The casual reader of the notebook would never guess this from the comment written there. Did he know 172 the length and the nature of my residence at the atoll, he would be surprised, merely, that with so much leisure for observation there should be such poverty of recorded fact. I, myself, am surprised and a little appalled9 when I think how the weeks slipped by, leaving me nothing to show for them. I became a spendthrift of time. I was under the delusion10 that my own just share of it had been immeasurably increased, that in some unaccountable way I had fallen heir to a legacy11 of hours and days which could never be exhausted12. The delusion was of gradual growth, like the habit of reverie which fastens itself at last upon the most restless of wanderers among the atolls. In the beginning I was full of business. I remember with what earnestness of purpose I wrote on the first page of the notebook, "Rutiaro: Observations on Life and Character in the Low Archipelago." I had ambitious plans. I meant to go back and forth14 between my hermitage and the village island, notebook in hand, saying, "Eaha tera?" ("What is that?"), "Nafea ia parau Paumotu?" ("How do you say this in Paumotuan?"). And when I had learned the language and had completed my studies of flora15 and fauna16 I was to be the Boswell of the atoll, curious, tireless, not to be rebuked17 by the wind rustling18 the fronds19 of the palms nor by the voice of the sea when the wind was low, saying, "Sh-h-h, sh-h-h," on thirty miles of coral reef.
But I was rebuked—or so it seemed to me—and now, I fear, the learned monograph20 is never to be written. A faltering21 purpose is plainly indicated in the notebook. It becomes apparent in the first observation on "The Life and Character of the Paumotuans," which reads: 173
Before the starry22 threshold of Jove's court
My mansion23 is; where those immortal24 shapes
Of bright a?rial spirits live ensphered
In regions mild, of calm and serene25 air.
The president of the Polynesian society would say, and rightly, no doubt, that this is not germane26 to the subject. But at the time I wrote it it was so accurately27 descriptive of the place where my house stood that it might have been embodied28 with scarcely the exchange of a word in an exact real-estate announcement of the location of my property. I set it down one evening in early summer, the evening of my first day's residence at Soul-Eaters' Island. The completion of my house had been celebrated30 with a feast, and toward midnight I was left alone, watching the departure of the last of the villagers, who were returning in their canoes along the ocean side of the atoll. The sea was as calm as I have ever seen it, and as they went homeward, dipping their paddles into the shining tracks of the stars, my guests were singing an old chant. It was one of innumerable verses, telling of an evil earth spirit in the form of a sea bird which was supposed to make its home on the motu, and at the end of each verse the voices of the women rose in the refrain which I could hear long after the canoes had passed from sight:
"Aué! Aué!
Te nehenehe é!"
("Alas31! Alas!
How beautiful it is!")
a lament32 that a spirit so vindictive33, so pitiless, should be so fair to outward seeming.
Standing34 at the starry threshold, listening to the 174 ghostly refrain, I translated its application—its meaning, too—from the bird to the island where, perhaps, I would one day see it in my rambles35. I regretted that it was so inaccessible36, so remote and hidden from the world, as though that were not more than half the reason for its untarnished beauty. It is a maudlin37 feeling, that of sadness at the thought of loveliness hidden from appraising38 eyes; and I am inclined to think that it springs, not so much from an unselfish desire to share it, as from a vulgar longing39 to say to one's gregarious40 fellows: "See what I have found! Can you show me anything to equal it in beauty, you dwellers41 in cities?" Whatever its source in this case, I was glad that it passed quickly. No tears stained my pillow, even though I knew that Rutiaro could never be the goal of Sunday excursionists. But I was not quite easy in mind as I composed myself for sleep. I had made a poor beginning as a diarist. The first entry was fanciful and, furthermore, not my own. What original contribution to truth or beauty could I make as a result of the day's events? Finally I rose, lit my lamp, and wrote, underneath42 the Comus quotation43:
"The Paumotuans are very fond of perfume. This is probably due to the fact that their islands, being scantly44 provided with flowers and sweet-smelling herbs, they take this means of satisfying their craving45 for fragrant46 odors."
Alas! Alas!
How erroneous it was!
that observation. But I thought when I made it that it was based upon a careful enough consideration of the 175 facts. During the afternoon I had distributed some gifts among my guests, chiefly among the children. I had some bolts of ribbon and dress goods, some earrings47 and bracelets48, thinly washed in gold, which I had bought, on credit, of Moy Ling, the Chinaman, and I had been saving them for just such an occasion as the feast at Soul-Eaters' Island. I also had a case of perfume which Moy had been very reluctant to part with—perfume and toilet waters in fancy bottles, with quaint49 legends printed on the labels—"June Rose," which the makers50 admitted had "as much body as higher-priced perfumes"; "Wild Violet: Like a faint breath from the forest floor"; "Khiva Bouquet51: The Soul of the Exquisite52 Orient"; etc. This gift was greatly coveted53. Pinga immediately took charge of the three bottles I had given his daughters and packed them carefully in a pareu, together with a bottle of bay rum presented to him by virtue of his office as village barber. Rangituki went among her grandchildren scolding and rating, until she had made a similar collection, and in a short time all of the perfume was in the hands of a few of the older people. This seemed to me rather high-handed procedure, but it was not my place to interfere54 with parental55 and grandparental authority. And it was as well, perhaps, that the children should be restrained. Otherwise they would have saturated56 their clothing and their hair, and the atoll would have smelled to heaven or very near it.
I thought no more of the episode until the following Sunday when I went to church at the village. A combined service of Latter Day Saints and the Reformed Church of Latter Day Saints was being held, an 176 amicable57 arrangement which would have scandalized the white missionaries58 of those rival denominations59. But at Rutiaro Saints and Reformed Saints live together peaceably enough and, being few in numbers, they often join forces for greater effect in the himines. The meeting was held in the Reformed church, a sightly structure built entirely60 of niau—the braided fronds of coconut61 palms—and the earthern floor was covered with mats of the same material. At one end of the room there was a raised platform and a deal table which served as a pulpit. The walls lengthwise were built to prop29 open outward, giving free circulation to the air and charming views of the shaded floor of the island and the blue waters of the lagoon62.
The church was full, the men sitting on one side and the women on the other, according to island custom, and the children playing about on the floor between the benches. Many of the older people, too, sat on the floor with their backs to the posts which supported the roof. Interest lagged during the intervals63 between the singing, and although Huirai was preaching in his usual forceful, denunciatory manner, I found my own thoughts wandering on secular64 paths. Of a sudden it occurred to me that June Rose should be discernible among the women of the congregation if it had as much body as had been claimed for it. But I could not detect its presence nor did the faintest breath reach me from the forest floor. I was conscious only of the penetrating65 odor of drying copra which came through the open windows and the not unpleasant smell of coconut oil.
What had become of the perfume, I wondered. On Sunday, if at all, it should have been in evidence, for 177 the women were in white dresses and before coming to church had made their most elaborate toilet of the week. But Huirai was warming to his theme and demanded attention, at least from me, not having heard him preach before. He had removed his coat and was perspiring66 and exhorting67 in a way which would have pleased the most devout68 and gloomy of missionaries. He had a peculiar oratorical69 manner. His face foretold70 clearly the birth of an idea. One could read there the first vague impulse in the brain which gave rise to it; see it gathering71 lucidity72, glimmering73, like heat lightning on a summer evening, in his cloudy mind, until it was given utterance74 in a voice of thunder, which rumbled75 away to silence as the light of creation died out of his eyes. Then he would stand motionless, gazing on vacancy76, profoundly unself-conscious, as though he were merely the passionless mouthpiece of some higher power. The abruptness77 of his outbursts and his ferocious78 aspect when delivering them were disconcerting; and it was even worse when, at intervals, his eyes met mine. Even though he were in the midst of a sentence he would pause and his face would beam with a radiant smile, in striking contrast to the forbidding scowl79 of the moment before. Remembering his mission, he would then proceed in his former manner. Without understanding his discourse80, one would have said that he was condemning81 all of his auditors82, who had evidently been guilty of the most frightful83 sins. But this was not the case. His sentences were short and in the periods of silence between them I had time to make a translation.
"Ua taparahi Kaina ia Abela (Cain killed Abel).... Why did he kill him?... Because he was a bad man, a 178 very bad man—(taata ino roa).... He was jealous of Abel, whom God loved because he willingly brought him gifts from his plantation84.... Abel did not keep everything for himself.... He said to God, 'Teie te faraoa na Oe' ('Here is bread for you').... He gave other things, too, many things, and he was glad to give them."
Huirai talked at great length on this theme, the members of the congregation sometimes listening and sometimes conversing85 among themselves. They had no scruples86 about interrupting the sermon. While Huirai was awaiting further inspiration hymns87 were started by the women and taken up at once by the others. Pinga, who sang bass88 parts, rocked back and forth to the cadence89, one hand cupped over his right ear, the better to enjoy the effect of the music. Rangituki, who went to the different churches in turn, because of the himines, had one of her granddaughters in her lap, and while she sang made a careful examination of the child's head, in search of a tiny parasite90 which favored that nesting place. Nui-Vahine sat with her breast bare, suckling a three-months-old baby. Old men and women and young, even the children, sang. Huirai alone was silent, gazing with moody91 abstraction over the heads of the congregation as he pondered further the ethical92 points at issue in the Cain and Abel story.
I had witnessed many scenes like this during the months spent in cruising among the atolls on the Caleb S. Winship—scenes to interest one again and again and to furnish food for a great deal of futile93 speculation94. How important a thing in the lives of these primitive95 people is this religion of ours which has 179 replaced their old beliefs and superstitions96? It would be absurd to say, "how fundamental," for religious faith is of slow growth and it was only yesterday, as time is counted, that the ship Duff, carrying the first missionaries who had ever visited this southern ocean, came to anchor at Tahiti. One of Huirai's remarks called to mind an account I had read of that first meeting between Christian97 missionaries and the heathen they had come to save. It is to be found in the narrative98 of the Duff's three years' voyage in the south Pacific, published in 1799, by the London Missionary99 Society:
Sunday, March 5, 1797.
The morning was pleasant, and with a gentle breeze we had, by seven o'clock, got abreast100 of the district of Atahooroo, whence we saw several canoes putting off and paddling toward us with great speed; at the same time it fell calm, which, being in their favor, we soon counted seventy-four canoes around us, many of them double ones, containing about twenty persons each. Being so numerous, we endeavored to keep them from crowding on board; but, in spite of all our efforts to prevent it, there were soon not less than one hundred of them dancing and capering101 like frantic102 persons about our decks, crying, "Tayo! Tayo!" and a few broken sentences of English were often repeated. They had no weapons of any kind among them; however, to keep them in awe103, some of the great guns were ordered to be hoisted104 out of the hold whilst they, as free from apprehension105 as the intention of mischief106, cheerfully assisted to put them on their carriages. When the first ceremonies were over, we began to view our new friends with an eye of inquiry107; their wild, disorderly behavior, strong smell of coconut oil, together with the tricks of the arreoies, lessened108 the favorable opinion we had formed of them; neither could we see aught of that elegance109 and beauty in their women for which they have been so greatly celebrated. This at first seemed to depreciate110 them in the estimation of our brethren; but the cheerfulness, good nature, and generosity111 of these kind people soon removed the momentary112 prejudices.... They continued to go about the decks till the transports of their joy gradually subsided113, when many of them left us of their own accord.... Those who remained, in number 180 about forty, being brought to order, the brethren proposed having divine service on the quarterdeck. Mr. Cover officiated; he perhaps was the first that ever mentioned with reverence114 the Saviour's name to these poor heathens. Such hymns were selected as had the most harmonious115 tunes—first, "O'er the Gloomy Hills of Darkness"; then, "Blow Ye the Trumpet116, Blow"; and at the conclusion, "Praise God, from Whom All Blessings117 Flow."... The whole service lasted about an hour and a quarter.
How clear a picture one has of the scene, described by men whose purity of faith, whose sincerity118 of belief, were beyond question. But one smiles a little sadly at the thought of their austerity, their total lack of that other divine attribute—a sense of humor. "Tayo! Tayo!" ("Friend! Friend!") the Tahitians cried, and the missionaries, to requite119 them for their kindly120 welcome, organized a prayer meeting an hour and a quarter in length, and sang, "O'er the Gloomy Hills of Darkness." It was a prophecy, that song. The Tahitians and others of the Polynesian family have gone far on that road since 1797.
Of course one doesn't blame the missionaries for this; but it seems to me that the chief benefit resulting from the Christianizing process is that it has offset121 some of the evils resulting from the rest of the civilizing122 process. This was not the opinion of Tino, supercargo of the Caleb S. Winship, however. I remember a conversation which I had with him on the subject, when Rutiaro itself lay within view, but still far distant. For the sake of argument I had made some willfully disparaging123 remark about traders, and Tino had taken exception to it.
"You're wrong," he said. "You know as well as I do—or maybe you don't—what these people used to be: cannibals, and not so many years ago at that. I 181 don't suppose you would call it a genteel practice? Well, what stopped it? I'll tell you what stopped it—tinned beef."
That was a new angle of vision to me. I said nothing, but I thought I could detect a hint of a smile in his eyes as he waited for the statement to sink in.
"I have had some fun in my time," he went on, "arguing this out with the missionaries. I say tinned beef and they say the four gospels. Can't be proved either way, of course. But suppose, right now, every trading schooner124 in the archipelago was to lay a course for Papeete. Suppose not one of them was to go back to the atolls for the next twenty-five years. Leave the people to themselves, as you say, and let them have their missionaries, with the Golden Rule in one hand and the Ten Commandments in the other. What chance would they have of dying a natural death? The missionaries, I mean. About as much chance as I have of getting old Maroaki at Taka Raro to pay me the eight hundred francs he owes me.
"What makes me laugh inside is that the missionaries are so serious about the influence they have had on the natives. I could tell them some things—but what would be the use? They wouldn't believe me. Just before we left Papeete this time I was talking to one of the Protestants. He told me that his Church had two thousand converts in French Oceania, while the Catholics had only around six hundred, I believe it was. I said that I knew how he could get that extra six hundred into his own fold, and probably a good many more if he wanted to. All he had to do was to charter my schooner, load her with Tahiti produce—bananas, mangoes, oranges, breadfruit; he needn't take 182 a single gallon of rum unless he wanted to. Then we would make a tour of the islands, holding church festivals, with refreshments125, at every one; and at the end of the cruise I would guarantee that there wouldn't be a Catholic left in all the Paumotus. He didn't take to the plan at all, and of course it did have one weak point—if the Brothers tried the same game they would have just the same success, and nobody could tell from one week to the next which were Protestants and which were Catholics.
"That's about what happened at Taka Raro the last time I was down there. The population is supposed to be divided about half and half between the Latter Day Saints and the Catholics. There are no missionaries living on the island. The head churches in Papeete send their men around when they can to see how things are going with their flocks. That is usually about once a year for each of them. Boats don't often put in at Taka Raro. I've been there only four times in ten years, myself, and the last time I brought down a young fellow from the Protestant crowd. He had been with me the whole cruise, holding services at the islands where I had put in for copra. I hadn't gone to any of them, but at Taka Raro I felt the need of some religion. I had spent the whole day chasing that Maroaki I spoke126 about. The old rascal127 has owed me that eight hundred francs since nineteen ten. He is an elder in his church too. The minute he makes out my schooner standing in toward the pass off he goes on important business to the far end of the lagoon. I went after him that day, with my usual luck. He wasn't to be found, and I came back to the village feeling a bit ruffled128 up.
183 "It was just time for the meeting, and I decided129 that I might as well go as to loaf around finding that old hypocrite while my copra was being loaded. The church was packed when I went in. There wasn't a Catholic in the village that evening. All of those who had been Catholics were taking part in the himine and singing the Protestant songs as well as the Latter Day Saints'. No one seemed to pay much attention to the sermon, though. The young missionary didn't understand the language very well, and the preaching was hard for him. But he seemed to feel pretty good about the meeting, and when we left, the next day, he went down to the cabin to write a report of the progress his church had made at Taka Raro. He must have had a lot to say, for he was at it all the morning. He didn't know that we passed the Ata just after we got out of the pass. That made me feel good, for Louis Germaine, her skipper, has been a rival of mine for years, and I had every kilo of dry copra there was on the island. I got the megaphone and was about to yell, 'Good luck to you, Louis!' when I saw that he had a missionary aboard, too—a priest with a knee-length beard and a black cloak; so I only waved my hand and Louis shook his fist and shouted something I couldn't make out. I was going to the westward130, stood close inshore, and passed the village from the outside an hour later. The priest hadn't lost any time getting his congregation together. Since there was no copra to be bought, I suppose Louis told him he had to get a move on. There had been another religious landslide131. I was sure of that from the singing, which I heard clear enough, the wind being offshore132. Great singers these Paumotuans, and 184 it doesn't make very much difference to them whether the song is 'Happy Day' or 'Jerusalem, the Golden.' Of course I didn't say anything to my missionary. As the old saying is, 'What you don't know won't hurt you.'"
This conversation with Tino was running through my mind as I strolled down the village island after the service. Tino, I decided, was prejudiced. His was the typical trader's point of view. I had heard many other incidents which bore him out in his findings, but they came usually from men interested in exploiting the islands commercially. Huirai's exposition of the old biblical story—was that merely the result of a prolonged tinned-beef crusade? Remembering the kind of sacrifice which was discussed, very likely on this very island, in the days of pure heathendom, such a conclusion seemed fantastical. No, one must be fair to the missionaries. Perhaps they were over-zealous at times, oversanguine about the results of their efforts—so were all human beings in whatever line of endeavor; but their accomplishment133 had been undeniably great. Here were people living orderly, quiet lives. They didn't drink, although in the early days of their contact with civilization—until quite recently, in fact—there had been terrible orgies of intoxication134. To overcome that was, in itself, a worthwhile accomplishment on the part of the Church. Only a few weeks before I had met Monsieur Ferlys, the administrator135 of the Paumotus, at Taenga. "The reign136 of alcohol is over," he had said to the islanders there—strange words, coming from the lips of a Frenchman. There was to be no more rum nor gin nor wine for any of the Paumotuans. Henceforth, any 185 trader found selling it or any native drinking it was to be severely137 punished.
I continued my walk to the far end of the island and, selecting a shady spot, sat down to rest. The pressure of a notebook in my hip13 pocket interrupted my examination of the problem, "The missionary versus138 the trader as a civilizing influence." I was reminded that I had made no recent observations on the life and character of the Paumotuans, and the recollection was annoying. Was I never to be able to pursue, in indolence, my unprofitable musings? Why this persistent139 feeling that I must set them down in black and white? Why sully the fair pages of my notebook? Words, words! The world was buried beneath their visible manifestations140, and still the interminable clacking of innumerable typewriters, the roar of glutted141 presses. In the mind's eye I saw magnificent forests being destroyed to feed this depraved appetite for words, which were piled mountain high in libraries; which encumbered142 all the attics143 in Christendom. Words, blowing about the streets and littering the parks on Sundays; filling the ash carts on Mondays. "No," I thought, "I will no longer be guilty of adding to the sum of words. I'll not write my learned monograph." But that inner voice, which itself is a creature born of many words—an artificial thing, however insistent144 its utterance—spoke out loud and clear: "You idler! You waster of your inheritance of energy! You throwback to barbarism—write!"
"But why?" I replied. "Tell me that! Why?"
"Sir, because it is your vocation145. And have you no convictions? Your grandfather had them, and your great-grandfather, and those missionaries of the Duff 186 you have been thinking about. Ah! the decay of convictions in this age! The lack of that old sublime146 belief in something—anything! Now then, I have come down to you through a long line of ancestors, and I don't mean to die through lack of exercise. You may not believe in me, but you've got to obey me. Write!"
I know that I should have no peace until I did, so I drew forth my notebook and, in line with my thoughts of a moment before, wrote, underneath the last observation on perfume: "The sale and consumption of alcoholic147 beverages148 among these islands is now prohibited by law. It is strange to find such legislation in territory under French administration. Is the prohibition149 movement to become world-wide, then? Is the reign of alcohol doomed150 in all lands?"
Exhausted by the mental effort, but somewhat easier in conscience, I replaced the notebook in my pocket. It was pleasant then to let the mind lie fallow or to occupy it with the reception of mere8 visual impressions. At length, although I didn't sleep, I was scarcely more animate151 then the fluted152 shell lying close by on the beach or the kopapa bushes which formed a green inclosure around my resting place.
Something whirled through the air over my head and fell with a light splash in the water before me. I sat gazing at it without curiosity, hardly moved, so slowly does one come out of the depths of dreamless reverie. Little waves pushed the object gently shoreward until it lay, rolling back and forth in a few inches of clear water. "What!" I shouted. I didn't actually shout—I didn't open my lips; but the shock of astonishment153 seemed vocal—as loud as a blare of 187 trumpets154 or a clash of cymbals155. Before me lay a prettily156 fashioned bottle, half filled with sea water, and the label on it read, "Khiva Bouquet: The Soul of the Exquisite Orient." "Impossible!" I thought. "I am three miles from the village and no one lives at this end of the island." Then I heard voices or, better, one voice which I recognized as that of Rangituki. She was talking in a low monotone, her most effective manner when reciting one of her interminable stories of former days. Cautiously I pushed aside the bushes and looked through. Rangituki was sitting about twenty yards away, in the midst of a company of five. Pinga was one of them and Tevai another—both fathers of families and both much concerned, a few days earlier, lest their children should waste the perfume I had given them. Pinga took a pull at a bottle which I identified as belonging to Wild Violet. He made a wry157 face as he did it, but he took another and then another, before he set it down. The wind was toward me, and as the corks158 popped—or, more accurately, as stoppers were lifted—I was forced to admit that June Rose had body, impalpable, perhaps, but authentic159.
I passed the furtive160 revelers unnoticed by going along the lagoon beach, keeping under the screen of kopapa bushes. Should I tell Puarei, the chief, of this evasion161 of the law? I decided that I would not, for he was a stern man and would punish the culprits severely. After all, on an island where there were so few distractions162, what was a little perfume among friends?
All of which proves plainly enough, it seems to me, the folly163 of keeping a notebook; at any rate, the folly of jumping hastily to conclusions.
188 Or perhaps, more important than this, it gives further light on the vexed164 question, Does prohibition prohibit?
I find no other observations on Paumotuan life and character, under this date, unless the word, "Mama-faaamu" scribbled165 on the margin166 of a leaf, may be regarded as a discouraged hint at one; a suggestion for a commentary on a curious Polynesian relationship, when—and only when—I should have had time to gather all of the available data concerning it. This relationship has to do with the transfer of a child, or children, from the original blood parents to another set known as "feeding-parents." My interest in the practice dates from the moment when I made my first notebook reference to it, and it was aroused in a very casual, leisurely167 fashion. For this reason it will be best, I think, to tell the story of it in a leisurely way.
Returning to the village from the scene of the perfume orgy, I found the church still occupied, although the service was long over. The benches had been stacked in one corner; the mats shaken out and spread again on the floor, where fifteen or twenty people were reclining at ease or sitting native fashion—some of them talking, some sleeping, some engaged in light tasks such as hat weaving and the fashioning of pearl-shell fish hooks; others in the yet more congenial task of doing nothing at all. It was the practice, on Sunday, for the village to gather at the Reformed church, which they felt at liberty to use for secular as well as for sacred purposes, for it was a native-built structure, with walls and roof of thatch168, like those of their own houses. The two other churches were never so used. They were frame buildings, in the 189 European or American style of church architecture, with formal furnishings and windows of colored glass. To have done any sort of work in either of them would have been regarded as a serious offense169, certain to be followed by unmistakable evidence of divine displeasure. As Tuina once told me, sores, illness, even death might result as a punishment for such desecration170.
I was thinking of this and other primitive reactions to ecclesiastical furniture, and my hand was faltering toward my notebook pocket when Huirai's little daughter, Manava, entered the church, carrying a white cloth which she spread on the pulpit table. She returned a moment later with a tin of sardines171, some boiled rice on a kahaia leaf, and a bowl of tea. I was Huirai's guest for the day, and had been anxiously awaiting some evidence that food was on the way; but I had not expected that it would be served in the church. I had not eaten a church dinner since boyhood, and, strangely enough, the memory of some of those early feasts came back to me while Manava was setting the table. As one scene is superimposed upon another on a moving-picture screen, I saw an American village of twenty years ago—a village of board sidewalks and quiet, shaded streets bright with dandelions, taking ghostly form and transparency among the palms of Rutiaro. Two small boys walked briskly along, ringing hand bells, and shouting, "Dinner at the Pres-by-terian church ri-i-i-ight awa-a-a-ay." The G. A. R. band—a fife, two tenor172 drums, and one bass—played outside the church where the crowd was gathering, and horses, attached to buggies and spring wagons173, were pawing the earth around the hitching174 190 posts. Then Mrs. MacGregor appeared in the doorway175, her kindly face beaming the warmest of welcomes. "Come on in and set down, folks. Everything's all ready." Members of the Ladies' Relief Corps—mothers of large families, used to catering176 for large appetites—hurried back and forth with platters of roast turkey and chicken, roast beef, mashed177 potatoes of marvelous smoothness and flakiness—with everything in the way of food which that hospitable178 Middle-Western country provides. I heard the pleasant talk of homely179 things, smelled the appetizing odors, saw plates replenished180 again and again. Throughout the length of the tables old-fashioned gravy181 boats sailed from cover to cover—but I spared myself further contemplation of the scene, further shadowy participation182 in a feast which cost the affluent183 but a quarter, and a bell ringer nothing at all. The vision faded, but before it was quite gone I heard a voice saying: "Land sakes! You boys ain't eating a thing! Have some more of these dumplings? What's the matter with your appetites? Ain't you feelin' well?" It seemed a thousand years away, that voice; and no doubt it was, and is, even farther than that.
Church dinners at Rutiaro were not such sumptuous184 affairs. They were not, in fact, an integral part of the community life. In so far as I know, this was the only one ever held there and was the result of Huirai's peculiar notions of the hospitality due a white man. I told him that I was not accustomed to dining in churches at home, even on Sunday, and, furthermore, that I liked companionship at table. But he was not convinced, and he refused to join me. He and his family had already eaten, he said; so I sat on a box 191 at the pulpit table, partaking of a solitary185 meal, and got through with it as quickly as possible.
I smiled inwardly at the thought of the inheritance of prestige, granted me without question, at Rutiaro, merely because I was the sole representative there of a so-called superior race. No white wasters had preceded me at the atoll. This was fortunate in a way, for it gave me something to live up to—the ideal Rutiaroan conception of the popaa—white man. Huirai was partly responsible for the fact that it was ideal. His tales of San Francisco—which, to the Paumotuan, means America—had been steadily186 growing in splendor187. He seemed to have forgotten whatever he may have seen there of misery188 or incompetence189 or ugliness. All Americans were divinities of a sort. Their energy was superhuman; their accomplishment, as exemplified in ships, trains, buildings, automobiles190, moving-picture theaters—beyond all belief unless one had actually seen those things. And the meanest of them lived on a scale of grandeur191 far surpassing that of the governor of the Paumotus at Fakavava. Yes, I had something to live up to at Rutiaro. The necessity was flattering, to be sure, but it cost some effort and inconvenience to meet it. I didn't dare look as slack as I often felt, both mentally and physically192. I could not even sit on the floor, or stretch out at my ease, when in a native house; and I was compelled, when eating, to resume the use of my two-pronged fork and the small tin spoon, although it was much simpler and easier to eat with my fingers as the rest of them did.
Having finished my meal, I took what comfort prestige permitted by placing my box by the wall and leaning back against a post. Takiero, a woman of 192 barbaric beauty, was sitting near by playing, "Conquer the North" on my ocharina. I taught her the air in an unguarded moment and had been regretting it ever since. Hunga, her husband, lay at her side, his strong, fine limbs relaxed in sleep. I would have given all my gratuitous193 prestige as a popaa to have exchanged legs or shoulders or girth of chest with him. It was at about this time, as I remember it, that my thoughts turned to the subject of feeding-parents. Nui-Vahine was present, still—or again—nursing the three months' old baby. It belonged, as I knew, to Takiero, who appeared to be quite capable of nourishing it herself. Why had she given it to Nui-Vahine? And why had Hunga, the father of the child, consented to this seemingly unnatural194 gift? The transfer of parenthood had been made a month earlier, since which time Takiero and her husband had shown only a slight, proprietary195 interest in their offspring. Takiero sometimes dandled it on her knee, as any woman might the child of some one else; but no one would have guessed that she was the mother of it. Nui-Vahine fed, clothed, and bathed it, and her husband, Nui-Tane, was as fond of it as she herself. They kept the child at their house, and between them made as much fuss over it as though it were their own flesh and blood. What could have been the origin of this strange practice of parenthood by proxy196? It was a common one throughout eastern Polynesia. I had seen a good many instances of it in the Cook islands, the Marquesas, and the Society group. Here was a subject worthy197 of an important chapter in the Life and Character monograph, and I decided that I might as well begin my researches at once.
193 Takiero reluctantly left off her playing and placed herself in a receptive mood. Why, I asked, had she given her child to Nui-Vahine? Her reply was, because Nui-Vahine had asked for it. "But, see here, Takiero," I said, "I should think that you and Hunga would want to keep your own baby. It is none of my business, of course. I ask you only because I would like to get some information on this feeding-parent custom. Can't you feed it yourself? Is that the reason you gave it away?"
I blundered atrociously in asking that question. Without meaning to, I touched her pride as a woman, as a mother. Takiero looked at me for a moment without speaking. Then she tore open her dress and gave me absolute proof—not that I wanted it—of her ability to nurse her own or any other child. Following this, she went over to where Nui-Vahine was sitting, snatched the baby from her arms, and almost smothered198 it against her body. She fondled it, kissed it, covered it with her magnificent hair. I had never before seen such a display of savage199 and tender maternal200 passion.
By that time Nui-Vahine had recovered from her astonishment and came to the defense201 of her own. Her month of motherhood gave her claims to the child, apparently202, and she tried to enforce them physically. Takiero stood her ground, her black eyes flaming and, holding the baby in one arm, pushed Nui-Vahine away with the other. I expected to see hair flying, but, luckily, both women found their tongues at the same moment. They were like—they were, in fact—two superb cats, spitting at each other. The torrent203 of words did not flow smoothly204. It came in hot, short bursts, like salvos of machine-gun fire, and, 194 curiously205 enough, it was almost pure Paumotuan, not the hybrid206 Paumotuan-Tahitian commonly used in their temperate207 speech. It bristled208 with snarling209 ng's, with flintlike k's from which fire could be struck in passionate210 argument. Other women took sides in the quarrel. Had I poked211 an inquisitive212 pencil into a wasps213' nest the effect could hardly have been more disconcerting. Hunga was awakened214 by the angry voices and looked on with sleepy perplexity. Nui-Tane grinned reassuringly215, as much as to say: "Don't be upset. You know what women are." Finally, Puarei, the chief, who had been an impassive spectator, bellowed216 out a command for silence. The tumult217 subsided at once, and the fury of the women with it. Five minutes later everything was as it had been before. Hunga was sleeping and Nui-Tane polishing a pearl-shell fish hook; Nui-Vahine had the baby and Takiero the ocharina. Neither of them showed the least resentment218, either toward me or toward each other. In intensity219 and briefness the gust220 of passion which swept through the little church was precisely221 like the squalls of wind and rain which darken the seas of the Low Archipelago in the midst of the hurricane season, which burst almost from a clear sky and then as suddenly melt into pure sunlight again.
When I left the village to return to Soul-Eaters' Island Takiero was still playing the old border ballad222 on my ocharina. It had once been my favorite air for that instrument. I first heard it in northern France on a blustering223 winter evening when a brigade of English regiments224 was marching, under heavy shell fire, into one of the greatest battles of the war, to the music of pipes and drums. Humming the air now, 195 although I still feel a tightening225 of the nerves, a quickening of the pulses, it is not because of the old set of associations. They have been buried forever beneath a newer set. The village at Rutiaro comes into view, and I see Takiero, clutching a baby against her naked breast, standing in the midst of a crowd of turbulent women.
Should there be some other Polynesian scholar who wishes to pursue farther an inquiry into a curious practice of child adoption226 I would advise extreme caution at an atoll far on the southeasterly fringe of the Low Archipelago.
The place may easily be identified; for he will find there a young woman of barbaric beauty who will be playing "Conquer the North" on an ocharina.
点击收听单词发音
1 reminder | |
n.提醒物,纪念品;暗示,提示 | |
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2 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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3 hovering | |
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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4 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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5 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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6 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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7 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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8 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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9 appalled | |
v.使惊骇,使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的;丧胆的 | |
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10 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
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11 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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12 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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13 hip | |
n.臀部,髋;屋脊 | |
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14 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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15 flora | |
n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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16 fauna | |
n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物,动物区系 | |
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17 rebuked | |
责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 rustling | |
n. 瑟瑟声,沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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19 fronds | |
n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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20 monograph | |
n.专题文章,专题著作 | |
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21 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
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22 starry | |
adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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23 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
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24 immortal | |
adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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25 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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26 germane | |
adj.关系密切的,恰当的 | |
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27 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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28 embodied | |
v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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29 prop | |
vt.支撑;n.支柱,支撑物;支持者,靠山 | |
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30 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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31 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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32 lament | |
n.悲叹,悔恨,恸哭;v.哀悼,悔恨,悲叹 | |
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33 vindictive | |
adj.有报仇心的,怀恨的,惩罚的 | |
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34 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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35 rambles | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
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36 inaccessible | |
adj.达不到的,难接近的 | |
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37 maudlin | |
adj.感情脆弱的,爱哭的 | |
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38 appraising | |
v.估价( appraise的现在分词 );估计;估量;评价 | |
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39 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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40 gregarious | |
adj.群居的,喜好群居的 | |
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41 dwellers | |
n.居民,居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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42 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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43 quotation | |
n.引文,引语,语录;报价,牌价,行情 | |
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44 scantly | |
缺乏地,仅仅 | |
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45 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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46 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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47 earrings | |
n.耳环( earring的名词复数 );耳坠子 | |
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48 bracelets | |
n.手镯,臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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49 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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50 makers | |
n.制造者,制造商(maker的复数形式) | |
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51 bouquet | |
n.花束,酒香 | |
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52 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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53 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
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54 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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55 parental | |
adj.父母的;父的;母的 | |
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56 saturated | |
a.饱和的,充满的 | |
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57 amicable | |
adj.和平的,友好的;友善的 | |
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58 missionaries | |
n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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59 denominations | |
n.宗派( denomination的名词复数 );教派;面额;名称 | |
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60 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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61 coconut | |
n.椰子 | |
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62 lagoon | |
n.泻湖,咸水湖 | |
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63 intervals | |
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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64 secular | |
n.牧师,凡人;adj.世俗的,现世的,不朽的 | |
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65 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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66 perspiring | |
v.出汗,流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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67 exhorting | |
v.劝告,劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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68 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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69 oratorical | |
adj.演说的,雄辩的 | |
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70 foretold | |
v.预言,预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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72 lucidity | |
n.明朗,清晰,透明 | |
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73 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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74 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
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75 rumbled | |
发出隆隆声,发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 轰鸣着缓慢行进; 发现…的真相; 看穿(阴谋) | |
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76 vacancy | |
n.(旅馆的)空位,空房,(职务的)空缺 | |
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77 abruptness | |
n. 突然,唐突 | |
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78 ferocious | |
adj.凶猛的,残暴的,极度的,十分强烈的 | |
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79 scowl | |
vi.(at)生气地皱眉,沉下脸,怒视;n.怒容 | |
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80 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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81 condemning | |
v.(通常因道义上的原因而)谴责( condemn的现在分词 );宣判;宣布…不能使用;迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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82 auditors | |
n.审计员,稽核员( auditor的名词复数 );(大学课程的)旁听生 | |
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83 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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84 plantation | |
n.种植园,大农场 | |
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85 conversing | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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86 scruples | |
n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 );顾虑,顾忌v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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87 hymns | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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88 bass | |
n.男低音(歌手);低音乐器;低音大提琴 | |
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89 cadence | |
n.(说话声调的)抑扬顿挫 | |
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90 parasite | |
n.寄生虫;寄生菌;食客 | |
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91 moody | |
adj.心情不稳的,易怒的,喜怒无常的 | |
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92 ethical | |
adj.伦理的,道德的,合乎道德的 | |
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93 futile | |
adj.无效的,无用的,无希望的 | |
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94 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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95 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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96 superstitions | |
迷信,迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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97 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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98 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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99 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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100 abreast | |
adv.并排地;跟上(时代)的步伐,与…并进地 | |
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101 capering | |
v.跳跃,雀跃( caper的现在分词 );蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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102 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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103 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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104 hoisted | |
把…吊起,升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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106 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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107 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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108 lessened | |
减少的,减弱的 | |
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109 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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110 depreciate | |
v.降价,贬值,折旧 | |
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111 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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112 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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113 subsided | |
v.(土地)下陷(因在地下采矿)( subside的过去式和过去分词 );减弱;下降至较低或正常水平;一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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114 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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115 harmonious | |
adj.和睦的,调和的,和谐的,协调的 | |
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116 trumpet | |
n.喇叭,喇叭声;v.吹喇叭,吹嘘 | |
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117 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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118 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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119 requite | |
v.报酬,报答 | |
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120 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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121 offset | |
n.分支,补偿;v.抵消,补偿 | |
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122 civilizing | |
v.使文明,使开化( civilize的现在分词 ) | |
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123 disparaging | |
adj.轻蔑的,毁谤的v.轻视( disparage的现在分词 );贬低;批评;非难 | |
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124 schooner | |
n.纵帆船 | |
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125 refreshments | |
n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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126 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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127 rascal | |
n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
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128 ruffled | |
adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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129 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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130 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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131 landslide | |
n.(竞选中)压倒多数的选票;一面倒的胜利 | |
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132 offshore | |
adj.海面的,吹向海面的;adv.向海面 | |
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133 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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134 intoxication | |
n.wild excitement;drunkenness;poisoning | |
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135 administrator | |
n.经营管理者,行政官员 | |
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136 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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137 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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138 versus | |
prep.以…为对手,对;与…相比之下 | |
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139 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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140 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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141 glutted | |
v.吃得过多( glut的过去式和过去分词 );(对胃口、欲望等)纵情满足;使厌腻;塞满 | |
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142 encumbered | |
v.妨碍,阻碍,拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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143 attics | |
n. 阁楼 | |
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144 insistent | |
adj.迫切的,坚持的 | |
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145 vocation | |
n.职业,行业 | |
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146 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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147 alcoholic | |
adj.(含)酒精的,由酒精引起的;n.酗酒者 | |
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148 beverages | |
n.饮料( beverage的名词复数 ) | |
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149 prohibition | |
n.禁止;禁令,禁律 | |
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150 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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151 animate | |
v.赋于生命,鼓励;adj.有生命的,有生气的 | |
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152 fluted | |
a.有凹槽的 | |
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153 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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154 trumpets | |
喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 ); 小号; 喇叭形物; (尤指)绽开的水仙花 | |
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155 cymbals | |
pl.铙钹 | |
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156 prettily | |
adv.优美地;可爱地 | |
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157 wry | |
adj.讽刺的;扭曲的 | |
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158 corks | |
n.脐梅衣;软木( cork的名词复数 );软木塞 | |
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159 authentic | |
a.真的,真正的;可靠的,可信的,有根据的 | |
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160 furtive | |
adj.鬼鬼崇崇的,偷偷摸摸的 | |
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161 evasion | |
n.逃避,偷漏(税) | |
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162 distractions | |
n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 );娱乐,消遣;心烦意乱;精神错乱 | |
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163 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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164 vexed | |
adj.争论不休的;(指问题等)棘手的;争论不休的问题;烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
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165 scribbled | |
v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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166 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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167 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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168 thatch | |
vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部;n.茅草(屋) | |
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169 offense | |
n.犯规,违法行为;冒犯,得罪 | |
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170 desecration | |
n. 亵渎神圣, 污辱 | |
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171 sardines | |
n. 沙丁鱼 | |
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172 tenor | |
n.男高音(歌手),次中音(乐器),要旨,大意 | |
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173 wagons | |
n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 );铁路货车;小手推车 | |
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174 hitching | |
搭乘; (免费)搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 ); 搭便车; 攀上; 跃上 | |
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175 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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176 catering | |
n. 给养 | |
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177 mashed | |
a.捣烂的 | |
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178 hospitable | |
adj.好客的;宽容的;有利的,适宜的 | |
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179 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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180 replenished | |
补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 ); 重新装满 | |
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181 gravy | |
n.肉汁;轻易得来的钱,外快 | |
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182 participation | |
n.参与,参加,分享 | |
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183 affluent | |
adj.富裕的,富有的,丰富的,富饶的 | |
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184 sumptuous | |
adj.豪华的,奢侈的,华丽的 | |
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185 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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186 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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187 splendor | |
n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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188 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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189 incompetence | |
n.不胜任,不称职 | |
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190 automobiles | |
n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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191 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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192 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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193 gratuitous | |
adj.无偿的,免费的;无缘无故的,不必要的 | |
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194 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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195 proprietary | |
n.所有权,所有的;独占的;业主 | |
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196 proxy | |
n.代理权,代表权;(对代理人的)委托书;代理人 | |
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197 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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198 smothered | |
(使)窒息, (使)透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 ); 覆盖; 忍住; 抑制 | |
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199 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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200 maternal | |
adj.母亲的,母亲般的,母系的,母方的 | |
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201 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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202 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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203 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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204 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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205 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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206 hybrid | |
n.(动,植)杂种,混合物 | |
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207 temperate | |
adj.温和的,温带的,自我克制的,不过分的 | |
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208 bristled | |
adj. 直立的,多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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209 snarling | |
v.(指狗)吠,嗥叫, (人)咆哮( snarl的现在分词 );咆哮着说,厉声地说 | |
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210 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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211 poked | |
v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 );戳出;拨弄;与(某人)性交 | |
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212 inquisitive | |
adj.求知欲强的,好奇的,好寻根究底的 | |
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213 wasps | |
黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 ); 胡蜂; 易动怒的人; 刻毒的人 | |
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214 awakened | |
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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215 reassuringly | |
ad.安心,可靠 | |
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216 bellowed | |
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的过去式和过去分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
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217 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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218 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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219 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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220 gust | |
n.阵风,突然一阵(雨、烟等),(感情的)迸发 | |
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221 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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222 ballad | |
n.歌谣,民谣,流行爱情歌曲 | |
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223 blustering | |
adj.狂风大作的,狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 );咆哮;(风)呼啸;狂吹 | |
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224 regiments | |
(军队的)团( regiment的名词复数 ); 大量的人或物 | |
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225 tightening | |
上紧,固定,紧密 | |
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226 adoption | |
n.采用,采纳,通过;收养 | |
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