From lands unwalled by seas!
Wilt2 thou endure forever,
O Milton’s England, these?
Thou that wast his Republic,
Wilt thou clasp their knees?
These royalties3 rust-eaten,
These worm-corroded lies
That keep thy head storm-beaten,
And sun-like strength of eyes
From the open air and heaven
Of intercepted4 skies!
Swinburne.
Vivat Rex Eduardus! They crowned a king this day, and there has been great rejoicing and elaborate tomfoolery, and I am perplexed5 and saddened. I never saw anything to compare with the pageant7, except Yankee circuses and Alhambra ballets; nor did I ever see anything so hopeless and so tragic8.
To have enjoyed the Coronation procession, I should have come straight from America to the Hotel Cecil, and straight from the Hotel Cecil to a five-guinea seat among the washed. My mistake was in coming from the unwashed of the East End. There were not many who came from that quarter. The East End, as a whole, remained in the East End and got drunk. The Socialists9, Democrats10, and Republicans went off to the country for a breath of fresh air, quite unaffected by the fact that four hundred millions of people were taking to themselves a crowned and anointed ruler. Six thousand five hundred prelates, priests, statesmen, princes, and warriors11 beheld12 the crowning and anointing, and the rest of us the pageant as it passed.
I saw it at Trafalgar Square, “the most splendid site in Europe,” and the very innermost heart of the empire. There were many thousands of us, all checked and held in order by a superb display of armed power. The line of march was double-walled with soldiers. The base of the Nelson Column was triple-fringed with bluejackets. Eastward14, at the entrance to the square, stood the Royal Marine15 Artillery16. In the triangle of Pall17 Mall and Cockspur Street, the statue of George III. was buttressed18 on either side by the Lancers and Hussars. To the west were the red-coats of the Royal Marines, and from the union Club to the embouchure of Whitehall swept the glittering, massive curve of the 1st Life Guards — gigantic men mounted on gigantic chargers, steel-breastplated, steel-helmeted, steel-caparisoned, a great war-sword of steel ready to the hand of the powers that be. And further, throughout the crowd, were flung long lines of the Metropolitan19 Constabulary, while in the rear were the reserves — tall, well-fed men, with weapons to wield20 and muscles to wield them in ease of need.
And as it was thus at Trafalgar Square, so was it along the whole line of march — force, overpowering force; myriads21 of men, splendid men, the pick of the people, whose sole function in life is blindly to obey, and blindly to kill and destroy and stamp out life. And that they should be well fed, well clothed, and well armed, and have ships to hurl23 them to the ends of the earth, the East End of London, and the “East End” of all England, toils24 and rots and dies.
There is a Chinese proverb that if one man lives in laziness another will die of hunger; and Montesquieu has said, “The fact that many men are occupied in making clothes for one individual is the cause of there being many people without clothes.” So one explains the other. We cannot understand the starved and runty 2 toiler25 of the East End (living with his family in a one-room den6, and letting out the floor space for lodgings26 to other starved and runty toilers) till we look at the strapping27 Life Guardsmen of the West End, and come to know that the one must feed and clothe and groom28 the other.
2 “Runt” in America is the equivalent of the English “crowl,” the dwarf29 of a litter.
And while in Westminster Abbey the people were taking unto themselves a king, I, jammed between the Life Guards and Constabulary of Trafalgar Square, was dwelling30 upon the time when the people of Israel first took unto themselves a king. You all know how it runs. The elders came to the prophet Samuel, and said: “Make us a king to judge us like all the nations.”
And the Lord said unto Samuel: Now therefore hearken unto their voice; howbeit thou shalt show them the manner of the king that shall reign31 over them.
And Samuel told all the words of the Lord unto the people that asked of him a king, and he said:
This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you; he will take your sons, and appoint them unto him, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen, and they shall run before his chariots.
And he will appoint them unto him for captains of thousands, and captains of fifties; and he will set some to plough his ground, and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and the instruments of his chariots.
And he will take your daughters to be confectionaries, and to be cooks, and to be bakers32.
And he will take your fields and your vineyards, and your oliveyards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants.
And he will take a tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give to his officers, and to his servants.
And he will take your menservants, and your maidservants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses33, and put them to his work.
He will take a tenth of your flocks; and ye shall be his servants.
And ye shall call out in that day because of your king which ye shall have chosen you; and the Lord will not answer you in that day.
All of which came to pass in that ancient day, and they did cry out to Samuel, saying: “Pray for thy servants unto the Lord thy God, that we die not; for we have added unto all our sins this evil, to ask us a king.” And after Saul, David, and Solomon, came Rehoboam, who “answered the people roughly, saying: My father made your yoke34 heavy, but I will add to your yoke; my father chastised36 you with whips, but I will chastise35 you with scorpions37.”
And in these latter days, five hundred hereditary38 peers own one-fifth of England; and they, and the officers and servants under the King, and those who go to compose the powers that be, yearly spend in wasteful39 luxury $1,850,000,000, or 370,000,000 pounds, which is thirty-two per cent. of the total wealth produced by all the toilers of the country.
At the Abbey, clad in wonderful golden raiment, amid fanfare40 of trumpets41 and throbbing42 of music, surrounded by a brilliant throng43 of masters, lords, and rulers, the King was being invested with the insignia of his sovereignty. The spurs were placed to his heels by the Lord Great Chamberlain, and a sword of state, in purple scabbard, was presented him by the Archbishop of Canterbury, with these words:—
Receive this kingly sword brought now from the altar of God, and delivered to you by the hands of the bishops45 and servants of God, though unworthy.
Whereupon, being girded, he gave heed46 to the Archbishop’s exhortation:—
With this sword do justice, stop the growth of iniquity47, protect the Holy Church of God, help and defend widows and orphans48, restore the things that are gone to decay, maintain the things that are restored, punish and reform what is amiss, and confirm what is in good order.
But hark! There is cheering down Whitehall; the crowd sways, the double walls of soldiers come to attention, and into view swing the King’s watermen, in fantastic mediaeval garbs49 of red, for all the world like the van of a circus parade. Then a royal carriage, filled with ladies and gentlemen of the household, with powdered footmen and coachmen most gorgeously arrayed. More carriages, lords, and chamberlains, viscounts, mistresses of the robes — lackeys50 all. Then the warriors, a kingly escort, generals, bronzed and worn, from the ends of the earth come up to London Town, volunteer officers, officers of the militia51 and regular forces; Spens and Plumer, Broadwood and Cooper who relieved Ookiep, Mathias of Dargai, Dixon of Vlakfontein; General Gaselee and Admiral Seymour of China; Kitchener of Khartoum; Lord Roberts of India and all the world — the fighting men of England, masters of destruction, engineers of death! Another race of men from those of the shops and slums, a totally different race of men.
But here they come, in all the pomp and certitude of power, and still they come, these men of steel, these war lords and world harnessers. Pell-mell, peers and commoners, princes and maharajahs, Equerries to the King and Yeomen of the Guard. And here the colonials, lithe52 and hardy53 men; and here all the breeds of all the world-soldiers from Canada, Australia, New Zealand; from Bermuda, Borneo, Fiji, and the Gold Coast; from Rhodesia, Cape54 Colony, Natal55, Sierra Leone and Gambia, Nigeria, and Uganda; from Ceylon, Cyprus, Hong–Kong, Jamaica, and Wei–Hai-Wei; from Lagos, Malta, St. Lucia, Singapore, Trinidad. And here the conquered men of Ind, swarthy horsemen and sword wielders, fiercely barbaric, blazing in crimson56 and scarlet57, Sikhs, Rajputs, Burmese, province by province, and caste by caste.
And now the Horse Guards, a glimpse of beautiful cream ponies58, and a golden panoply59, a hurricane of cheers, the crashing of bands —“The King! the King! God save the King!” Everybody has gone mad. The contagion60 is sweeping61 me off my feet — I, too, want to shout, “The King! God save the King!” Ragged62 men about me, tears in their eyes, are tossing up their hats and crying ecstatically, “Bless ’em! Bless ’em! Bless ’em!” See, there he is, in that wondrous63 golden coach, the great crown flashing on his head, the woman in white beside him likewise crowned.
And I check myself with a rush, striving to convince myself that it is all real and rational, and not some glimpse of fairyland. This I cannot succeed in doing, and it is better so. I much prefer to believe that all this pomp, and vanity, and show, and mumbo-jumbo foolery has come from fairyland, than to believe it the performance of sane64 and sensible people who have mastered matter and solved the secrets of the stars.
Princes and princelings, dukes, duchesses, and all manner of coroneted folk of the royal train are flashing past; more warriors, and lackeys, and conquered peoples, and the pagent is over. I drift with the crowd out of the square into a tangle65 of narrow streets, where the public-houses are a-roar with drunkenness, men, women, and children mixed together in colossal66 debauch67. And on every side is rising the favourite song of the Coronation:—
“Oh! on Coronation Day, on Coronation Day,
We’ll have a spree, a jubilee68, and shout, Hip22, hip, hooray,
For we’ll all be marry, drinking whisky, wine, and sherry,
We’ll all be merry on Coronation Day.”
The rain is pouring down. Up the street come troops of the auxiliaries69, black Africans and yellow Asiatics, beturbaned and befezed, and coolies swinging along with machine guns and mountain batteries on their heads, and the bare feet of all, in quick rhythm, going slish, slish, slish through the pavement mud. The public-houses empty by magic, and the swarthy allegiants are cheered by their British brothers, who return at once to the carouse70.
“And how did you like the procession, mate?” I asked an old man on a bench in Green Park.
“’Ow did I like it? A bloomin’ good chawnce, sez I to myself, for a sleep, wi’ all the coppers71 aw’y, so I turned into the corner there, along wi’ fifty others. But I couldn’t sleep, a-lyin’ there an’ thinkin’ ’ow I’d worked all the years o’ my life an’ now ’ad no plyce to rest my ’ead; an’ the music comin’ to me, an’ the cheers an’ cannon72, till I got almost a hanarchist an’ wanted to blow out the brains o’ the Lord Chamberlain.”
Why the Lord Chamberlain I could not precisely73 see, nor could he, but that was the way he felt, he said conclusively74, and them was no more discussion.
As night drew on, the city became a blaze of light. Splashes of colour, green, amber44, and ruby75, caught the eye at every point, and “E. R.,” in great crystal letters and backed by flaming gas, was everywhere. The crowds in the streets increased by hundreds of thousands, and though the police sternly put down mafficking, drunkenness and rough play abounded76. The tired workers seemed to have gone mad with the relaxation77 and excitement, and they surged and danced down the streets, men and women, old and young, with linked arms and in long rows, singing, “I may be crazy, but I love you,” “Dolly Gray,” and “The Honeysuckle and the Bee”— the last rendered something like this:—
“Yew78 aw the enny, ennyseckle, Oi em ther bee,
Oi’d like ter sip79 ther enny from those red lips, yew see.”
I sat on a bench on the Thames Embankment, looking across the illuminated80 water. It was approaching midnight, and before me poured the better class of merrymakers, shunning81 the more riotous82 streets and returning home. On the bench beside me sat two ragged creatures, a man and a woman, nodding and dozing83. The woman sat with her arms clasped across the breast, holding tightly, her body in constant play — now dropping forward till it seemed its balance would be overcome and she would fall to the pavement; now inclining to the left, sideways, till her head rested on the man’s shoulder; and now to the right, stretched and strained, till the pain of it awoke her and she sat bolt upright. Whereupon the dropping forward would begin again and go through its cycle till she was aroused by the strain and stretch.
Every little while boys and young men stopped long enough to go behind the bench and give vent84 to sudden and fiendish shouts. This always jerked the man and woman abruptly85 from their sleep; and at sight of the startled woe86 upon their faces the crowd would roar with laughter as it flooded past.
This was the most striking thing, the general heartlessness exhibited on every hand. It is a commonplace, the homeless on the benches, the poor miserable87 folk who may be teased and are harmless. Fifty thousand people must have passed the bench while I sat upon it, and not one, on such a jubilee occasion as the crowning of the King, felt his heart-strings touched sufficiently88 to come up and say to the woman: “Here’s sixpence; go and get a bed.” But the women, especially the young women, made witty89 remarks upon the woman nodding, and invariably set their companions laughing.
To use a Briticism, it was “cruel”; the corresponding Americanism was more appropriate — it was “fierce.” I confess I began to grow incensed90 at this happy crowd streaming by, and to extract a sort of satisfaction from the London statistics which demonstrate that one in every four adults is destined91 to die on public charity, either in the workhouse, the infirmary, or the asylum92.
I talked with the man. He was fifty-four and a broken-down docker. He could only find odd work when there was a large demand for labour, for the younger and stronger men were preferred when times were slack. He had spent a week, now, on the benches of the Embankment; but things looked brighter for next week, and he might possibly get in a few days’ work and have a bed in some doss-house. He had lived all his life in London, save for five years, when, in 1878, he saw foreign service in India.
Of course he would eat; so would the girl. Days like this were uncommon93 hard on such as they, though the coppers were so busy poor folk could get in more sleep. I awoke the girl, or woman, rather, for she was “Eyght an’ twenty, sir,” and we started for a coffee-house.
“Wot a lot o’ work puttin’ up the lights,” said the man at sight of some building superbly illuminated. This was the keynote of his being. All his fife he had worked, and the whole objective universe, as well as his own soul, he could express in terms only of work. “Coronations is some good,” he went on. “They give work to men.”
“But your belly94 is empty,” I said.
“Yes,” he answered. “I tried, but there wasn’t any chawnce. My age is against me. Wot do you work at? Seafarin’ chap, eh? I knew it from yer clothes.”
“I know wot you are,” said the girl, “an Eyetalian.”
“No ’e ayn’t,” the man cried heatedly. “’E’s a Yank, that’s wot ’e is. I know.”
“Lord lumne, look a’ that,” she exclaimed, as we debauched upon the Strand95, choked with the roaring, reeling Coronation crowd, the men bellowing96 and the girls singing in high throaty notes:—
“Oh! on Coronation D’y, on Coronation D’y,
We’ll ’ave a spree, a jubilee, an’ shout ’Ip, ’ip, ’ooray;
For we’ll all be merry, drinkin’ whisky, wine, and sherry,
We’ll all be merry on Coronation D’y.”
“’Ow dirty I am, bein’ around the w’y I ’ave,” the woman said, as she sat down in a coffee-house, wiping the sleep and grime from the corners of her eyes. “An’ the sights I ’ave seen this d’y, an’ I enjoyed it, though it was lonesome by myself. An’ the duchesses an’ the lydies ’ad sich gran’ w’ite dresses. They was jest bu’ful, bu’ful.”
“I’m Irish,” she said, in answer to a question. “My nyme’s Eyethorne.”
“What?” I asked.
“Eyethorne, sir; Eyethorne.”
“Spell it.”
“H-a-y-t-h-o-r-n-e, Eyethorne.’
“Oh,” I said, “Irish Cockney.”
“Yes, sir, London-born.”
She had lived happily at home till her father died, killed in an accident, when she had found herself on the world. One brother was in the army, and the other brother, engaged in keeping a wife and eight children on twenty shillings a week and unsteady employment, could do nothing for her. She had been out of London once in her life, to a place in Essex, twelve miles away, where she had picked fruit for three weeks: “An’ I was as brown as a berry w’en I come back. You won’t b’lieve it, but I was.”
The last place in which she had worked was a coffee-house, hours from seven in the morning till eleven at night, and for which she had received five shillings a week and her food. Then she had fallen sick, and since emerging from the hospital had been unable to find anything to do. She wasn’t feeling up to much, and the last two nights had been spent in the street.
Between them they stowed away a prodigious97 amount of food, this man and woman, and it was not till I had duplicated and triplicated their original orders that they showed signs of easing down.
Once she reached across and felt the texture98 of my coat and shirt, and remarked upon the good clothes the Yanks wore. My rags good clothes! It put me to the blush; but, on inspecting them more closely and on examining the clothes worn by the man and woman, I began to feel quite well dressed and respectable.
“What do you expect to do in the end?” I asked them. “You know you’re growing older every day.”
“Work’ouse,” said he.
“Gawd blimey if I do,” said she. “There’s no ’ope for me, I know, but I’ll die on the streets. No work’ouse for me, thank you. No, indeed,” she sniffed99 in the silence that fell.
“After you have been out all night in the streets,” I asked, “what do you do in the morning for something to eat?”
“Try to get a penny, if you ’aven’t one saved over,” the man explained. “Then go to a coffee-’ouse an’ get a mug o’ tea.”
“But I don’t see how that is to feed you,” I objected.
The pair smiled knowingly.
“You drink your tea in little sips,” he went on, “making it last its longest. An’ you look sharp, an’ there’s some as leaves a bit be’ind ’em.”
“It’s s’prisin’, the food wot some people leaves,” the woman broke in.
“The thing,” said the man judicially100, as the trick dawned upon me, “is to get ’old o’ the penny.”
As we started to leave, Miss Haythorne gathered up a couple of crusts from the neighbouring tables and thrust them somewhere into her rags.
“Cawn’t wyste ’em, you know,” said she; to which the docker nodded, tucking away a couple of crusts himself.
At three in the morning I strolled up the Embankment. It was a gala night for the homeless, for the police were elsewhere; and each bench was jammed with sleeping occupants. There were as many women as men, and the great majority of them, male and female, were old. Occasionally a boy was to be seen. On one bench I noticed a family, a man sitting upright with a sleeping babe in his arms, his wife asleep, her head on his shoulder, and in her lap the head of a sleeping youngster. The man’s eyes were wide open. He was staring out over the water and thinking, which is not a good thing for a shelterless man with a family to do. It would not be a pleasant thing to speculate upon his thoughts; but this I know, and all London knows, that the cases of out-of-works killing101 their wives and babies is not an uncommon happening.
One cannot walk along the Thames Embankment, in the small hours of morning, from the Houses of Parliament, past Cleopatra’s Needle, to Waterloo Bridge, without being reminded of the sufferings, seven and twenty centuries old, recited by the author of “Job”:—
There are that remove the landmarks102; they violently take away flocks and feed them.
They drive away the ass13 of the fatherless, they take the widow’s ox for a pledge.
They turn the needy103 out of the way; the poor of the earth hide themselves together.
Behold104, as wild asses in the desert they go forth105 to their work, seeking diligently106 for meat; the wilderness107 yieldeth them food for their children.
They cut their provender108 in the field, and they glean109 the vintage of the wicked.
They lie all night naked without clothing, and have no covering in the cold.
They are wet with the showers of the mountains, and embrace the rock for want of a shelter.
There are that pluck the fatherless from the breast, and take a pledge of the poor.
So that they go about naked without clothing, and being an hungered they carry the sheaves. — Job xxiv. 2–10.
Seven and twenty centuries agone! And it is all as true and apposite today in the innermost centre of this Christian110 civilisation111 whereof Edward VII. is king.
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1
sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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royalties
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| 特许权使用费 | |
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intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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socialists
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| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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buttressed
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| v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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wield
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| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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toils
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toiler
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lodgings
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strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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dwarf
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dwelling
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reign
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bakers
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asses
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yoke
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chastise
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chastised
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scorpions
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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40
fanfare
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| n.喇叭；号角之声；v.热闹地宣布 | |
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41
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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42
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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43
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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44
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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45
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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46
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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47
iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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48
orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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49
garbs
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| vt.装扮（garb的第三人称单数形式） | |
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50
lackeys
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| n.听差( lackey的名词复数 )；男仆（通常穿制服）；卑躬屈膝的人；被待为奴仆的人 | |
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51
militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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52
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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53
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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54
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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55
natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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56
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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58
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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59
panoply
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| n.全副甲胄，礼服 | |
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60
contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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61
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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62
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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67
debauch
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| v.使堕落，放纵 | |
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68
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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auxiliaries
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| n.助动词 ( auxiliary的名词复数 )；辅助工，辅助人员 | |
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carouse
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| v.狂欢；痛饮；n.狂饮的宴会 | |
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71
coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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72
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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73
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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76
abounded
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| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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79
sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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81
shunning
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的现在分词 ) | |
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82
riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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83
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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84
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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86
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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89
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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90
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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91
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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92
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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98
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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99
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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100
judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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101
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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102
landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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103
needy
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| adj.贫穷的，贫困的，生活艰苦的 | |
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104
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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105
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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106
diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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107
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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108
provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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109
glean
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| v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
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110
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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111
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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