I can very well remember being taken out to visit some peach-faced creature in a blue sash, and shoes to correspond, whose life I supposed to consist entirely2 of birthdays. Upon seed-cake, sweet wine, and shining presents, that glorified3 young person seemed to me to be exclusively reared. At so early a stage of my travels did I assist at the anniversary of her nativity (and become enamoured of her), that I had not yet acquired the recondite4 knowledge that a birthday is the common property of all who are born, but supposed it to be a special gift bestowed5 by the favouring Heavens on that one distinguished6 infant. There was no other company, and we sat in a shady bower7 — under a table, as my better (or worse) knowledge leads me to believe — and were regaled with saccharine8 substances and liquids, until it was time to part. A bitter powder was administered to me next morning, and I was wretched. On the whole, a pretty accurate foreshadowing of my more mature experiences in such wise!
Then came the time when, inseparable from one’s own birthday, was a certain sense of merit, a consciousness of well-earned distinction. When I regarded my birthday as a graceful10 achievement of my own, a monument of my perseverance11, independence, and good sense, redounding12 greatly to my honour. This was at about the period when Olympia Squires13 became involved in the anniversary. Olympia was most beautiful (of course), and I loved her to that degree, that I used to be obliged to get out of my little bed in the night, expressly to exclaim to Solitude14, ‘O, Olympia Squires!’ Visions of Olympia, clothed entirely in sage-green, from which I infer a defectively15 educated taste on the part of her respected parents, who were necessarily unacquainted with the South Kensington Museum, still arise before me. Truth is sacred, and the visions are crowned by a shining white beaver16 bonnet17, impossibly suggestive of a little feminine postboy. My memory presents a birthday when Olympia and I were taken by an unfeeling relative — some cruel uncle, or the like — to a slow torture called an Orrery. The terrible instrument was set up at the local Theatre, and I had expressed a profane18 wish in the morning that it was a Play: for which a serious aunt had probed my conscience deep, and my pocket deeper, by reclaiming19 a bestowed half-crown. It was a venerable and a shabby Orrery, at least one thousand stars and twenty-five comets behind the age. Nevertheless, it was awful. When the low-spirited gentleman with a wand said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen’ (meaning particularly Olympia and me), ‘the lights are about to be put out, but there is not the slightest cause for alarm,’ it was very alarming. Then the planets and stars began. Sometimes they wouldn’t come on, sometimes they wouldn’t go off, sometimes they had holes in them, and mostly they didn’t seem to be good likenesses. All this time the gentleman with the wand was going on in the dark (tapping away at the heavenly bodies between whiles, like a wearisome woodpecker), about a sphere revolving20 on its own axis21 eight hundred and ninety-seven thousand millions of times — or miles — in two hundred and sixty-three thousand five hundred and twenty-four millions of something elses, until I thought if this was a birthday it were better never to have been born. Olympia, also, became much depressed22, and we both slumbered23 and woke cross, and still the gentleman was going on in the dark — whether up in the stars, or down on the stage, it would have been hard to make out, if it had been worth trying — cyphering away about planes of orbits, to such an infamous24 extent that Olympia, stung to madness, actually kicked me. A pretty birthday spectacle, when the lights were turned up again, and all the schools in the town (including the National, who had come in for nothing, and serve them right, for they were always throwing stones) were discovered with exhausted25 countenances26, screwing their knuckles27 into their eyes, or clutching their heads of hair. A pretty birthday speech when Dr. Sleek28 of the City-Free bobbed up his powdered head in the stage-box, and said that before this assembly dispersed29 he really must beg to express his entire approval of a lecture as improving, as informing, as devoid30 of anything that could call a blush into the cheek of youth, as any it had ever been his lot to hear delivered. A pretty birthday altogether, when Astronomy couldn’t leave poor Small Olympia Squires and me alone, but must put an end to our loves! For, we never got over it; the threadbare Orrery outwore our mutual31 tenderness; the man with the wand was too much for the boy with the bow.
When shall I disconnect the combined smells of oranges, brown paper, and straw, from those other birthdays at school, when the coming hamper32 casts its shadow before, and when a week of social harmony — shall I add of admiring and affectionate popularity — led up to that Institution? What noble sentiments were expressed to me in the days before the hamper, what vows33 of friendship were sworn to me, what exceedingly old knives were given me, what generous avowals of having been in the wrong emanated34 from else obstinate35 spirits once enrolled36 among my enemies! The birthday of the potted game and guava jelly, is still made special to me by the noble conduct of Bully37 Globson. Letters from home had mysteriously inquired whether I should be much surprised and disappointed if among the treasures in the coming hamper I discovered potted game, and guava jelly from the Western Indies. I had mentioned those hints in confidence to a few friends, and had promised to give away, as I now see reason to believe, a handsome covey of partridges potted, and about a hundredweight of guava jelly. It was now that Globson, Bully no more, sought me out in the playground. He was a big fat boy, with a big fat head and a big fat fist, and at the beginning of that Half had raised such a bump on my forehead that I couldn’t get my hat of state on, to go to church. He said that after an interval38 of cool reflection (four months) he now felt this blow to have been an error of judgment39, and that he wished to apologise for the same. Not only that, but holding down his big head between his two big hands in order that I might reach it conveniently, he requested me, as an act of justice which would appease40 his awakened41 conscience, to raise a retributive bump upon it, in the presence of witnesses. This handsome proposal I modestly declined, and he then embraced me, and we walked away conversing42. We conversed43 respecting the West India Islands, and, in the pursuit of knowledge he asked me with much interest whether in the course of my reading I had met with any reliable description of the mode of manufacturing guava jelly; or whether I had ever happened to taste that conserve44, which he had been given to understand was of rare excellence45.
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty; and then with the waning46 months came an ever augmenting47 sense of the dignity of twenty-one. Heaven knows I had nothing to ‘come into,’ save the bare birthday, and yet I esteemed48 it as a great possession. I now and then paved the way to my state of dignity, by beginning a proposition with the casual words, ‘say that a man of twenty-one,’ or by the incidental assumption of a fact that could not sanely49 be disputed, as, ‘for when a fellow comes to be a man of twenty-one.’ I gave a party on the occasion. She was there. It is unnecessary to name Her, more particularly; She was older than I, and had pervaded50 every chink and crevice51 of my mind for three or four years. I had held volumes of Imaginary Conversations with her mother on the subject of our union, and I had written letters more in number than Horace Walpole’s, to that discreet52 woman, soliciting53 her daughter’s hand in marriage. I had never had the remotest intention of sending any of those letters; but to write them, and after a few days tear them up, had been a sublime54 occupation. Sometimes, I had begun ‘Honoured Madam. I think that a lady gifted with those powers of observation which I know you to possess, and endowed with those womanly sympathies with the young and ardent55 which it were more than heresy56 to doubt, can scarcely have failed to discover that I love your adorable daughter, deeply, devotedly57.’ In less buoyant states of mind I had begun, ‘Bear with me, Dear Madam, bear with a daring wretch9 who is about to make a surprising confession58 to you, wholly unanticipated by yourself, and which he beseeches59 you to commit to the flames as soon as you have become aware to what a towering height his mad ambition soars.’ At other times — periods of profound mental depression, when She had gone out to balls where I was not — the draft took the affecting form of a paper to be left on my table after my departure to the confines of the globe. As thus: ‘For Mrs. Onowenever, these lines when the hand that traces them shall be far away. I could not bear the daily torture of hopelessly loving the dear one whom I will not name. Broiling60 on the coast of Africa, or congealing61 on the shores of Greenland, I am far far better there than here.’ (In this sentiment my cooler judgment perceives that the family of the beloved object would have most completely concurred62.) ‘If I ever emerge from obscurity, and my name is ever heralded63 by Fame, it will be for her dear sake. If I ever amass64 Gold, it will be to pour it at her feet. Should I on the other hand become the prey65 of Ravens66 — ‘ I doubt if I ever quite made up my mind what was to be done in that affecting case; I tried ‘then it is better so;’ but not feeling convinced that it would be better so, I vacillated between leaving all else blank, which looked expressive68 and bleak69, or winding70 up with ‘Farewell!’
This fictitious71 correspondence of mine is to blame for the foregoing digression. I was about to pursue the statement that on my twenty-first birthday I gave a party, and She was there. It was a beautiful party. There was not a single animate72 or inanimate object connected with it (except the company and myself) that I had ever seen before. Everything was hired, and the mercenaries in attendance were profound strangers to me. Behind a door, in the crumby part of the night when wine-glasses were to be found in unexpected spots, I spoke73 to Her — spoke out to Her. What passed, I cannot as a man of honour reveal. She was all angelical gentleness, but a word was mentioned — a short and dreadful word of three letters, beginning with a B— which, as I remarked at the moment, ‘scorched my brain.’ She went away soon afterwards, and when the hollow throng74 (though to be sure it was no fault of theirs) dispersed, I issued forth75, with a dissipated scorner, and, as I mentioned expressly to him, ‘sought oblivion.’ It was found, with a dreadful headache in it, but it didn’t last; for, in the shaming light of next day’s noon, I raised my heavy head in bed, looking back to the birthdays behind me, and tracking the circle by which I had got round, after all, to the bitter powder and the wretchedness again.
This reactionary76 powder (taken so largely by the human race I am inclined to regard it as the Universal Medicine once sought for in Laboratories) is capable of being made up in another form for birthday use. Anybody’s long-lost brother will do ill to turn up on a birthday. If I had a long-lost brother I should know beforehand that he would prove a tremendous fraternal failure if he appointed to rush into my arms on my birthday. The first Magic Lantern I ever saw, was secretly and elaborately planned to be the great effect of a very juvenile78 birthday; but it wouldn’t act, and its images were dim. My experience of adult birthday Magic Lanterns may possibly have been unfortunate, but has certainly been similar. I have an illustrative birthday in my eye: a birthday of my friend Flipfield, whose birthdays had long been remarkable79 as social successes. There had been nothing set or formal about them; Flipfield having been accustomed merely to say, two or three days before, ‘Don’t forget to come and dine, old boy, according to custom;’ — I don’t know what he said to the ladies he invited, but I may safely assume it NOT to have been ‘old girl.’ Those were delightful80 gatherings81, and were enjoyed by all participators. In an evil hour, a long-lost brother of Flipfield’s came to light in foreign parts. Where he had been hidden, or what he had been doing, I don’t know, for Flipfield vaguely82 informed me that he had turned up ‘on the banks of the Ganges’ — speaking of him as if he had been washed ashore83. The Long-lost was coming home, and Flipfield made an unfortunate calculation, based on the well-known regularity84 of the P. and O. Steamers, that matters might be so contrived85 as that the Long-lost should appear in the nick of time on his (Flipfield’s) birthday. Delicacy86 commanded that I should repress the gloomy anticipations87 with which my soul became fraught88 when I heard of this plan. The fatal day arrived, and we assembled in force. Mrs. Flipfield senior formed an interesting feature in the group, with a blue-veined miniature of the late Mr. Flipfield round her neck, in an oval, resembling a tart89 from the pastrycook’s: his hair powdered, and the bright buttons on his coat, evidently very like. She was accompanied by Miss Flipfield, the eldest90 of her numerous family, who held her pocket-handkerchief to her bosom91 in a majestic92 manner, and spoke to all of us (none of us had ever seen her before), in pious93 and condoning94 tones, of all the quarrels that had taken place in the family, from her infancy95 — which must have been a long time ago — down to that hour. The Long-lost did not appear. Dinner, half an hour later than usual, was announced, and still no Long-lost. We sat down to table. The knife and fork of the Long-lost made a vacuum in Nature, and when the champagne96 came round for the first time, Flipfield gave him up for the day, and had them removed. It was then that the Long-lost gained the height of his popularity with the company; for my own part, I felt convinced that I loved him dearly. Flipfield’s dinners are perfect, and he is the easiest and best of entertainers. Dinner went on brilliantly, and the more the Long-lost didn’t come, the more comfortable we grew, and the more highly we thought of him. Flipfield’s own man (who has a regard for me) was in the act of struggling with an ignorant stipendiary, to wrest97 from him the wooden leg of a Guinea-fowl which he was pressing on my acceptance, and to substitute a slice of the breast, when a ringing at the door-bell suspended the strife98. I looked round me, and perceived the sudden pallor which I knew my own visage revealed, reflected in the faces of the company. Flipfield hurriedly excused himself, went out, was absent for about a minute or two, and then re-entered with the Long-lost.
I beg to say distinctly that if the stranger had brought Mont Blanc with him, or had come attended by a retinue99 of eternal snows, he could not have chilled the circle to the marrow100 in a more efficient manner. Embodied101 Failure sat enthroned upon the Long-lost’s brow, and pervaded him to his Long-lost boots. In vain Mrs. Flipfield senior, opening her arms, exclaimed, ‘My Tom!’ and pressed his nose against the counterfeit102 presentment of his other parent. In vain Miss Flipfield, in the first transports of this re-union, showed him a dint103 upon her maidenly104 cheek, and asked him if he remembered when he did that with the bellows105? We, the bystanders, were overcome, but overcome by the palpable, undisguisable, utter, and total break-down of the Long-lost. Nothing he could have done would have set him right with us but his instant return to the Ganges. In the very same moments it became established that the feeling was reciprocal, and that the Long-lost detested106 us. When a friend of the family (not myself, upon my honour), wishing to set things going again, asked him, while he partook of soup — asked him with an amiability107 of intention beyond all praise, but with a weakness of execution open to defeat — what kind of river he considered the Ganges, the Long-lost, scowling108 at the friend of the family over his spoon, as one of an abhorrent109 race, replied, ‘Why, a river of water, I suppose,’ and spooned his soup into himself with a malignancy of hand and eye that blighted110 the amiable111 questioner. Not an opinion could be elicited112 from the Long-lost, in unison113 with the sentiments of any individual present. He contradicted Flipfield dead, before he had eaten his salmon114. He had no idea — or affected115 to have no idea — that it was his brother’s birthday, and on the communication of that interesting fact to him, merely wanted to make him out four years older than he was. He was an antipathetical being, with a peculiar116 power and gift of treading on everybody’s tenderest place. They talk in America of a man’s ‘Platform.’ I should describe the Platform of the Long-lost as a Platform composed of other people’s corns, on which he had stumped117 his way, with all his might and main, to his present position. It is needless to add that Flipfield’s great birthday went by the board, and that he was a wreck118 when I pretended at parting to wish him many happy returns of it.
There is another class of birthdays at which I have so frequently assisted, that I may assume such birthdays to be pretty well known to the human race. My friend Mayday’s birthday is an example. The guests have no knowledge of one another except on that one day in the year, and are annually119 terrified for a week by the prospect120 of meeting one another again. There is a fiction among us that we have uncommon121 reasons for being particularly lively and spirited on the occasion, whereas deep despondency is no phrase for the expression of our feelings. But the wonderful feature of the case is, that we are in tacit accordance to avoid the subject — to keep it as far off as possible, as long as possible — and to talk about anything else, rather than the joyful122 event. I may even go so far as to assert that there is a dumb compact among us that we will pretend that it is NOT Mayday’s birthday. A mysterious and gloomy Being, who is said to have gone to school with Mayday, and who is so lank67 and lean that he seriously impugns123 the Dietary of the establishment at which they were jointly124 educated, always leads us, as I may say, to the block, by laying his grisly hand on a decanter and begging us to fill our glasses. The devices and pretences125 that I have seen put in practice to defer126 the fatal moment, and to interpose between this man and his purpose, are innumerable. I have known desperate guests, when they saw the grisly hand approaching the decanter, wildly to begin, without any antecedent whatsoever127, ‘That reminds me — ‘ and to plunge128 into long stories. When at last the hand and the decanter come together, a shudder129, a palpable perceptible shudder, goes round the table. We receive the reminder130 that it is Mayday’s birthday, as if it were the anniversary of some profound disgrace he had undergone, and we sought to comfort him. And when we have drunk Mayday’s health, and wished him many happy returns, we are seized for some moments with a ghastly blitheness131, an unnatural132 levity133, as if we were in the first flushed reaction of having undergone a surgical134 operation.
Birthdays of this species have a public as well as a private phase. My ‘boyhood’s home,’ Dullborough, presents a case in point. An Immortal135 Somebody was wanted in Dullborough, to dimple for a day the stagnant136 face of the waters; he was rather wanted by Dullborough generally, and much wanted by the principal hotel-keeper. The County history was looked up for a locally Immortal Somebody, but the registered Dullborough worthies137 were all Nobodies. In this state of things, it is hardly necessary to record that Dullborough did what every man does when he wants to write a book or deliver a lecture, and is provided with all the materials except a subject. It fell back upon Shakespeare.
No sooner was it resolved to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday in Dullborough, than the popularity of the immortal bard138 became surprising. You might have supposed the first edition of his works to have been published last week, and enthusiastic Dullborough to have got half through them. (I doubt, by the way, whether it had ever done half that, but that is a private opinion.) A young gentleman with a sonnet139, the retention140 of which for two years had enfeebled his mind and undermined his knees, got the sonnet into the Dullborough Warden141, and gained flesh. Portraits of Shakespeare broke out in the bookshop windows, and our principal artist painted a large original portrait in oils for the decoration of the dining-room. It was not in the least like any of the other Portraits, and was exceedingly admired, the head being much swollen142. At the Institution, the Debating Society discussed the new question, Was there sufficient ground for supposing that the Immortal Shakespeare ever stole deer? This was indignantly decided143 by an overwhelming majority in the negative; indeed, there was but one vote on the Poaching side, and that was the vote of the orator77 who had undertaken to advocate it, and who became quite an obnoxious144 character — particularly to the Dullborough ‘roughs,’ who were about as well informed on the matter as most other people. Distinguished speakers were invited down, and very nearly came (but not quite). Subscriptions145 were opened, and committees sat, and it would have been far from a popular measure in the height of the excitement, to have told Dullborough that it wasn’t Stratford-upon-Avon. Yet, after all these preparations, when the great festivity took place, and the portrait, elevated aloft, surveyed the company as if it were in danger of springing a mine of intellect and blowing itself up, it did undoubtedly146 happen, according to the inscrutable mysteries of things, that nobody could be induced, not to say to touch upon Shakespeare, but to come within a mile of him, until the crack speaker of Dullborough rose to propose the immortal memory. Which he did with the perplexing and astonishing result that before he had repeated the great name half-a-dozen times, or had been upon his legs as many minutes, he was assailed147 with a general shout of ‘Question.’
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1
predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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recondite
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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saccharine
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| adj.奉承的，讨好的 | |
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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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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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redounding
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| v.有助益( redound的现在分词 )；及于；报偿；报应 | |
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squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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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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defectively
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| adv.有缺陷地，缺乏地 | |
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beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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reclaiming
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| v.开拓( reclaim的现在分词 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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axis
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| n.轴，轴线，中心线；坐标轴，基准线 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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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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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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conserve
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| vt.保存，保护，节约，节省，守恒，不灭 | |
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45
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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46
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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47
augmenting
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| 使扩张 | |
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48
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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49
sanely
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| ad.神志清楚地 | |
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50
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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52
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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53
soliciting
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| v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
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54
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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55
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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56
heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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57
devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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58
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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59
beseeches
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的第三人称单数 ) | |
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60
broiling
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| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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61
congealing
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的现在分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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62
concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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63
heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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64
amass
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| vt.积累，积聚 | |
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65
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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66
ravens
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| n.低质煤；渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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67
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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68
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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69
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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70
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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71
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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72
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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73
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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74
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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75
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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76
reactionary
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| n.反动者，反动主义者；adj.反动的，反动主义的，反对改革的 | |
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77
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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78
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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79
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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80
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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81
gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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82
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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83
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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84
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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85
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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86
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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87
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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88
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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89
tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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90
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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91
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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93
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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94
condoning
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| v.容忍，宽恕，原谅( condone的现在分词 ) | |
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95
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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96
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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97
wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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98
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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99
retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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100
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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101
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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102
counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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103
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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104
maidenly
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| adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
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105
bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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106
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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108
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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109
abhorrent
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| adj.可恶的，可恨的，讨厌的 | |
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110
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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111
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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112
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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114
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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115
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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116
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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117
stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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118
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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119
annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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120
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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121
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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122
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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123
impugns
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| v.非难，指谪( impugn的第三人称单数 )；对…有怀疑 | |
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124
jointly
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| ad.联合地，共同地 | |
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125
pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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126
defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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127
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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128
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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129
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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130
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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131
blitheness
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| n.blithe（快乐的）的变形 | |
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132
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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133
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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134
surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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135
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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136
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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137
worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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138
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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139
sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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140
retention
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| n.保留，保持，保持力，记忆力 | |
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141
warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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142
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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143
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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144
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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145
subscriptions
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| n.（报刊等的）订阅费( subscription的名词复数 )；捐款；（俱乐部的）会员费；捐助 | |
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146
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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147
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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