Malignant10 Calais! Low-lying alligator11, evading12 the eyesight and discouraging hope! Dodging13 flat streak14, now on this bow, now on that, now anywhere, now everywhere, now nowhere! In vain Cape15 Grinez, coming frankly16 forth17 into the sea, exhorts18 the failing to be stout19 of heart and stomach: sneaking21 Calais, prone22 behind its bar, invites emetically to despair. Even when it can no longer quite conceal23 itself in its muddy dock, it has an evil way of falling off, has Calais, which is more hopeless than its invisibility. The pier24 is all but on the bowsprit, and you think you are there — roll, roar, wash! — Calais has retired25 miles inland, and Dover has burst out to look for it. It has a last dip and slide in its character, has Calais, to be especially commanded to the infernal gods. Thrice accursed be that garrison-town, when it dives under the boat’s keel, and comes up a league or two to the right, with the packet shivering and spluttering and staring about for it!
Not but what I have my animosities towards Dover. I particularly detest26 Dover for the self-complacency with which it goes to bed. It always goes to bed (when I am going to Calais) with a more brilliant display of lamp and candle than any other town. Mr. and Mrs. Birmingham, host and hostess of the Lord Warden27 Hotel, are my much esteemed28 friends, but they are too conceited29 about the comforts of that establishment when the Night Mail is starting. I know it is a good house to stay at, and I don’t want the fact insisted upon in all its warm bright windows at such an hour. I know the Warden is a stationary30 edifice31 that never rolls or pitches, and I object to its big outline seeming to insist upon that circumstance, and, as it were, to come over me with it, when I am reeling on the deck of the boat. Beshrew the Warden likewise, for obstructing32 that corner, and making the wind so angry as it rushes round. Shall I not know that it blows quite soon enough, without the officious Warden’s interference?
As I wait here on board the night packet, for the South-Eastern Train to come down with the Mail, Dover appears to me to be illuminated33 for some intensely aggravating34 festivity in my personal dishonour35. All its noises smack36 of taunting37 praises of the land, and dispraises of the gloomy sea, and of me for going on it. The drums upon the heights have gone to bed, or I know they would rattle38 taunts39 against me for having my unsteady footing on this slippery deck. The many gas eyes of the Marine40 Parade twinkle in an offensive manner, as if with derision. The distant dogs of Dover bark at me in my misshapen wrappers, as if I were Richard the Third.
A screech41, a bell, and two red eyes come gliding42 down the Admiralty Pier with a smoothness of motion rendered more smooth by the heaving of the boat. The sea makes noises against the pier, as if several hippopotami were lapping at it, and were prevented by circumstances over which they had no control from drinking peaceably. We, the boat, become violently agitated43 — rumble44, hum, scream, roar, and establish an immense family washing-day at each paddle-box. Bright patches break out in the train as the doors of the post-office vans are opened, and instantly stooping figures with sacks upon their backs begin to be beheld45 among the piles, descending47 as it would seem in ghostly procession to Davy Jones’s Locker48. The passengers come on board; a few shadowy Frenchmen, with hatboxes shaped like the stoppers of gigantic case-bottles; a few shadowy Germans in immense fur coats and boots; a few shadowy Englishmen prepared for the worst and pretending not to expect it. I cannot disguise from my uncommercial mind the miserable49 fact that we are a body of outcasts; that the attendants on us are as scant50 in number as may serve to get rid of us with the least possible delay; that there are no night-loungers interested in us; that the unwilling51 lamps shiver and shudder52 at us; that the sole object is to commit us to the deep and abandon us. Lo, the two red eyes glaring in increasing distance, and then the very train itself has gone to bed before we are off!
What is the moral support derived53 by some sea-going amateurs from an umbrella? Why do certain voyagers across the Channel always put up that article, and hold it up with a grim and fierce tenacity55? A fellow-creature near me — whom I only know to BE a fellow-creature, because of his umbrella: without which he might be a dark bit of cliff, pier, or bulkbead — clutches that instrument with a desperate grasp, that will not relax until he lands at Calais. Is there any analogy, in certain constitutions, between keeping an umbrella up, and keeping the spirits up? A hawser56 thrown on board with a flop57 replies ‘Stand by!’ ‘Stand by, below!’ ‘Half a turn a head!’ ‘Half a turn a head!’ ‘Half speed!’ ‘Half speed!’ ‘Port!’ ‘Port!’ ‘Steady!’ ‘Steady!’ ‘Go on!’ ‘Go on!’
A stout wooden wedge driven in at my right temple and out at my left, a floating deposit of lukewarm oil in my throat, and a compression of the bridge of my nose in a blunt pair of pincers, — these are the personal sensations by which I know we are off, and by which I shall continue to know it until I am on the soil of France. My symptoms have scarcely established themselves comfortably, when two or three skating shadows that have been trying to walk or stand, get flung together, and other two or three shadows in tarpaulin58 slide with them into corners and cover them up. Then the South Foreland lights begin to hiccup59 at us in a way that bodes60 no good.
It is at about this period that my detestation of Calais knows no bounds. Inwardly I resolve afresh that I never will forgive that hated town. I have done so before, many times, but that is past. Let me register a vow61. Implacable animosity to Calais everm — that was an awkward sea, and the funnel62 seems of my opinion, for it gives a complaining roar.
The wind blows stiffly from the Nor-East, the sea runs high, we ship a deal of water, the night is dark and cold, and the shapeless passengers lie about in melancholy63 bundles, as if they were sorted out for the laundress; but for my own uncommercial part I cannot pretend that I am much inconvenienced by any of these things. A general howling, whistling, flopping64, gurgling, and scooping65, I am aware of, and a general knocking about of Nature; but the impressions I receive are very vague. In a sweet faint temper, something like the smell of damaged oranges, I think I should feel languidly benevolent66 if I had time. I have not time, because I am under a curious compulsion to occupy myself with the Irish melodies. ‘Rich and rare were the gems67 she wore,’ is the particular melody to which I find myself devoted68. I sing it to myself in the most charming manner and with the greatest expression. Now and then, I raise my head (I am sitting on the hardest of wet seats, in the most uncomfortable of wet attitudes, but I don’t mind it,) and notice that I am a whirling shuttlecock between a fiery69 battledore of a lighthouse on the French coast and a fiery battledore of a lighthouse on the English coast; but I don’t notice it particularly, except to feel envenomed in my hatred70 of Calais. Then I go on again, ‘Rich and rare were the ge-ems she-e-e-e wore, And a bright gold ring on her wa-and she bo-ore, But O her beauty was fa-a-a-a-r beyond’ — I am particularly proud of my execution here, when I become aware of another awkward shock from the sea, and another protest from the funnel, and a fellow-creature at the paddle-box more audibly indisposed than I think he need be — ‘Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand, But O her beauty was fa-a-a-a-a-r beyond’ — another awkward one here, and the fellow-creature with the umbrella down and picked up — ‘Her spa-a-rkling ge-ems, or her Port! port! steady! steady! snow-white fellow-creature at the paddle-box very selfishly audible, bump, roar, wash, white wand.’
As my execution of the Irish melodies partakes of my imperfect perceptions of what is going on around me, so what is going on around me becomes something else than what it is. The stokers open the furnace doors below, to feed the fires, and I am again on the box of the old Exeter Telegraph fast coach, and that is the light of the for ever extinguished coach-lamps, and the gleam on the hatches and paddle-boxes is THEIR gleam on cottages and haystacks, and the monotonous71 noise of the engines is the steady jingle72 of the splendid team. Anon, the intermittent73 funnel roar of protest at every violent roll, becomes the regular blast of a high pressure engine, and I recognise the exceedingly explosive steamer in which I ascended74 the Mississippi when the American civil war was not, and when only its causes were. A fragment of mast on which the light of a lantern falls, an end of rope, and a jerking block or so, become suggestive of Franconi’s Circus at Paris where I shall be this very night mayhap (for it must be morning now), and they dance to the self-same time and tune76 as the trained steed, Black Raven77. What may be the speciality of these waves as they come rushing on, I cannot desert the pressing demands made upon me by the gems she wore, to inquire, but they are charged with something about Robinson Crusoe, and I think it was in Yarmouth Roads that he first went a seafaring and was near foundering78 (what a terrific sound that word had for me when I was a boy!) in his first gale79 of wind. Still, through all this, I must ask her (who WAS she I wonder!) for the fiftieth time, and without ever stopping, Does she not fear to stray, So lone80 and lovely through this bleak81 way, And are Erin’s sons so good or so cold, As not to be tempted82 by more fellow-creatures at the paddle-box or gold? Sir Knight83 I feel not the least alarm, No son of Erin will offer me harm, For though they love fellow-creature with umbrella down again and golden store, Sir Knight they what a tremendous one love honour and virtue84 more: For though they love Stewards86 with a bull’s eye bright, they’ll trouble you for your ticket, sir-rough passage to-night!
I freely admit it to be a miserable piece of human weakness and inconsistency, but I no sooner become conscious of those last words from the steward85 than I begin to soften87 towards Calais. Whereas I have been vindictively88 wishing that those Calais burghers who came out of their town by a short cut into the History of England, with those fatal ropes round their necks by which they have since been towed into so many cartoons, had all been hanged on the spot, I now begin to regard them as highly respectable and virtuous89 tradesmen. Looking about me, I see the light of Cape Grinez well astern of the boat on the davits to leeward90, and the light of Calais Harbour undeniably at its old tricks, but still ahead and shining. Sentiments of forgiveness of Calais, not to say of attachment91 to Calais, begin to expand my bosom92. I have weak notions that I will stay there a day or two on my way back. A faded and recumbent stranger pausing in a profound reverie over the rim54 of a basin, asks me what kind of place Calais is? I tell him (Heaven forgive me!) a very agreeable place indeed — rather hilly than otherwise.
So strangely goes the time, and on the whole so quickly — though still I seem to have been on board a week — that I am bumped, rolled, gurgled, washed and pitched into Calais Harbour before her maiden93 smile has finally lighted her through the Green Isle, When blest for ever is she who relied, On entering Calais at the top of the tide. For we have not to land to-night down among those slimy timbers — covered with green hair as if it were the mermaids’ favourite combing-place — where one crawls to the surface of the jetty, like a stranded94 shrimp95, but we go steaming up the harbour to the Railway Station Quay96. And as we go, the sea washes in and out among piles and planks97, with dead heavy beats and in quite a furious manner (whereof we are proud), and the lamps shake in the wind, and the bells of Calais striking One seem to send their vibrations98 struggling against troubled air, as we have come struggling against troubled water. And now, in the sudden relief and wiping of faces, everybody on board seems to have had a prodigious99 double-tooth out, and to be this very instant free of the Dentist’s hands. And now we all know for the first time how wet and cold we are, and how salt we are; and now I love Calais with my heart of hearts!
‘Hotel Dessin!’ (but in this one case it is not a vocal100 cry; it is but a bright lustre101 in the eyes of the cheery representative of that best of inns). ‘Hotel Meurice!’ ‘Hotel de France!’ ‘Hotel de Calais!’ ‘The Royal Hotel, Sir, Angaishe ouse!’ ‘You going to Parry, Sir?’ ‘Your baggage, registair froo, Sir?’ Bless ye, my Touters, bless ye, my commissionaires, bless ye, my hungry-eyed mysteries in caps of a military form, who are always here, day or night, fair weather or foul102, seeking inscrutable jobs which I never see you get! Bless ye, my Custom House officers in green and grey; permit me to grasp the welcome hands that descend46 into my travelling-bag, one on each side, and meet at the bottom to give my change of linen103 a peculiar104 shake up, as if it were a measure of chaff105 or grain! I have nothing to declare, Monsieur le Douanier, except that when I cease to breathe, Calais will be found written on my heart. No article liable to local duty have I with me, Monsieur l’Officier de l’Octroi, unless the overflowing106 of a breast devoted to your charming town should be in that wise chargeable. Ah! see at the gangway by the twinkling lantern, my dearest brother and friend, he once of the Passport Office, he who collects the names! May he be for ever changeless in his buttoned black surtout, with his note-book in his hand, and his tall black hat, surmounting107 his round, smiling, patient face! Let us embrace, my dearest brother. I am yours e tout20 jamais — for the whole of ever.
Calais up and doing at the railway station, and Calais down and dreaming in its bed; Calais with something of ‘an ancient and fish-like smell’ about it, and Calais blown and sea-washed pure; Calais represented at the Buffet108 by savoury roast fowls109, hot coffee, cognac, and Bordeaux; and Calais represented everywhere by flitting persons with a monomania for changing money — though I never shall be able to understand in my present state of existence how they live by it, but I suppose I should, if I understood the currency question — Calais EN GROS, and Calais EN DETAIL, forgive one who has deeply wronged you. — I was not fully110 aware of it on the other side, but I meant Dover.
Ding, ding! To the carriages, gentlemen the travellers. Ascend75 then, gentlemen the travellers, for Hazebroucke, Lille, Douai, Bruxelles, Arras, Amiens, and Paris! I, humble111 representative of the uncommercial interest, ascend with the rest. The train is light to-night, and I share my compartment112 with but two fellow-travellers; one, a compatriot in an obsolete113 cravat114, who thinks it a quite unaccountable thing that they don’t keep ‘London time’ on a French railway, and who is made angry by my modestly suggesting the possibility of Paris time being more in their way; the other, a young priest, with a very small bird in a very small cage, who feeds the small bird with a quill115, and then puts him up in the network above his head, where he advances twittering, to his front wires, and seems to address me in an electioneering manner. The compatriot (who crossed in the boat, and whom I judge to be some person of distinction, as he was shut up, like a stately species of rabbit, in a private hutch on deck) and the young priest (who joined us at Calais) are soon asleep, and then the bird and I have it all to ourselves.
A stormy night still; a night that sweeps the wires of the electric telegraph with a wild and fitful hand; a night so very stormy, with the added storm of the train-progress through it, that when the Guard comes clambering round to mark the tickets while we are at full speed (a really horrible performance in an express train, though he holds on to the open window by his elbows in the most deliberate manner), he stands in such a whirlwind that I grip him fast by the collar, and feel it next to manslaughter to let him go. Still, when he is gone, the small, small bird remains116 at his front wires feebly twittering to me — twittering and twittering, until, leaning back in my place and looking at him in drowsy117 fascination118, I find that he seems to jog my memory as we rush along.
Uncommercial travels (thus the small, small bird) have lain in their idle thriftless way through all this range of swamp and dyke119, as through many other odd places; and about here, as you very well know, are the queer old stone farm-houses, approached by drawbridges, and the windmills that you get at by boats. Here, are the lands where the women hoe and dig, paddling canoe-wise from field to field, and here are the cabarets and other peasant-houses where the stone dove-cotes in the littered yards are as strong as warders’ towers in old castles. Here, are the long monotonous miles of canal, with the great Dutch-built barges120 garishly121 painted, and the towing girls, sometimes harnessed by the forehead, sometimes by the girdle and the shoulders, not a pleasant sight to see. Scattered122 through this country are mighty123 works of VAUBAN, whom you know about, and regiments124 of such corporals as you heard of once upon a time, and many a blue-eyed Bebelle. Through these flat districts, in the shining summer days, walk those long, grotesque125 files of young novices126 in enormous shovel-hats, whom you remember blackening the ground checkered127 by the avenues of leafy trees. And now that Hazebroucke slumbers128 certain kilometres ahead, recall the summer evening when your dusty feet strolling up from the station tended hap-hazard to a Fair there, where the oldest inhabitants were circling round and round a barrel-organ on hobby-horses, with the greatest gravity, and where the principal show in the Fair was a Religious Richardson’s — literally129, on its own announcement in great letters, THEATRE RELIGIEUX. In which improving Temple, the dramatic representation was of ‘all the interesting events in the life of our Lord, from the Manger to the Tomb;’ the principal female character, without any reservation or exception, being at the moment of your arrival, engaged in trimming the external Moderators (as it was growing dusk), while the next principal female character took the money, and the Young Saint John disported130 himself upside down on the platform.
Looking up at this point to confirm the small, small bird in every particular he has mentioned, I find he has ceased to twitter, and has put his head under his wing. Therefore, in my different way I follow the good example.
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1
malediction
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| n.诅咒 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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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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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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alligator
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| n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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evading
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| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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exhorts
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| n.劝勉者，告诫者，提倡者( exhort的名词复数 )v.劝告，劝说( exhort的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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obstructing
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| 阻塞( obstruct的现在分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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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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screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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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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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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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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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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51
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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53
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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56
hawser
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| n.大缆；大索 | |
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57
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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58
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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59
hiccup
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| n.打嗝 | |
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60
bodes
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| v.预示，预告，预言( bode的第三人称单数 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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61
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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62
funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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63
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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64
flopping
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| n.贬调v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的现在分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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65
scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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66
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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67
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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68
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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69
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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70
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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71
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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72
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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73
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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74
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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76
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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77
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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78
foundering
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| v.创始人( founder的现在分词 ) | |
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79
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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80
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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81
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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82
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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83
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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84
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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85
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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86
stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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87
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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88
vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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89
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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90
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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91
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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92
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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93
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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94
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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95
shrimp
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| n.虾，小虾；矮小的人 | |
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96
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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97
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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98
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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99
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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100
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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101
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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102
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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103
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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104
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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105
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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106
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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107
surmounting
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| 战胜( surmount的现在分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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108
buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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109
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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110
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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111
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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112
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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113
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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114
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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115
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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116
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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117
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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118
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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119
dyke
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| n.堤，水坝，排水沟 | |
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120
barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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121
garishly
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| adv.鲜艳夺目地，俗不可耐地；华丽地 | |
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122
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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123
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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124
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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125
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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126
novices
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| n.新手( novice的名词复数 )；初学修士（或修女）；（修会等的）初学生；尚未赢过大赛的赛马 | |
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127
checkered
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| adj.有方格图案的 | |
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128
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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129
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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130
disported
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| v.嬉戏，玩乐，自娱( disport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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