Why none of the people who reside in these places ever look out of window, or take an airing in the piece of ground which is going to be a garden by-and-by, is one of the wonders I have added to my always-lengthening list of the wonders of the world. I have got it into my mind that they live in a state of chronic12 injury and resentment13, and on that account refuse to decorate the building with a human interest. As I have known legatees deeply injured by a bequest14 of five hundred pounds because it was not five thousand, and as I was once acquainted with a pensioner16 on the Public to the extent of two hundred a year, who perpetually anathematised his Country because he was not in the receipt of four, having no claim whatever to sixpence: so perhaps it usually happens, within certain limits, that to get a little help is to get a notion of being defrauded17 of more. ‘How do they pass their lives in this beautiful and peaceful place!’ was the subject of my speculation18 with a visitor who once accompanied me to a charming rustic19 retreat for old men and women: a quaint15 ancient foundation in a pleasant English country, behind a picturesque20 church and among rich old convent gardens. There were but some dozen or so of houses, and we agreed that we would talk with the inhabitants, as they sat in their groined rooms between the light of their fires and the light shining in at their latticed windows, and would find out. They passed their lives in considering themselves mulcted of certain ounces of tea by a deaf old steward21 who lived among them in the quadrangle. There was no reason to suppose that any such ounces of tea had ever been in existence, or that the old steward so much as knew what was the matter; — he passed HIS life in considering himself periodically defrauded of a birch-broom by the beadle.
But it is neither to old Alms-Houses in the country, nor to new Alms-Houses by the railroad, that these present Uncommercial notes relate. They refer back to journeys made among those common-place, smoky-fronted London Alms-Houses, with a little paved court-yard in front enclosed by iron railings, which have got snowed up, as it were, by bricks and mortar22; which were once in a suburb, but are now in the densely23 populated town; gaps in the busy life around them, parentheses24 in the close and blotted25 texts of the streets.
Sometimes, these Alms-Houses belong to a Company or Society. Sometimes, they were established by individuals, and are maintained out of private funds bequeathed in perpetuity long ago. My favourite among them is Titbull’s, which establishment is a picture of many. Of Titbull I know no more than that he deceased in 1723, that his Christian26 name was Sampson, and his social designation Esquire, and that he founded these Alms-Houses as Dwellings27 for Nine Poor Women and Six Poor Men by his Will and Testament29. I should not know even this much, but for its being inscribed30 on a grim stone very difficult to read, let into the front of the centre house of Titbull’s Alms-Houses, and which stone is ornamented31 a-top with a piece of sculptured drapery resembling the effigy32 of Titbull’s bath-towel.
Titbull’s Alms-Houses are in the east of London, in a great highway, in a poor, busy, and thronged33 neighbourhood. Old iron and fried fish, cough drops and artificial flowers, boiled pigs’-feet and household furniture that looks as if it were polished up with lip-salve, umbrellas full of vocal34 literature and saucers full of shell-fish in a green juice which I hope is natural to them when their health is good, garnish35 the paved sideways as you go to Titbull’s. I take the ground to have risen in those parts since Titbull’s time, and you drop into his domain36 by three stone steps. So did I first drop into it, very nearly striking my brows against Titbull’s pump, which stands with its back to the thoroughfare just inside the gate, and has a conceited37 air of reviewing Titbull’s pensioners38.
‘And a worse one,’ said a virulent39 old man with a pitcher40, ‘there isn’t nowhere. A harder one to work, nor a grudginer one to yield, there isn’t nowhere!’ This old man wore a long coat, such as we see Hogarth’s Chairmen represented with, and it was of that peculiar41 green-pea hue42 without the green, which seems to come of poverty. It had also that peculiar smell of cupboard which seems to come of poverty.
‘The pump is rusty43, perhaps,’ said I.
‘Not IT,’ said the old man, regarding it with undiluted virulence44 in his watery45 eye. ‘It never were fit to be termed a pump. That’s what’s the matter with IT.’
‘Whose fault is that?’ said I.
The old man, who had a working mouth which seemed to be trying to masticate46 his anger and to find that it was too hard and there was too much of it, replied, ‘Them gentlemen.’
‘What gentlemen?’
‘Maybe you’re one of ’em?’ said the old man, suspiciously.
‘The trustees?’
‘I wouldn’t trust ’em myself,’ said the virulent old man.
‘If you mean the gentlemen who administer this place, no, I am not one of them; nor have I ever so much as heard of them.’
‘I wish I never heard of them,’ gasped47 the old man: ‘at my time of life — with the rheumatics — drawing water-from that thing!’ Not to be deluded48 into calling it a Pump, the old man gave it another virulent look, took up his pitcher, and carried it into a corner dwelling28-house, shutting the door after him.
Looking around and seeing that each little house was a house of two little rooms; and seeing that the little oblong court-yard in front was like a graveyard49 for the inhabitants, saving that no word was engraven on its flat dry stones; and seeing that the currents of life and noise ran to and fro outside, having no more to do with the place than if it were a sort of low-water mark on a lively beach; I say, seeing this and nothing else, I was going out at the gate when one of the doors opened.
‘Was you looking for anything, sir?’ asked a tidy, well-favoured woman.
Really, no; I couldn’t say I was.
‘Not wanting any one, sir?’
‘No — at least I— pray what is the name of the elderly gentleman who lives in the corner there?’
The tidy woman stepped out to be sure of the door I indicated, and she and the pump and I stood all three in a row with our backs to the thoroughfare.
‘Oh! HIS name is Mr. Battens,’ said the tidy woman, dropping her voice.
‘I have just been talking with him.’
‘Indeed?’ said the tidy woman. ‘Ho! I wonder Mr. Battens talked!’
‘Is he usually so silent?’
‘Well, Mr. Battens is the oldest here — that is to say, the oldest of the old gentlemen — in point of residence.’
She had a way of passing her hands over and under one another as she spoke50, that was not only tidy but propitiatory51; so I asked her if I might look at her little sitting-room52? She willingly replied Yes, and we went into it together: she leaving the door open, with an eye as I understood to the social proprieties53. The door opening at once into the room without any intervening entry, even scandal must have been silenced by the precaution.
It was a gloomy little chamber54, but clean, and with a mug of wallflower in the window. On the chimney-piece were two peacock’s feathers, a carved ship, a few shells, and a black profile with one eyelash; whether this portrait purported55 to be male or female passed my comprehension, until my hostess informed me that it was her only son, and ‘quite a speaking one.’
‘He is alive, I hope?’
‘No, sir,’ said the widow, ‘he were cast away in China.’ This was said with a modest sense of its reflecting a certain geographical56 distinction on his mother.
‘If the old gentlemen here are not given to talking,’ said I, ‘I hope the old ladies are? — not that you are one.’
She shook her head. ‘You see they get so cross.’
‘How is that?’
‘Well, whether the gentlemen really do deprive us of any little matters which ought to be ours by rights, I cannot say for certain; but the opinion of the old ones is they do. And Mr. Battens he do even go so far as to doubt whether credit is due to the Founder57. For Mr. Battens he do say, anyhow he got his name up by it and he done it cheap.’
‘I am afraid the pump has soured Mr. Battens.’
‘It may be so,’ returned the tidy widow, ‘but the handle does go very hard. Still, what I say to myself is, the gentlemen MAY not pocket the difference between a good pump and a bad one, and I would wish to think well of them. And the dwellings,’ said my hostess, glancing round her room; ‘perhaps they were convenient dwellings in the Founder’s time, considered AS his time, and therefore he should not be blamed. But Mrs. Saggers is very hard upon them.’
‘Mrs. Saggers is the oldest here?’
‘The oldest but one. Mrs. Quinch being the oldest, and have totally lost her head.’
‘And you?’
‘I am the youngest in residence, and consequently am not looked up to. But when Mrs. Quinch makes a happy release, there will be one below me. Nor is it to be expected that Mrs. Saggers will prove herself immortal58.’
‘True. Nor Mr. Battens.’
‘Regarding the old gentlemen,’ said my widow slightingly, ‘they count among themselves. They do not count among us. Mr. Battens is that exceptional that he have written to the gentlemen many times and have worked the case against them. Therefore he have took a higher ground. But we do not, as a rule, greatly reckon the old gentlemen.’
Pursuing the subject, I found it to be traditionally settled among the poor ladies that the poor gentlemen, whatever their ages, were all very old indeed, and in a state of dotage59. I also discovered that the juniors and newcomers preserved, for a time, a waning60 disposition61 to believe in Titbull and his trustees, but that as they gained social standing62 they lost this faith, and disparaged63 Titbull and all his works.
Improving my acquaintance subsequently with this respected lady, whose name was Mrs. Mitts64, and occasionally dropping in upon her with a little offering of sound Family Hyson in my pocket, I gradually became familiar with the inner politics and ways of Titbull’s Alms-Houses. But I never could find out who the trustees were, or where they were: it being one of the fixed65 ideas of the place that those authorities must be vaguely66 and mysteriously mentioned as ‘the gentlemen’ only. The secretary of ‘the gentlemen’ was once pointed67 out to me, evidently engaged in championing the obnoxious68 pump against the attacks of the discontented Mr. Battens; but I am not in a condition to report further of him than that he had the sprightly69 bearing of a lawyer’s clerk. I had it from Mrs. Mitts’s lips in a very confidential70 moment, that Mr. Battens was once ‘had up before the gentlemen’ to stand or fall by his accusations71, and that an old shoe was thrown after him on his departure from the building on this dread72 errand; — not ineffectually, for, the interview resulting in a plumber73, was considered to have encircled the temples of Mr. Battens with the wreath of victory,
In Titbull’s Alms-Houses, the local society is not regarded as good society. A gentleman or lady receiving visitors from without, or going out to tea, counts, as it were, accordingly; but visitings or tea-drinkings interchanged among Titbullians do not score. Such interchanges, however, are rare, in consequence of internal dissensions occasioned by Mrs. Saggers’s pail: which household article has split Titbull’s into almost as many parties as there are dwellings in that precinct. The extremely complicated nature of the conflicting articles of belief on the subject prevents my stating them here with my usual perspicuity74, but I think they have all branched off from the root-and-trunk question, Has Mrs. Saggers any right to stand her pail outside her dwelling? The question has been much refined upon, but roughly stated may be stated in those terms.
There are two old men in Titbull’s Alms-Houses who, I have been given to understand, knew each other in the world beyond its pump and iron railings, when they were both ‘in trade.’ They make the best of their reverses, and are looked upon with great contempt. They are little, stooping, blear-eyed old men of cheerful countenance75, and they hobble up and down the court-yard wagging their chins and talking together quite gaily76. This has given offence, and has, moreover, raised the question whether they are justified77 in passing any other windows than their own. Mr. Battens, however, permitting them to pass HIS windows, on the disdainful ground that their imbecility almost amounts to irresponsibility, they are allowed to take their walk in peace. They live next door to one another, and take it by turns to read the newspaper aloud (that is to say, the newest newspaper they can get), and they play cribbage at night. On warm and sunny days they have been known to go so far as to bring out two chairs and sit by the iron railings, looking forth78; but this low conduct, being much remarked upon throughout Titbull’s, they were deterred79 by an outraged80 public opinion from repeating it. There is a rumour81 — but it may be malicious82 — that they hold the memory of Titbull in some weak sort of veneration83, and that they once set off together on a pilgrimage to the parish churchyard to find his tomb. To this, perhaps, might be traced a general suspicion that they are spies of ‘the gentlemen:’ to which they were supposed to have given colour in my own presence on the occasion of the weak attempt at justification84 of the pump by the gentlemen’s clerk; when they emerged bare-headed from the doors of their dwellings, as if their dwellings and themselves constituted an old-fashioned weather-glass of double action with two figures of old ladies inside, and deferentially85 bowed to him at intervals86 until he took his departure. They are understood to be perfectly87 friendless and relationless. Unquestionably the two poor fellows make the very best of their lives in Titbull’s Alms-Houses, and unquestionably they are (as before mentioned) the subjects of unmitigated contempt there.
On Saturday nights, when there is a greater stir than usual outside, and when itinerant88 vendors89 of miscellaneous wares90 even take their stations and light up their smoky lamps before the iron railings, Titbull’s becomes flurried. Mrs. Saggers has her celebrated91 palpitations of the heart, for the most part, on Saturday nights. But Titbull’s is unfit to strive with the uproar92 of the streets in any of its phases. It is religiously believed at Titbull’s that people push more than they used, and likewise that the foremost object of the population of England and Wales is to get you down and trample93 on you. Even of railroads they know, at Titbull’s, little more than the shriek94 (which Mrs. Saggers says goes through her, and ought to be taken up by Government); and the penny postage may even yet be unknown there, for I have never seen a letter delivered to any inhabitant. But there is a tall, straight, sallow lady resident in Number Seven, Titbull’s, who never speaks to anybody, who is surrounded by a superstitious95 halo of lost wealth, who does her household work in housemaid’s gloves, and who is secretly much deferred96 to, though openly cavilled97 at; and it has obscurely leaked out that this old lady has a son, grandson, nephew, or other relative, who is ‘a Contractor98,’ and who would think it nothing of a job to knock down Titbull’s, pack it off into Cornwall, and knock it together again. An immense sensation was made by a gipsy-party calling in a spring-van, to take this old lady up to go for a day’s pleasure into Epping Forest, and notes were compared as to which of the company was the son, grandson, nephew, or other relative, the Contractor. A thick-set personage with a white hat and a cigar in his mouth, was the favourite: though as Titbull’s had no other reason to believe that the Contractor was there at all, than that this man was supposed to eye the chimney stacks as if he would like to knock them down and cart them off, the general mind was much unsettled in arriving at a conclusion. As a way out of this difficulty, it concentrated itself on the acknowledged Beauty of the party, every stitch in whose dress was verbally unripped by the old ladies then and there, and whose ‘goings on’ with another and a thinner personage in a white hat might have suffused99 the pump (where they were principally discussed) with blushes, for months afterwards. Herein Titbull’s was to Titbull’s true, for it has a constitutional dislike of all strangers. As concerning innovations and improvements, it is always of opinion that what it doesn’t want itself, nobody ought to want. But I think I have met with this opinion outside Titbull’s.
Of the humble100 treasures of furniture brought into Titbull’s by the inmates when they establish themselves in that place of contemplation for the rest of their days, by far the greater and more valuable part belongs to the ladies. I may claim the honour of having either crossed the threshold, or looked in at the door, of every one of the nine ladies, and I have noticed that they are all particular in the article of bedsteads, and maintain favourite and long-established bedsteads and bedding as a regular part of their rest. Generally an antiquated101 chest of drawers is among their cherished possessions; a tea-tray always is. I know of at least two rooms in which a little tea-kettle of genuine burnished102 copper103, vies with the cat in winking104 at the fire; and one old lady has a tea-urn10 set forth in state on the top of her chest of drawers, which urn is used as her library, and contains four duodecimo volumes, and a black-bordered newspaper giving an account of the funeral of Her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte. Among the poor old gentlemen there are no such niceties. Their furniture has the air of being contributed, like some obsolete105 Literary Miscellany, ‘by several hands;’ their few chairs never match; old patchwork106 coverlets linger among them; and they have an untidy habit of keeping their wardrobes in hat-boxes. When I recall one old gentleman who is rather choice in his shoe-brushes and blacking-bottle, I have summed up the domestic elegances107 of that side of the building.
On the occurrence of a death in Titbull’s, it is invariably agreed among the survivors108 — and it is the only subject on which they do agree — that the departed did something ‘to bring it on.’ Judging by Titbull’s, I should say the human race need never die, if they took care. But they don’t take care, and they do die, and when they die in Titbull’s they are buried at the cost of the Foundation. Some provision has been made for the purpose, in virtue109 of which (I record this on the strength of having seen the funeral of Mrs. Quinch) a lively neighbouring undertaker dresses up four of the old men, and four of the old women, hustles110 them into a procession of four couples, and leads off with a large black bow at the back of his hat, looking over his shoulder at them airily from time to time to see that no member of the party has got lost, or has tumbled down; as if they were a company of dim old dolls.
Resignation of a dwelling is of very rare occurrence in Titbull’s. A story does obtain there, how an old lady’s son once drew a prize of Thirty Thousand Pounds in the Lottery111, and presently drove to the gate in his own carriage, with French Horns playing up behind, and whisked his mother away, and left ten guineas for a Feast. But I have been unable to substantiate112 it by any evidence, and regard it as an Alms-House Fairy Tale. It is curious that the only proved case of resignation happened within my knowledge.
It happened on this wise. There is a sharp competition among the ladies respecting the gentility of their visitors, and I have so often observed visitors to be dressed as for a holiday occasion, that I suppose the ladies to have besought113 them to make all possible display when they come. In these circumstances much excitement was one day occasioned by Mrs. Mitts receiving a visit from a Greenwich Pensioner. He was a Pensioner of a bluff114 and warlike appearance, with an empty coat-sleeve, and he was got up with unusual care; his coat-buttons were extremely bright, he wore his empty coat-sleeve in a graceful115 festoon, and he had a walking-stick in his hand that must have cost money. When, with the head of his walking-stick, he knocked at Mrs. Mitts’s door — there are no knockers in Titbull’s — Mrs. Mitts was overheard by a next-door neighbour to utter a cry of surprise expressing much agitation116; and the same neighbour did afterwards solemnly affirm that when he was admitted into Mrs. Mitts’s room, she heard a smack117. Heard a smack which was not a blow.
There was an air about this Greenwich Pensioner when he took his departure, which imbued118 all Titbull’s with the conviction that he was coming again. He was eagerly looked for, and Mrs. Mitts was closely watched. In the meantime, if anything could have placed the unfortunate six old gentlemen at a greater disadvantage than that at which they chronically119 stood, it would have been the apparition120 of this Greenwich Pensioner. They were well shrunken already, but they shrunk to nothing in comparison with the Pensioner. Even the poor old gentlemen themselves seemed conscious of their inferiority, and to know submissively that they could never hope to hold their own against the Pensioner with his warlike and maritime121 experience in the past, and his tobacco money in the present: his chequered career of blue water, black gunpowder122, and red bloodshed for England, home, and beauty.
Before three weeks were out, the Pensioner reappeared. Again he knocked at Mrs. Mitts’s door with the handle of his stick, and again was he admitted. But not again did he depart alone; for Mrs. Mitts, in a bonnet123 identified as having been re-embellished, went out walking with him, and stayed out till the ten o’clock beer, Greenwich time.
There was now a truce124, even as to the troubled waters of Mrs. Saggers’s pail; nothing was spoken of among the ladies but the conduct of Mrs. Mitts and its blighting125 influence on the reputation of Titbull’s. It was agreed that Mr. Battens ‘ought to take it up,’ and Mr. Battens was communicated with on the subject. That unsatisfactory individual replied ‘that he didn’t see his way yet,’ and it was unanimously voted by the ladies that aggravation126 was in his nature.
How it came to pass, with some appearance of inconsistency, that Mrs. Mitts was cut by all the ladies and the Pensioner admired by all the ladies, matters not. Before another week was out, Titbull’s was startled by another phenomenon. At ten o’clock in the forenoon appeared a cab, containing not only the Greenwich Pensioner with one arm, but, to boot, a Chelsea Pensioner with one leg. Both dismounting to assist Mrs. Mitts into the cab, the Greenwich Pensioner bore her company inside, and the Chelsea Pensioner mounted the box by the driver: his wooden leg sticking out after the manner of a bowsprit, as if in jocular homage127 to his friend’s sea-going career. Thus the equipage drove away. No Mrs. Mitts returned that night.
What Mr. Battens might have done in the matter of taking it up, goaded128 by the infuriated state of public feeling next morning, was anticipated by another phenomenon. A Truck, propelled by the Greenwich Pensioner and the Chelsea Pensioner, each placidly129 smoking a pipe, and pushing his warrior130 breast against the handle.
The display on the part of the Greenwich Pensioner of his ‘marriage-lines,’ and his announcement that himself and friend had looked in for the furniture of Mrs. G. Pensioner, late Mitts, by no means reconciled the ladies to the conduct of their sister; on the contrary, it is said that they appeared more than ever exasperated131. Nevertheless, my stray visits to Titbull’s since the date of this occurrence, have confirmed me in an impression that it was a wholesome132 fillip. The nine ladies are smarter, both in mind and dress, than they used to be, though it must be admitted that they despise the six gentlemen to the last extent. They have a much greater interest in the external thoroughfare too, than they had when I first knew Titbull’s. And whenever I chance to be leaning my back against the pump or the iron railings, and to be talking to one of the junior ladies, and to see that a flush has passed over her face, I immediately know without looking round that a Greenwich Pensioner has gone past.
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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elevations
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| （水平或数量）提高( elevation的名词复数 )； 高地； 海拔； 提升 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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supersedes
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| 取代，接替( supersede的第三人称单数 ) | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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bequest
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| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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pensioner
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| n.领养老金的人 | |
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defrauded
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| v.诈取，骗取( defraud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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parentheses
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| n.圆括号，插入语，插曲（ parenthesis的名词复数 ） | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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garnish
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| n.装饰，添饰，配菜 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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38
pensioners
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| n.领取退休、养老金或抚恤金的人( pensioner的名词复数 ) | |
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39
virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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40
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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41
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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42
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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43
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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44
virulence
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| n.毒力，毒性；病毒性；致病力 | |
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45
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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46
masticate
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| v.咀嚼 | |
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47
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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48
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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50
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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51
propitiatory
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| adj.劝解的；抚慰的；谋求好感的；哄人息怒的 | |
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52
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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53
proprieties
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| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
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54
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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55
purported
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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57
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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58
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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59
dotage
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| n.年老体衰；年老昏聩 | |
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60
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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61
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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62
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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63
disparaged
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| v.轻视( disparage的过去式和过去分词 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
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64
mitts
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| n.露指手套，棒球手套，拳击手套( mitt的名词复数 ) | |
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65
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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66
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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67
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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68
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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71
accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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72
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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73
plumber
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| n.(装修水管的)管子工 | |
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74
perspicuity
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| n.（文体的）明晰 | |
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75
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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76
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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77
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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78
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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79
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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81
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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82
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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83
veneration
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| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
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84
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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85
deferentially
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| adv.表示敬意地，谦恭地 | |
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86
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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87
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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88
itinerant
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| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
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89
vendors
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| n.摊贩( vendor的名词复数 )；小贩；（房屋等的）卖主；卖方 | |
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90
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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91
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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92
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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93
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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94
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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95
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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96
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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97
cavilled
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| v.挑剔，吹毛求疵( cavil的过去式 ) | |
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98
contractor
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| n.订约人，承包人，收缩肌 | |
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99
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
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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101
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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102
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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103
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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104
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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105
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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106
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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107
elegances
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| n.高雅( elegance的名词复数 )；（举止、服饰、风格等的）优雅；精致物品；（思考等的）简洁 | |
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108
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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109
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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110
hustles
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| 忙碌，奔忙( hustle的名词复数 ) | |
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111
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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112
substantiate
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| v.证实；证明...有根据 | |
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113
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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114
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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115
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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116
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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117
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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118
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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119
chronically
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| ad.长期地 | |
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120
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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121
maritime
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| adj.海的，海事的，航海的，近海的，沿海的 | |
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122
gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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123
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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124
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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125
blighting
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| 使凋萎( blight的现在分词 )； 使颓丧； 损害； 妨害 | |
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126
aggravation
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| n.烦恼，恼火 | |
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127
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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128
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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129
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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130
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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131
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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132
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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