I never was in Robinson Crusoe’s Island, yet I frequently return there. The colony he established on it soon faded away, and it is uninhabited by any descendants of the grave and courteous4 Spaniards, or of Will Atkins and the other mutineers, and has relapsed into its original condition. Not a twig5 of its wicker houses remains6, its goats have long run wild again, its screaming parrots would darken the sun with a cloud of many flaming colours if a gun were fired there, no face is ever reflected in the waters of the little creek7 which Friday swam across when pursued by his two brother cannibals with sharpened stomachs. After comparing notes with other travellers who have similarly revisited the Island and conscientiously8 inspected it, I have satisfied myself that it contains no vestige9 of Mr. Atkins’s domesticity or theology, though his track on the memorable10 evening of his landing to set his captain ashore11, when he was decoyed about and round about until it was dark, and his boat was stove, and his strength and spirits failed him, is yet plainly to be traced. So is the hill-top on which Robinson was struck dumb with joy when the reinstated captain pointed12 to the ship, riding within half a mile of the shore, that was to bear him away, in the nine-and-twentieth year of his seclusion13 in that lonely place. So is the sandy beach on which the memorable footstep was impressed, and where the savages14 hauled up their canoes when they came ashore for those dreadful public dinners, which led to a dancing worse than speech-making. So is the cave where the flaring15 eyes of the old goat made such a goblin appearance in the dark. So is the site of the hut where Robinson lived with the dog and the parrot and the cat, and where he endured those first agonies of solitude16, which — strange to say — never involved any ghostly fancies; a circumstance so very remarkable17, that perhaps he left out something in writing his record? Round hundreds of such objects, hidden in the dense18 tropical foliage19, the tropical sea breaks evermore; and over them the tropical sky, saving in the short rainy season, shines bright and cloudless.
Neither, was I ever belated among wolves, on the borders of France and Spain; nor, did I ever, when night was closing in and the ground was covered with snow, draw up my little company among some felled trees which served as a breastwork, and there fire a train of gunpowder20 so dexterously21 that suddenly we had three or four score blazing wolves illuminating22 the darkness around us. Nevertheless, I occasionally go back to that dismal23 region and perform the feat24 again; when indeed to smell the singeing25 and the frying of the wolves afire, and to see them setting one another alight as they rush and tumble, and to behold26 them rolling in the snow vainly attempting to put themselves out, and to hear their howlings taken up by all the echoes as well as by all the unseen wolves within the woods, makes me tremble.
I was never in the robbers’ cave, where Gil Blas lived, but I often go back there and find the trap-door just as heavy to raise as it used to be, while that wicked old disabled Black lies everlastingly27 cursing in bed. I was never in Don Quixote’s study, where he read his books of chivalry28 until he rose and hacked29 at imaginary giants, and then refreshed himself with great draughts30 of water, yet you couldn’t move a book in it without my knowledge, or with my consent. I was never (thank Heaven) in company with the little old woman who hobbled out of the chest and told the merchant Abudah to go in search of the Talisman31 of Oromanes, yet I make it my business to know that she is well preserved and as intolerable as ever. I was never at the school where the boy Horatio Nelson got out of bed to steal the pears: not because he wanted any, but because every other boy was afraid: yet I have several times been back to this Academy, to see him let down out of window with a sheet. So with Damascus, and Bagdad, and Brobingnag (which has the curious fate of being usually misspelt when written), and Lilliput, and Laputa, and the Nile, and Abyssinia, and the Ganges, and the North Pole, and many hundreds of places — I was never at them, yet it is an affair of my life to keep them intact, and I am always going back to them.
But, when I was in Dullborough one day, revisiting the associations of my childhood as recorded in previous pages of these notes, my experience in this wise was made quite inconsiderable and of no account, by the quantity of places and people — utterly32 impossible places and people, but none the less alarmingly real — that I found I had been introduced to by my nurse before I was six years old, and used to be forced to go back to at night without at all wanting to go. If we all knew our own minds (in a more enlarged sense than the popular acceptation of that phrase), I suspect we should find our nurses responsible for most of the dark corners we are forced to go back to, against our wills.
The first diabolical33 character who intruded34 himself on my peaceful youth (as I called to mind that day at Dullborough), was a certain Captain Murderer. This wretch35 must have been an off-shoot of the Blue Beard family, but I had no suspicion of the consanguinity36 in those times. His warning name would seem to have awakened37 no general prejudice against him, for he was admitted into the best society and possessed38 immense wealth. Captain Murderer’s mission was matrimony, and the gratification of a cannibal appetite with tender brides. On his marriage morning, he always caused both sides of the way to church to be planted with curious flowers; and when his bride said, ‘Dear Captain Murderer, I ever saw flowers like these before: what are they called?’ he answered, ‘They are called Garnish39 for house-lamb,’ and laughed at his ferocious40 practical joke in a horrid41 manner, disquieting42 the minds of the noble bridal company, with a very sharp show of teeth, then displayed for the first time. He made love in a coach and six, and married in a coach and twelve, and all his horses were milk-white horses with one red spot on the back which he caused to be hidden by the harness. For, the spot WOULD come there, though every horse was milk-white when Captain Murderer bought him. And the spot was young bride’s blood. (To this terrific point I am indebted for my first personal experience of a shudder43 and cold beads44 on the forehead.) When Captain Murderer had made an end of feasting and revelry, and had dismissed the noble guests, and was alone with his wife on the day month after their marriage, it was his whimsical custom to produce a golden rolling-pin and a silver pie-board. Now, there was this special feature in the Captain’s courtships, that he always asked if the young lady could make pie-crust; and if she couldn’t by nature or education, she was taught. Well. When the bride saw Captain Murderer produce the golden rolling-pin and silver pie-board, she remembered this, and turned up her laced-silk sleeves to make a pie. The Captain brought out a silver pie-dish of immense capacity, and the Captain brought out flour and butter and eggs and all things needful, except the inside of the pie; of materials for the staple45 of the pie itself, the Captain brought out none. Then said the lovely bride, ‘Dear Captain Murderer, what pie is this to be?’ He replied, ‘A meat pie.’ Then said the lovely bride, ‘Dear Captain Murderer, I see no meat.’ The Captain humorously retorted, ‘Look in the glass.’ She looked in the glass, but still she saw no meat, and then the Captain roared with laughter, and suddenly frowning and drawing his sword, bade her roll out the crust. So she rolled out the crust, dropping large tears upon it all the time because he was so cross, and when she had lined the dish with crust and had cut the crust all ready to fit the top, the Captain called out, ‘I see the meat in the glass!’ And the bride looked up at the glass, just in time to see the Captain cutting her head off; and he chopped her in pieces, and peppered her, and salted her, and put her in the pie, and sent it to the baker’s, and ate it all, and picked the bones.
Captain Murderer went on in this way, prospering46 exceedingly, until he came to choose a bride from two twin sisters, and at first didn’t know which to choose. For, though one was fair and the other dark, they were both equally beautiful. But the fair twin loved him, and the dark twin hated him, so he chose the fair one. The dark twin would have prevented the marriage if she could, but she couldn’t; however, on the night before it, much suspecting Captain Murderer, she stole out and climbed his garden wall, and looked in at his window through a chink in the shutter47, and saw him having his teeth filed sharp. Next day she listened all day, and heard him make his joke about the house-lamb. And that day month, he had the paste rolled out, and cut the fair twin’s head off, and chopped her in pieces, and peppered her, and salted her, and put her in the pie, and sent it to the baker’s, and ate it all, and picked the bones.
Now, the dark twin had had her suspicions much increased by the filing of the Captain’s teeth, and again by the house-lamb joke. Putting all things together when he gave out that her sister was dead, she divined the truth, and determined48 to be revenged. So, she went up to Captain Murderer’s house, and knocked at the knocker and pulled at the bell, and when the Captain came to the door, said: ‘Dear Captain Murderer, marry me next, for I always loved you and was jealous of my sister.’ The Captain took it as a compliment, and made a polite answer, and the marriage was quickly arranged. On the night before it, the bride again climbed to his window, and again saw him having his teeth filed sharp. At this sight she laughed such a terrible laugh at the chink in the shutter, that the Captain’s blood curdled49, and he said: ‘I hope nothing has disagreed with me!’ At that, she laughed again, a still more terrible laugh, and the shutter was opened and search made, but she was nimbly gone, and there was no one. Next day they went to church in a coach and twelve, and were married. And that day month, she rolled the pie-crust out, and Captain Murderer cut her head off, and chopped her in pieces, and peppered her, and salted her, and put her in the pie, and sent it to the baker’s, and ate it all, and picked the bones.
But before she began to roll out the paste she had taken a deadly poison of a most awful character, distilled50 from toads’ eyes and spiders’ knees; and Captain Murderer had hardly picked her last bone, when he began to swell51, and to turn blue, and to be all over spots, and to scream. And he went on swelling52 and turning bluer, and being more all over spots and screaming, until he reached from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall; and then, at one o’clock in the morning, he blew up with a loud explosion. At the sound of it, all the milk-white horses in the stables broke their halters and went mad, and then they galloped53 over everybody in Captain Murderer’s house (beginning with the family blacksmith who had filed his teeth) until the whole were dead, and then they galloped away.
Hundreds of times did I hear this legend of Captain Murderer, in my early youth, and added hundreds of times was there a mental compulsion upon me in bed, to peep in at his window as the dark twin peeped, and to revisit his horrible house, and look at him in his blue and spotty and screaming stage, as he reached from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall. The young woman who brought me acquainted with Captain Murderer had a fiendish enjoyment54 of my terrors, and used to begin, I remember — as a sort of introductory overture55 — by clawing the air with both hands, and uttering a long low hollow groan56. So acutely did I suffer from this ceremony in combination with this infernal Captain, that I sometimes used to plead I thought I was hardly strong enough and old enough to hear the story again just yet. But, she never spared me one word of it, and indeed commanded the awful chalice57 to my lips as the only preservative58 known to science against ‘The Black Cat’ — a weird59 and glaring-eyed supernatural Tom, who was reputed to prowl about the world by night, sucking the breath of infancy60, and who was endowed with a special thirst (as I was given to understand) for mine.
This female bard61 — may she have been repaid my debt of obligation to her in the matter of nightmares and perspirations! — reappears in my memory as the daughter of a shipwright62. Her name was Mercy, though she had none on me. There was something of a shipbuilding flavour in the following story. As it always recurs63 to me in a vague association with calomel pills, I believe it to have been reserved for dull nights when I was low with medicine.
There was once a shipwright, and he wrought64 in a Government Yard, and his name was Chips. And his father’s name before him was Chips, and HIS father’s name before HIM was Chips, and they were all Chipses. And Chips the father had sold himself to the Devil for an iron pot and a bushel of tenpenny nails and half a ton of copper65 and a rat that could speak; and Chips the grandfather had sold himself to the Devil for an iron pot and a bushel of tenpenny nails and half a ton of copper and a rat that could speak; and Chips the great-grandfather had disposed of himself in the same direction on the same terms; and the bargain had run in the family for a long, long time. So, one day, when young Chips was at work in the Dock Slip all alone, down in the dark hold of an old Seventy-four that was haled up for repairs, the Devil presented himself, and remarked:
‘A Lemon has pips, And a Yard has ships, And I’ll have Chips!’
(I don’t know why, but this fact of the Devil’s expressing himself in rhyme was peculiarly trying to me.) Chips looked up when he heard the words, and there he saw the Devil with saucer eyes that squinted66 on a terrible great scale, and that struck out sparks of blue fire continually. And whenever he winked67 his eyes, showers of blue sparks came out, and his eyelashes made a clattering68 like flints and steels striking lights. And hanging over one of his arms by the handle was an iron pot, and under that arm was a bushel of tenpenny nails, and under his other arm was half a ton of copper, and sitting on one of his shoulders was a rat that could speak. So, the Devil said again:
‘A Lemon has pips, And a Yard has ships, And I’ll have Chips!’
(The invariable effect of this alarming tautology69 on the part of the Evil Spirit was to deprive me of my senses for some moments.) So, Chips answered never a word, but went on with his work. ‘What are you doing, Chips?’ said the rat that could speak. ‘I am putting in new planks70 where you and your gang have eaten old away,’ said Chips. ‘But we’ll eat them too,’ said the rat that could speak; ‘and we’ll let in the water and drown the crew, and we’ll eat them too.’ Chips, being only a shipwright, and not a Man-of-war’s man, said, ‘You are welcome to it.’ But he couldn’t keep his eyes off the half a ton of copper or the bushel of tenpenny nails; for nails and copper are a shipwright’s sweethearts, and shipwrights71 will run away with them whenever they can. So, the Devil said, ‘I see what you are looking at, Chips. You had better strike the bargain. You know the terms. Your father before you was well acquainted with them, and so were your grandfather and great-grandfather before him.’ Says Chips, ‘I like the copper, and I like the nails, and I don’t mind the pot, but I don’t like the rat.’ Says the Devil, fiercely, ‘You can’t have the metal without him — and HE’S a curiosity. I’m going.’ Chips, afraid of losing the half a ton of copper and the bushel of nails, then said, ‘Give us hold!’ So, he got the copper and the nails and the pot and the rat that could speak, and the Devil vanished. Chips sold the copper, and he sold the nails, and he would have sold the pot; but whenever he offered it for sale, the rat was in it, and the dealers72 dropped it, and would have nothing to say to the bargain. So, Chips resolved to kill the rat, and, being at work in the Yard one day with a great kettle of hot pitch on one side of him and the iron pot with the rat in it on the other, he turned the scalding pitch into the pot, and filled it full. Then, he kept his eye upon it till it cooled and hardened, and then he let it stand for twenty days, and then he heated the pitch again and turned it back into the kettle, and then he sank the pot in water for twenty days more, and then he got the smelters to put it in the furnace for twenty days more, and then they gave it him out, red hot, and looking like red-hot glass instead of iron-yet there was the rat in it, just the same as ever! And the moment it caught his eye, it said with a jeer73:
‘A Lemon has pips, And a Yard has ships, And I’ll have Chips!’
(For this Refrain I had waited since its last appearance, with inexpressible horror, which now culminated74.) Chips now felt certain in his own mind that the rat would stick to him; the rat, answering his thought, said, ‘I will — like pitch!’
Now, as the rat leaped out of the pot when it had spoken, and made off, Chips began to hope that it wouldn’t keep its word. But, a terrible thing happened next day. For, when dinner-time came, and the Dock-bell rang to strike work, he put his rule into the long pocket at the side of his trousers, and there he found a rat — not that rat, but another rat. And in his hat, he found another; and in his pocket-handkerchief, another; and in the sleeves of his coat, when he pulled it on to go to dinner, two more. And from that time he found himself so frightfully intimate with all the rats in the Yard, that they climbed up his legs when he was at work, and sat on his tools while he used them. And they could all speak to one another, and he understood what they said. And they got into his lodging75, and into his bed, and into his teapot, and into his beer, and into his boots. And he was going to be married to a corn-chandler’s daughter; and when he gave her a workbox he had himself made for her, a rat jumped out of it; and when he put his arm round her waist, a rat clung about her; so the marriage was broken off, though the banns were already twice put up — which the parish clerk well remembers, for, as he handed the book to the clergyman for the second time of asking, a large fat rat ran over the leaf. (By this time a special cascade76 of rats was rolling down my back, and the whole of my small listening person was overrun with them. At intervals77 ever since, I have been morbidly78 afraid of my own pocket, lest my exploring hand should find a specimen79 or two of those vermin in it.)
You may believe that all this was very terrible to Chips; but even all this was not the worst. He knew besides, what the rats were doing, wherever they were. So, sometimes he would cry aloud, when he was at his club at night, ‘Oh! Keep the rats out of the convicts’ burying-ground! Don’t let them do that!’ Or, ‘There’s one of them at the cheese down-stairs!’ Or, ‘There’s two of them smelling at the baby in the garret!’ Or, other things of that sort. At last, he was voted mad, and lost his work in the Yard, and could get no other work. But, King George wanted men, so before very long he got pressed for a sailor. And so he was taken off in a boat one evening to his ship, lying at Spithead, ready to sail. And so the first thing he made out in her as he got near her, was the figure-head of the old Seventy-four, where he had seen the Devil. She was called the Argonaut, and they rowed right under the bowsprit where the figure-head of the Argonaut, with a sheepskin in his hand and a blue gown on, was looking out to sea; and sitting staring on his forehead was the rat who could speak, and his exact words were these: ‘Chips ahoy! Old boy! We’ve pretty well eat them too, and we’ll drown the crew, and will eat them too!’ (Here I always became exceedingly faint, and would have asked for water, but that I was speechless.)
The ship was bound for the Indies; and if you don’t know where that is, you ought to it, and angels will never love you. (Here I felt myself an outcast from a future state.) The ship set sail that very night, and she sailed, and sailed, and sailed. Chips’s feelings were dreadful. Nothing ever equalled his terrors. No wonder. At last, one day he asked leave to speak to the Admiral. The Admiral giv’ leave. Chips went down on his knees in the Great State Cabin. ‘Your Honour, unless your Honour, without a moment’s loss of time, makes sail for the nearest shore, this is a doomed80 ship, and her name is the Coffin81!’ ‘Young man, your words are a madman’s words.’ ‘Your Honour no; they are nibbling82 us away.’ ‘They?’ ‘Your Honour, them dreadful rats. Dust and hollowness where solid oak ought to be! Rats nibbling a grave for every man on board! Oh! Does your Honour love your Lady and your pretty children?’ ‘Yes, my man, to be sure.’ ‘Then, for God’s sake, make for the nearest shore, for at this present moment the rats are all stopping in their work, and are all looking straight towards you with bare teeth, and are all saying to one another that you shall never, never, never, never, see your Lady and your children more.’ ‘My poor fellow, you are a case for the doctor. Sentry83, take care of this man!’
So, he was bled and he was blistered84, and he was this and that, for six whole days and nights. So, then he again asked leave to speak to the Admiral. The Admiral giv’ leave. He went down on his knees in the Great State Cabin. ‘Now, Admiral, you must die! You took no warning; you must die! The rats are never wrong in their calculations, and they make out that they’ll be through, at twelve to-night. So, you must die! — With me and all the rest!’ And so at twelve o’clock there was a great leak reported in the ship, and a torrent85 of water rushed in and nothing could stop it, and they all went down, every living soul. And what the rats — being water-rats — left of Chips, at last floated to shore, and sitting on him was an immense overgrown rat, laughing, that dived when the corpse86 touched the beach and never came up. And there was a deal of seaweed on the remains. And if you get thirteen bits of seaweed, and dry them and burn them in the fire, they will go off like in these thirteen words as plain as plain can be:
‘A Lemon has pips, And a Yard has ships, And I’ve got Chips!’
The same female bard — descended87, possibly, from those terrible old Scalds who seem to have existed for the express purpose of addling88 the brains of mankind when they begin to investigate languages — made a standing pretence89 which greatly assisted in forcing me back to a number of hideous90 places that I would by all means have avoided. This pretence was, that all her ghost stories had occurred to her own relations. Politeness towards a meritorious91 family, therefore, forbade my doubting them, and they acquired an air of authentication92 that impaired93 my digestive powers for life. There was a narrative94 concerning an unearthly animal foreboding death, which appeared in the open street to a parlour-maid who ‘went to fetch the beer’ for supper: first (as I now recall it) assuming the likeness95 of a black dog, and gradually rising on its hind-legs and swelling into the semblance96 of some quadruped greatly surpassing a hippopotamus97: which apparition98 — not because I deemed it in the least improbable, but because I felt it to be really too large to bear — I feebly endeavoured to explain away. But, on Mercy’s retorting with wounded dignity that the parlour-maid was her own sister-in-law, I perceived there was no hope, and resigned myself to this zoological phenomenon as one of my many pursuers. There was another narrative describing the apparition of a young woman who came out of a glass-case and haunted another young woman until the other young woman questioned it and elicited99 that its bones (Lord! To think of its being so particular about its bones!) were buried under the glass-case, whereas she required them to be interred100, with every Undertaking101 solemnity up to twenty-four pound ten, in another particular place. This narrative I considered — I had a personal interest in disproving, because we had glass-cases at home, and how, otherwise, was I to be guaranteed from the intrusion of young women requiring ME TO bury them up to twenty-four pound ten, when I had only twopence a week? But my remorseless nurse cut the ground from under my tender feet, by informing me that She was the other young woman; and I couldn’t say ‘I don’t believe you;’ it was not possible.
Such are a few of the uncommercial journeys that I was forced to make, against my will, when I was very young and unreasoning. And really, as to the latter part of them, it is not so very long ago — now I come to think of it — that I was asked to undertake them once again, with a steady countenance102.
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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singeing
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的现在分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿]；烧毛 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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hacked
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| 生气 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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35
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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36
consanguinity
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| n.血缘；亲族 | |
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37
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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garnish
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| n.装饰，添饰，配菜 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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43
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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prospering
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
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shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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curdled
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| v.（使）凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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51
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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chalice
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| n.圣餐杯；金杯毒酒 | |
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preservative
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| n.防腐剂；防腐料；保护料；预防药 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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shipwright
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| n.造船工人 | |
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recurs
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| 再发生，复发( recur的第三人称单数 ) | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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squinted
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| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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tautology
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| n.无谓的重复；恒真命题 | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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shipwrights
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| n.造船者，修船者( shipwright的名词复数 ) | |
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dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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morbidly
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| adv.病态地 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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82
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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84
blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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86
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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87
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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88
addling
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| v.使糊涂( addle的现在分词 )；使混乱；使腐臭；使变质 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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92
authentication
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| 鉴定，认证 | |
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93
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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95
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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96
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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97
hippopotamus
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| n.河马 | |
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98
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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99
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
interred
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| v.埋，葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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102
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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