hands, For there’s murder done in a drunken fight. For men must drink, and women must weep; Oh! would that the Temperance pledge they’d keep, Bid adieu to the bar and its groaning.

H P, 1886.

T T P.

Three poets went sailing down Boston streets, All into the East as the sun went down, Each felt that the editor loved him best And would welcome spring poetry in Boston town. For poets must write tho’ the editors frown, Their æsthetic natures will not be put down, While the harbour bar is moaning!

Three editors climbed to the highest tower That they could find in all Boston town, And they planned to conceal themselves, hour after hour, Till the sun or the poets had both gone down. For Spring poets must write though the editors rage, The artistic spirit must thus be engaged— Though the editors all were groaning.

Three corpses lay out on the Back Bay sand, Just after the first spring sun went down, And the Press sat down to a banquet grand, In honour of poets no more in the town. For poets will write while editors sleep, Though they’ve nothing to earn and no one to keep; And the harbour bar keeps moaning.

L W.

From an American collection, entitled The Wit of Women by Kate Sanborn.

T T F.

Three filchers went cadging in character dressed, To every move most remarkably down, Each thought on the fakement that suited him best; And the peelers stood watching them out on the town.

“Oh, we don’t want no vork, ’cos ve goes on the cheap, We prigs all ve can, though but little we keep, And we are the boys for boning.”

Three bob-hobbies sat by the station fire, And to trim these scamps they a plan laid down; They looked very sly, but may need to look slyer, For these night-hawks were old ’uns at doing ’em brown. “Oh, vhen ve vork honest folks are asleep, And in their strong boxes ve takes a sly peep, And we are the boys for boning.”

Three convicts, connected with iron bands, In the saddest plights of the “jug” went down, And the peelers are grinning and rubbing their hands At the coves who will never more cadge on the town.

“Now then ve must vork with our hands and our feet, Sich a gitting up-stairs—oh, ain’t it a treat, Besides we are barred from boning.”

rom The Free Lance, Manchester.

T S.

Three students were walking, all dressed in their best, On a Sunday in Term, without cap, without gown. Each lit a cigar that came from the West, And they thought they’d astonish the men of the town. For men will slum, tho’ their guv’nors weep, Who have got to stump up to pay for their keep, And the Tutor ’bout work may be groaning.

Three students sat up past the midnight chimes, And they re-trimmed their lamps, as they oft ran down, And they “mugged” at their Paley, and got up the rhymes, And turned o’er their “Dictions,” so ragged and brown. For men must work and give up their sleep, Their livings to earn and themselves to keep, Though o’er Euclid they be moaning

Three proctorised students the Proctor call’d up On the Monday morning. He sent them down; But not for the others did dons wring their hands, Because they would nevermore wear cap and gown. For if men won’t work by night or by day, The sooner they go down the less there’s to pay, When goodbye is said to the college.

rom The Lays of the Mocking Sprite, by E.

B. C. Cambridge, W. Metcalfe and Sons.

(There is no date to this curious little collection, nor does the Author’s name appear.)