This feeling I share, I suppose, with millions of other men and children who have been reared in coast cities, and whose minds respond to the large invitations offered by sooty smoke-stacks or the dim outline of a station roof. And if these things pierced the complacence of one's days in the past, how much deeper and more significant their message in those four dreadful years, when men fared forth4 in ships and trains to new perils5 unimagined in the quieter years.
That apart, I see docks and railway stations not in their economic or historic aspect, but in the picturesque6 light, as, perhaps, the most emphatic[Pg 31] glory of London. For London's major architectural beauties I care little. Abbeys, cathedrals, old churches, museums, leave me cold; the fine shudder7 about the shoulders I suffer most sharply before those haphazard8 wizardries of brick and iron flung together by the exigencies9 of modern commerce. Their fortuitous ugliness achieves a new beauty. A random10 eye-full of such townscapes may yield only an impression of squalor, but many acres of squalor produce, by their very vastness, something of the sublime11. Belching12 chimneys, flaring13 furnaces, the solemn smell of wet coal mingled14 with that of tar15 and bilge-water, and the sight of brown sails and surly funnels17 and swinging cranes—in these misshapen masses I find that delight that others receive from contemplation of Salisbury Cathedral or a spire18 of Wren's.
The docks of London lie closely in a group—Wapping, Shadwell, Rotherhithe, Poplar, Limehouse, Isle19 of Dogs, Blackwall, and North Woolwich, and each possesses its own fine-flavoured character. You may know at once, without other evidence than that afforded by the sense of smell, whether you stand in London Docks, Surrey Commercial Docks, West India Docks, Millwall Docks, or Victoria and Albert Docks. To me,[Pg 32] the West and East India Docks are soaked in the bright odour and placid20 clamour of the East, with something of feminine allure21 in the quality of their appeal. Victoria and Albert Docks I find gaunt and colourless. Surrey Commercial Docks remind me of some coarse merchant from the Royal Exchange, stupidly vulgar in speech, clothes and character.
The East and West India Docks I have treated elsewhere. Of the others, the most exciting are Millwall and London Docks—though of the latter I fear one must now speak in the past tense. Shadwell High Street and St. George's, which border the London Docks, are no longer themselves. All is now charged with gloom, broken only by the an?mic lights of a few miserable22 mission-halls and coffee-bars for the use of Scandinavian seamen23. Awhile back, before this monstrous24 jest of war, there was a certain raw gaiety about the place brought thither25 by these same blond vikings; but, since the frenetic agitations26 of certain timorous27 people against "all aliens"—as though none but an alien can be a spy—these men are not now allowed to land from their boats, and Shadwell is the poorer of a touch of colour. One might often meet them and[Pg 33] fraternize with them in the coffee-bars and beer-shops (there are few "public-houses" in these streets), and hear their view of things. Bearded giants they were, absurdly out of the picture in these tiny, sawdusted rooms, against the hideous28 bedizenment of the London house of refreshment29. They would engage in rich, confused, interminable conversations, using a language which, to the stranger, sounded like a medley30 of hiccoughs and snorts; and there would be vehement31 arguments and a large fanning of the breeze. In the upper rooms, on Saturday evenings, one might have singing and dancing to a cracked piano and a superannuated32 banjo, and there the girls of the quarter would appear, and would do themselves well on seafarers' hospitality.
But the free-and-easy atmosphere is gone. You enter any bar and are at once under a cloud. Suspicion has been bred in all these docks men by the cheap Press. The patriotic33 stevedores34 regard you as a disguised alien. The landlord wonders whether you are one of those blasted newspaper men or are from the Yard. The visitors to the bars are in every case insipid35; none of the ripe character that once lit such places to sudden life. Abrupt36 acquaintance and casual [Pg 34]conversation are not to be had. The beer is filthy37. The good Burton is gone, and in its place you have a foul38 concoction39 which has not the mellowing40 effect of honest British beer or the exhilarating effect of the light continental41 brews42. Shadwell High Street is now a dirty lane of poor lodging-houses, foul courts, waste tracts43 of land, mission halls exuding44 a stale air of diseased hospitality, and those nondescript establishments, ships' chandlers, with their miscellanies of apparently45 useless lumber46, stored in such a heap that it would seem impossible to find any article immediately required. In short, social life here is as it should be, according to the unwearied in war-work.
Still, there are some adorable morsels47 of domestic architecture to be found up narrow alleys48: old cottages and tumbling buildings, mellowed49 by centuries of association with many weathers and with men and ships from the green and golden seas that lie beyond the muddy waters of London River; and these supply one touch of animation50 to the prevailing51 moribundity52.
Very different are the Millwall Docks. Little material beauty here, but something much better—good company, and plenty of it. The docks lie[Pg 35] at the south of the Isle of Dogs, amid a flat stretch of dreary53 warehouses54 and factories, and you approach them by a long curving street of poor cottages and "general" shops. The island is a place of harsh discords55, for Cubitt's works are established here, and the ring of hammers rises above the roar of furnaces, and the vociferous56 life of the canals above the scream of the siren and the moan of the hooter, and the concerted voices of the island seem to cry the accumulated agony of the East End. Great arc lights, suspended from above, when cargoes57 are being unloaded by night, fling into sudden illumination or shadow the faces and figures of the groups of workers as they stagger up the gangways with their loads, and lend to the whole scene an air of theatrical58 illusion. In the bars you find sweaty engineers and grimy stokers. Here is a prolific59 field of character; mostly British, though a few Lascars may be found, drinking solitary60 drinks or parading the streets with their customary air of bewilderment. Here are nut-brown toilers of the sea, whose complexions61 suggest that they have been trapped by that advertiser in the popular Press who offers his toilet wares62 with the oracular pronouncement that "Handsome Men[Pg 36] Are Slightly Sunburnt." Here are men who have circled the seven seas. Here, calm and taciturn, is a man who knows Pitcairn Islanders to speak to; who produces from one pocket a carved ivory god, presented to him by some native of Java, and from the other Old Timothy's One-Horse Snip63 for the Big Race.
Under the meagre daylight and the opulent shadows of these docks you may drink beer and listen to casual chit-chat that carries you round the world and into magical hidden places, and brings you back with a jerk to the Isle of Dogs.
"Yerce. Two bob a pound the 'Ome an' Colonial was arstin' the missus for the stuff. I soon went round an' told 'em where they could put it. Well, 'sI was sayin', after we left Rangoon, we——"
The land in this district consists, for the most part, of oozing64 marsh65, so that, when a gale66 sweeps from the mouth of the river, it reaches the island with unexpended force. Then the sky seems to scream in harmony with the rattling67 windows. Saloon signs swing grotesquely68. The river assumes a steely hue69, heaving and rushing, sucking against staples70, wharves and barges71, and rising in ineffectual splashes against the gates of the docks,[Pg 37] until you seek the public bar of the "Dog and Thunderstorm" as a sanctuary72. There, amid the babble73 of pewter and glass and the punctuation74 of the cash register, you forget any London gale in listening to stories of typhoons, cyclones75, and other freaks of the elements common to the Pacific and the meeting of the waters round the Horn.
Many hours have I squandered76 on the ridiculous bridge of the Isle of Dogs, in sunlight or twilight77, grey mist or velvet78 darkness, building my dreams about the boats as they dropped downstream to the oceans of the world and their ports with honey-syllabled names—Swatow, Rangoon, Manila, Mozambique, Amoy—returning in normal times, with fantastic cargoes of cornelian and jade79, malachite and onyx, fine shapes of ivory and coral, sharp spices of betel-nut and bhang, and a secret tin or two of li-un—perhaps not returning at all. There I would stand, giving to each ship some name and destination born of my own fancy, and endowing it with a marvellous meed of adventure.
It is an exciting experience for the landsman Cockney, strolling the streets about the docks, to rub shoulders with other little Cockneys, in blue[Pg 38] serge and cotton scarves, who have accepted the non-committal invitation offered by the funnel16 and the rigging over the walls of Limehouse Basin. One remembers the story of the pale curate at the church concert, at which one of the entertainers had sung a setting of Kipling's "Rolling Down to Rio." "Ah, God!" he said, wringing80 his thin hands, "that's what I often feel like.... Rolling down to Rio." And in these streets one meets insignificant81 little men who have done it; who have rolled down to Rio and gone back to Mandalay, and seen the dawn come up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay.
And I am proud to have nodding acquaintance with them. I am glad they have drunk beer with me. I am glad I have clicked the chopsticks in Limehouse Causeway with the yellow boys who can talk of Canton and Siam and North Borneo and San Francisco. I am glad I have salaamed82 noble men of India at the Asiatics' Home, and heard their stories of odourous villages in the hills and of the seas about India, and of strange islands which mere83 Cockneys pick out on the map with an uncertain forefinger—Andamans, Nicobars, Solomons, and so forth. I am glad from having met men who know Java as I know London; who[Pg 39] know the best places in Tokio for tea and the most picturesque spots in Formosa; who can direct me to a good hotel in Singapore, should I ever go there, and who know where Irish whisky can be bought in Sarawak. Why study guidebooks, or consult with the omniscient84 Mr. Cook, when you may find about the great ornamental85 gates of the docks of London natives of all corners of the world who can provide you with a hundred exclusive tips which will make smooth the traveller's way over every obstacle or untoward86 incident? Indeed, why travel at all, when you may travel by proxy87; when, by hanging round the docks of London, you may travel, on the lips of these men, through jungle, ocean, white town, palm grove88, desert island, and suffer all the sharp sensations of standing89 silent upon a peak in Darien, the while you are taking heartening draughts90 of mild and bitter in the saloon bar of the "Star of the East"?
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1 quays | |
码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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2 wharves | |
n.码头,停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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3 spoke | |
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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4 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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5 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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6 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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7 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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8 haphazard | |
adj.无计划的,随意的,杂乱无章的 | |
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9 exigencies | |
n.急切需要 | |
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10 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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11 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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12 belching | |
n. 喷出,打嗝 动词belch的现在分词形式 | |
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13 flaring | |
a.火焰摇曳的,过份艳丽的 | |
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14 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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15 tar | |
n.柏油,焦油;vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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16 funnel | |
n.漏斗;烟囱;v.汇集 | |
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17 funnels | |
漏斗( funnel的名词复数 ); (轮船,火车等的)烟囱 | |
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18 spire | |
n.(教堂)尖顶,尖塔,高点 | |
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19 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
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20 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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21 allure | |
n.诱惑力,魅力;vt.诱惑,引诱,吸引 | |
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22 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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23 seamen | |
n.海员 | |
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24 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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25 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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26 agitations | |
(液体等的)摇动( agitation的名词复数 ); 鼓动; 激烈争论; (情绪等的)纷乱 | |
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27 timorous | |
adj.胆怯的,胆小的 | |
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28 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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29 refreshment | |
n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
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30 medley | |
n.混合 | |
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31 vehement | |
adj.感情强烈的;热烈的;(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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32 superannuated | |
adj.老朽的,退休的;v.因落后于时代而废除,勒令退学 | |
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33 patriotic | |
adj.爱国的,有爱国心的 | |
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34 stevedores | |
n.码头装卸工人,搬运工( stevedore的名词复数 ) | |
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35 insipid | |
adj.无味的,枯燥乏味的,单调的 | |
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36 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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37 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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38 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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39 concoction | |
n.调配(物);谎言 | |
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40 mellowing | |
软化,醇化 | |
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41 continental | |
adj.大陆的,大陆性的,欧洲大陆的 | |
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42 brews | |
n.(尤指某地酿造的)啤酒( brew的名词复数 );酿造物的种类;(茶)一次的冲泡量;(不同思想、环境、事件的)交融v.调制( brew的第三人称单数 );酝酿;沏(茶);煮(咖啡) | |
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43 tracts | |
大片土地( tract的名词复数 ); 地带; (体内的)道; (尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的)短文 | |
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44 exuding | |
v.缓慢流出,渗出,分泌出( exude的现在分词 );流露出对(某物)的神态或感情 | |
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45 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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46 lumber | |
n.木材,木料;v.以破旧东西堆满;伐木;笨重移动 | |
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47 morsels | |
n.一口( morsel的名词复数 );(尤指食物)小块,碎屑 | |
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48 alleys | |
胡同,小巷( alley的名词复数 ); 小径 | |
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49 mellowed | |
(使)成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 ); 使色彩更加柔和,使酒更加醇香 | |
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50 animation | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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51 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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52 moribundity | |
垂死的 | |
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53 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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54 warehouses | |
仓库,货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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55 discords | |
不和(discord的复数形式) | |
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56 vociferous | |
adj.喧哗的,大叫大嚷的 | |
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57 cargoes | |
n.(船或飞机装载的)货物( cargo的名词复数 );大量,重负 | |
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58 theatrical | |
adj.剧场的,演戏的;做戏似的,做作的 | |
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59 prolific | |
adj.丰富的,大量的;多产的,富有创造力的 | |
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60 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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61 complexions | |
肤色( complexion的名词复数 ); 面色; 局面; 性质 | |
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62 wares | |
n. 货物, 商品 | |
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63 snip | |
n.便宜货,廉价货,剪,剪断 | |
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64 oozing | |
v.(浓液等)慢慢地冒出,渗出( ooze的现在分词 );使(液体)缓缓流出;(浓液)渗出,慢慢流出 | |
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65 marsh | |
n.沼泽,湿地 | |
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66 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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67 rattling | |
adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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68 grotesquely | |
adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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69 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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70 staples | |
n.(某国的)主要产品( staple的名词复数 );钉书钉;U 形钉;主要部份v.用钉书钉钉住( staple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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71 barges | |
驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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72 sanctuary | |
n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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73 babble | |
v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
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74 punctuation | |
n.标点符号,标点法 | |
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75 cyclones | |
n.气旋( cyclone的名词复数 );旋风;飓风;暴风 | |
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76 squandered | |
v.(指钱,财产等)浪费,乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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78 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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79 jade | |
n.玉石;碧玉;翡翠 | |
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80 wringing | |
淋湿的,湿透的 | |
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81 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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82 salaamed | |
行额手礼( salaam的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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84 omniscient | |
adj.无所不知的;博识的 | |
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85 ornamental | |
adj.装饰的;作装饰用的;n.装饰品;观赏植物 | |
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86 untoward | |
adj.不利的,不幸的,困难重重的 | |
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87 proxy | |
n.代理权,代表权;(对代理人的)委托书;代理人 | |
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88 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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89 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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90 draughts | |
n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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