When the people of the Society Islands accepted Christianity a century ago they did so with reservations 278 of which the missionaries13, perhaps, were not aware. Here and there, as at Faatoai on Moorea, there was a burning of idols14, but a great mass of material—old gods and heathen weapons—was stored in secure hiding places among the hills. To-day, after three generations of increasing European influence, hundreds of natives know of these caves and repair to them for purposes of their own, yet a white man might spend his life on Tahiti without a glimpse of a cinnet-bound orooro or a slender ironwood spear.
My friend Airima is typical. The widow of a Yankee skipper, the owner of a neat wooden villa15 in Papeete, where she appears regularly, on her way to church, in shoes, stockings, and a black-silk gown, she finds it necessary, from time to time, to cast off the unnatural16 manners of Europe and live as she was meant to live; to be herself, an elderly and delightful17 savage18. When the mood comes she closes the villa in Papeete, gathers the willing members of her family, and repairs to her native house, far off on the peninsula of Taiarapu.
The house of Airima stands on the river bank, shaded by a pair of mango trees, dark green and immemorially old. The roof is thatched with braided fronds19 of coconut20; breezes play through the lofty single room, bare of furniture and floored with mats spread on white coral gravel21, leveled and packed. Past the veranda22, on which the family sleeps through the warm hours of the day, the river flows out gently to the sea; a broad, still water, deep and glassy clear, peopled with darting23 shoals of fish—mullet, young pampano, and nato, the trout24 of the South Seas. Opposite the river mouth the reef is broken by a pass, through which the steady lines of combers sweep in to crash and tumble on the 279 bar. Morning and afternoon the breakers are alive with naked children, shouting and glistening25 brown in the sunlight as they ride the waves.
Inland, the valley marking the river's course is lost in a maze26 of broken and fantastic peaks; seaward, bordering the green and blue of the lagoon27, the snowy line of the reef stretches off endlessly; and beyond a three-league expanse of bright sea the headlands of Tahiti Nui rise in vast, swelling28 curves, up and up to the perpetual clouds which veil the heights. Under a bright sun at midday, when the palm tops toss to the trade which paints the lagoon—in the deep passes and over the patches of sandy bottom—with ruffled29 sapphire30 and emerald, and sets the whitecaps to dancing beyond the reef, or in the calm of night, with the moon hanging low over pinnacles31 of basalt—when the polished surface of the lagoon is broken by the plunge32 and swirl33 of heavy fish, and native songs, rising and falling in savage cadences34, float out across the water—it is a place not easily forgotten.
It was still dark when we rose—Maruae and I; the brothers of Maruae had returned from the reef, and the ovens behind the cook house were smoking, for in these places the hour of the day's first meal is set by the return of the fishermen. I took one shuddering35 plunge into the river, dressed myself in a shirt, a waistcloth, and a pair of hobnailed boots, and squatted36 with the rest to consume a fresh-caught mackerel and a section of breadfruit, dipped in the common bowl of sauce.
Maruae sucked his fingers and stood up, calling to the dogs. Airima glanced at me over the back of a large fish she was gnawing38, holding it with both hands. 280 "Go, you two," she said. "You stay," replied Maruae, as he turned to take the path to the mountains. The oceanic tongue possesses no other words of parting.
We followed the river across the flatlands of the coast. Dawn was flushing in the east; the profile of lofty ridges39, fern clad and incredibly serrated, grew sharp against the sky. The mynahs were awakening41; from the thick foliage42 of orange and mango trees came their extraordinary morning chorus—a thousand voices, whistling, screaming, and chattering43 that it was time the assembly broke up for the foraging44 of another day. In one place, where a turn of the path brought us suddenly to the edge of a still reach of water, a pair of native ducks (Anas superciliosa) rose vertically45 on beating wings and sped off over the palm tops. A little farther on, where volcanic46 bowlders began to appear through the alluvial47 soil and the river leaped and foamed48 over the first rapids, a family of Tahitian jungle fowl49, led by a splendid burnished50 cock, sprang out of the grass and streamed away, in easy, rapid flight, toward the hills. The dogs bounded forward and stopped, whining51 as they watched the wild chickens dwindle52 to speeding dots.
The groves53 of coconut palms and open pasture land were behind us now; the valley was narrowing, hemmed54 in by thousand-foot cliffs to which a tangle55 of vegetation clung. The river had become a torrent56, boiling and waist deep—plunging over cataracts57, roaring down dark rapids under a roof of matted trees: giant hibiscus a yard through, too remote to tempt10 the ax of the canoe builder; candle nut, Barringtonia, and mapé, the island chestnut58, with boles like fluted59 columns of a temple. The trail wound back and forth60, 281 across the river, over the trunks of fallen trees, around masses of rock tumbled from the cliffs above, mounting higher and higher into the heart of the island. Once, as we stopped to rest, I looked back and caught a glimpse of the sea—a wedge of blue, far behind us and below. The dogs had begun to range ahead, for they knew that any moment we might start a sounder of wild pig. I was growing tired—it was not easy to follow Maruae at his own gait. He walked with the rapid, springy tread of a mountain man; when he stooped to clear a low-branching limb or lopped off a section of creeper with an easy swing of his machete I admired the play of muscles on his back, rippling61 powerfully under the smooth, brown skin. Silken and unblemished—unless it be by scars—the skin of these people is not like ours, but softer and closer in texture62; seeming, like marble, to glimmer63 with reflected light.
The gorge64 grew narrower; we rounded a buttress65 of jointed66 basalt and came suddenly into the light and open of a lonely valley. A quarter of a mile wide and twice as long, set high above the sea, and hemmed in by untrodden ridges, it lay here uninhabited and forgotten, in a silence broken only by the roar of savage cataracts and the far-off bellowing67 of wild bulls. Yet man had been here. Along the base of the cliffs we found the terraced stone of his dwellings69, the blocks of volcanic rock pried70 apart by the roots of huge old trees.
Maruae was squatting71 on his heels beside me, contemplating72 in silence these relics73 of an older time. Finally he turned his head. "Those stones are very old," he remarked; "they have been here always, since the beginning. Men placed them there and men 282 slept on them, but not the men of my people." My thoughts dwelt on the old idle tales I had heard—of the Lizard74 men, of the dark-skinned aborigines, the Manahune, said to have been in possession of the land when the eyes of Polynesian voyagers first rested on cloudy Orofena. There were other tales, too, of a later day; of a tribe of men dwelling68 in the valleys, neither tasting fish nor setting foot on the beach except when, at certain intervals75, they were permitted to come down to worship by the sea. Even to-day it needs no effort of the imagination to see two distinct types among the island people: men and women of the kind one considers typically Polynesian—tall, clean limbed, and light brown, with clear, dark eyes, straight or waving hair, and heads not differing greatly from the heads of Europeans; and another kind, of a negroid or Melanesian cast—short, squat37, and many shades darker in complexion76, thick-lipped and apish, with muddy eyes, kinky hair, and flattened77, undeveloped heads. And, strangely enough, after more than a century of missions and leveling foreign influence, the dark and awkward people seem still to fill the humbler walks of life—they are the servants and dependents, the feeders of pigs, the carriers of wood and water. Great stature78, physical beauty, and light complexion are still the hall marks of aristocratic birth. Writing of the islands a hundred years ago, old Ellis, the often-quoted, closest observer of them all, remarked: "It is a singular fact in the physiology79 of the inhabitants of this part of the world that the chiefs, and persons of hereditary80 rank and influence of the islands, are, almost without exception, as much superior to the peasantry or common people in stateliness, dignified81 deportment, and physical 283 strength as they are in rank and circumstances, although they are not elected to their station on account of their personal endowments, but derive82 their rank and elevation83 from their ancestry84. This is the case with most of the groups of the Pacific, but peculiarly so in Tahiti and the adjacent isles87. The father of the late king was six feet four inches high; Pomare was six feet two. The present king of Raiatea is equally tall. ... Their limbs are generally well formed, and the whole figure is proportioned to their height, which renders the difference between the rulers and their subjects so striking that Bougainville and some others have supposed they were a distinct race, the descendants of a superior people, who at a remote period had conquered the aborigines and perpetuated88 their supremacy89." There is a curious inconsistency in the matter of complexion, for in the old days a dark skin was considered the sign of a strong, warlike, and masterly man. Ellis records an extract from an old song: "If dark be the complexion of the mother, the son will sound the conch shell"; and yet, on the same page, he observes that "the majority of the reigning90 family in Raiatea are not darker than the inhabitants of some parts of southern Europe."
While Maruae and I rested among the ruins of the ancient settlement the dogs had been more usefully engaged. My musings were disturbed by a sudden burst of squeals91, punctuated92 by excited yelpings. Maruae sprang to his feet, long knife in hand. It was only a small pig, a sixty-pounder, but he was bursting fat, stuffed with Vi apples fallen from the great tree under which he had been feeding. The dogs had him by the ears when we arrived; a thrust of the machete 284 put an end to his short and idyllic93 life. I hung him from a branch and skinned him while Maruae went off in search of fei. Presently he returned, carrying on his shoulder a stout94 pole of hibiscus, from either end of which swung a bunch of the mountain plantains, like huge, thick bananas, the size of quart bottles and bright yellowish red. There was a clump95 of palms near by, another sign, perhaps, of man's former occupation—the relics of unnumbered vegetable generations; we had coconuts96 to drink, pork and fei were at hand, and plenty of fresh-water crayfish to be had in the river. In the islands, the obtaining of food is always the signal for a meal. Maruae beckoned97 to me and led the way to the river, where he readjusted his waistcloth to leave a kind of apron98 hanging in front and plunged99 up to his armpits in the still water. With the apron spread as a trap for the darting crayfish, he moved slowly along the grassy100 and overhanging bank of the stream, stopping every moment or so to hand a struggling victim up to me. This little fresh-water lobster101 is one of the most delicious shellfish in the world—of the same dimensions as the French ecrivisse, and not unlike it in flavor. In fifteen minutes we had enough, and the work of preparing our meal began.
I gathered wood and started a fire against a face of rock. Maruae cut a section of giant bamboo, half filled it with water, threw in the crayfish, and stood it beside the fire to boil. Our meal was genuinely primitive102; I had cigarettes, matches, and a paper of salt stowed in the tuck of my pareu—excepting our knives, we had nothing else that the rudest of savages103 might not have possessed104. Turning up the earth with his 285 machete, my companion scraped out a shallow trench—a Maori oven. He set a ring of stones about the edge, lined the inside with pebbles106, and filled the whole with coals from our camp-fire. While the coals glowed, heating the earth and stones, he cut off a loin and hind-quarter of pork, wrapped the meat carefully in plantain leaves, and selected half a dozen of the riper plantains for our meal. Finally, when the oven was thoroughly107 hot, he scraped away the coals from the middle, laid in the leaf-wrapped pork, surrounded by a ring of plantains, pushed the hot stones close to the food, and covered the whole with a thick layer of plantain leaves. We ate the crayfish—boiled to a bright scarlet—while the balance of our meal was cooking. I added salt to the boiled-down liquor in the bottom of the bamboo, and dipped in this natural sauce. The first course whetted108 our appetites for the tender meat and juicy plantains which soon came from the oven.
As we lay smoking after our meal I could see that Maruae had something in his mind and was debating whether or not to speak. Finally he began, cautiously and with an air of skeptical109 restraint at first, but with more and more assurance as he saw that I listened seriously to his story.
"The old people say," he remarked, pointing to the head of the valley, where the cliffs narrowed to a deep crack through which the river rushed, "that far up in this same valley, beyond the upper gorge you see, a spirit dwells, one of the heathen spirits which are as old as the land. You and I may not believe in these things, but it is good, when the evenings are long, to listen to the stories of the old men. The name of this spirit is Tefatu; some call him varua ino, saying that he 286 dogs the footsteps of the living and preys110 upon the souls of the newly dead, but that is not true, for many times in the memory of my fathers he has been known to aid those in perplexity or distress111. The old men believe that if a traveler, lost in these mountains at nightfall, calls on Tefatu for succor112, the spirit will appear before him in the likeness113 of a pale, moving fire, and lead him in safety down to the sea. Once in sight of the sea, the man must cry out in a loud voice, 'You have aided me, Tefatu, and I am content; stop here and I will go on my way.' It is not good to neglect these words of parting. Sometimes he is seen at night, flying from ridge40 to ridge of the mountain—a great glowing head, trailing a thin body of fire. Long ago, during the childhood of my grandmother, Tefatu left this land for a space of years; men said that he had flown to Hawaii, but now he is returned beyond a doubt. High up among the cliffs I found the cave in which he sleeps by day.... These eyes of mine have seen the Old Lord lying there among the whitened heads of men—I looked and turned away quickly, for my stomach was cold with fear.
"I cannot tell you clearly," Maruae went on, in answer to my obvious question, "for I was greatly afraid. It seemed to me that he was a figure of wood, longer and thinner than a man, black with age, covered with carved patterns, and bound, in places, with close wrappings of napé—the fine sennit my people have forgotten how to make. The place was full of bones; scores of men had been slain114 and their bodies offered there, as was the custom of our old kings. Once, not many years ago, a wise man came here from the islands of Hawaii—an old man, bearded and wearing spectacles. 287 It was his work to write down the names of our ancestors, and he spoke115 our tongue, though haltingly and with a strange twist. He lived with us for a time and we grew fond of him, for he was a simple man, who made us laugh with his jokes and was kind to the children. One evening I told him how I had found the place of Tefatu. As I spoke his eyes grew bright behind their windows of glass, and when I had done he begged me, in great excitement, to lead him to the cave—offering a hundred of your dollars if I could prove that I had spoken true words. I was younger then, and in need of money, for I was courting a girl. We went together into the mountains, but as we drew near the place something within me made me hesitate and I grew afraid. In the end I deceived that man who was my friend, telling him that I could not find the way. He was indeed a wise man; another would have mocked me for a liar86 and a teller116 of idle tales, but he only smiled, looking at me kindly117—he knew that my words were true and that I feared to betray the sleeping place of the Old Lord."
Maruae rose to his feet with the sigh of a man who has eaten well and is deprived of his rightful siesta118. He shouldered his ponderous119 load of fei—which I could scarcely raise from the ground—and led the way toward the sea, while I followed, bearing the remnants of the pig. It was noon when we reached the flatlands of the coast.
A quarter of a mile above the house of Airima we stopped to watch a large canoe, loaded with a mound120 of seine, gliding121 up the river, followed by a fleet of smaller craft. An old woman stood in the bow, directing the proceedings122 with shrill123 volubility; she 288 was the proprietor124 of the net, a village character at once kindly and tyrannical—widow of one chief and mother of another. As her canoe drew abreast125 of us she gave the command to halt and spread the net. The river at this point is almost without current, very still and clear; Maruae and I sat on the high bank, too tired to do more than play the part of spectators.
They grounded the big canoe just below where we sat, putting one end of the seine ashore126 and paddling slowly across the river while the net was laid out in a deep, sagging127 curve downstream. One after another the smaller canoes were beached, and the people, half naked and carrying spears, ran along the bank to take to the water a few hundred yards above. The river was alive with them, splashing and shouting as they drove the fish toward the trap. Next moment the bright shoals began to appear beneath us, the sunlight glinting on burnished sides as they darted128 this way and that by hundreds, seeking a way of escape. A run of mullet flashed downstream, saw the net, turned, and were headed back toward the sea. A series of cries went up—"Aué! Aué!"—as fifty or sixty of the beautiful silvery fish leaped the line of floats and dashed away to safety. The old headwoman, dressed in a Mother Hubbard of respectable black and a rather handsome hat, was swimming easily in three fathoms130 of water; nothing escaped her watchful131 eye.
"E ara!" she shouted, angrily; "the best fish are getting away! Hurry, you lazy ones—splash the water below the net, or we shall not have a mullet left! Remember that when the haul is over he who has not worked shall have no fish."
As the line of beaters drew near, the men in the big 289 canoe paddled upstream and across behind them, throwing out net as they went, until the frightened fish and a score of swimmers were encircled. The two ends of the seine were now close together on the bank, and half a dozen men began to haul in with a will, their efforts causing the circle to narrow slowly and steadily132. Looking down from the high bank, one could see children of ten or twelve, stark133 naked, and carrying tiny spears in their hands, swimming like frogs a fathom129 deep in the clear water, pursuing the darting fish. Now and then a youngster came to the surface with a shrill cry of triumph, holding aloft the toy spear on which was transfixed a six-inch fish. The people of the islands, as a rule, are neither fast nor showy swimmers; one can see prettier swimming any summer afternoon on the Long Island shore, but the Polynesian is at home in the water in a way the white man can never match. I watched an old woman, all of seventy and wearing a black blouse girded tightly to her waist with a pareu, treading water at the lower end of the net, where the fish were beginning to concentrate. She was as much at her ease as though she had been lying on her veranda exchanging gossip with a neighbor. Each time she thought the headwoman's eyes were turned away she reached over the net, seized a fish, and stuffed it into her blouse, until a flapping bulge134 hung down over her pareu. But old Tinomana's eyes were sharp. "Enough," she cried, half laughing and half in anger, "aué, tera vahine e! Perhaps she thought to get a string of fish, too, for that worthless son-in-law of hers!"
At length the seine lay in two great piles on the beach, and only a bulging135 pocket, filled with a pulsating136 mass of silver, remained in the river. Under the 290 direction of Tinomana the fish were divided into little piles, strung on bits of hibiscus bark, and apportioned137 among the people, according to the size of their families and the amount of help they had given in the haul. For herself she reserved a considerable share, for her household was large, and as the owner of the net she was entitled to a full half—more than she loaded into the big canoe.
It was early afternoon when we laid down our burdens in the cook house and stripped for a swim. The others were awakening from their siesta; a flock of brown children, all vaguely138 related to the family of Airima, followed us to the river, carrying miniature surf boards. Next moment they were in the water, splashing and shouting as they paddled downstream toward where the surf broke on the bar. Tehinatu, the pretty sister of Maruae, passed us with a rush and leaped feet first from the high bank. She rose to the surface thirty yards away, shouting a challenge to catch her before she could reach the opposite shore. Her brother and I dove together, raced across the river, and had nearly overtaken the girl when she went under like a grebe. I was no match for her at this game; under water she could swim as fast as I, and was a hundred times more at home. I gave up the pursuit and landed for a sunning among the warm rocks of the point.
Out where the seas reared for the landward rush the black heads of children appeared and disappeared; I could hear the joyous139 screams of others, flattened on their boards and racing140 toward me, buried in flying spray. The old woman I had seen helping141 herself to fish was coming down the river, paddling an incredibly 291 small canoe, laden142 with an enormous bunch of bananas and four kerosene143 tins of water. She lived a mile down the coast and, like many of her neighbors, braved the surf daily to supply her house with fresh water from the river. The gunwale of her canoe seemed to clear the water by no more than a couple of inches; I watched with some anxiety, thinking of the feelings of an American grandmother in the same situation.
She ceased to paddle at the river mouth and watched her chance, while the frail144 dugout rose and fell in the wash of half a dozen big seas. Then in a momentary145 lull146 she dug her paddle into the water. I sat up to watch; a boy standing147 in the shallows near by shouted encouragement. At first I thought that she had chosen her moment well. The canoe passed the white water, topped a little wave without swamping, and was seemingly out of danger; but suddenly a treacherous148 sea sprang up from nowhere, rearing a tossing crest149. It was too late to retreat—certain disaster lay ahead. Stoically, without a sign of dismay, the paddler held her craft bow on; the canoe rose wildly against the foaming150 wall, seemed to hang for an instant almost vertically, and then canoe, cargo151, and old woman disappeared in the froth. The boy screamed in ecstasy152 as he galloped153 through the shallows to lend a hand. The other children ceased their play and soon the canoe and its recovered cargo were brought ashore. They emptied the dugout and filled the tins with fresh water; I heard the old woman laugh shrilly154 as she wrung155 her clothes on the beach. Presently, coached by a dozen amused spectators, she made a second attempt, and passed the surf without a wetting; when I saw her last she was paddling off steadily to the west.
292 I was dozing156 among the rocks when a ringing whistle startled me and I looked up to see a bird like a large sandpiper alight on the beach and begin to feed, running briskly after the receding157 waves or springing into the air for a short flight when threatened by a rush of water. It was a wandering tattler, and no bird was ever better named. Solitary158 in its habits, except in the breeding season, when it resorts to northern lands so remote that its nest and eggs are still (I believe) unknown, it travels south at the approach of winter, making lonely passages across some of the widest stretches of ocean in the world ... to Hawaii, to the Galapagos, to the Marquesas, and probably to the remote southern islands of Polynesia. What obscure sense enables the migrating bird to follow its course far out of sight of land? In France, I have flown side by side with wild geese, heading steadily southward above a sea of clouds. It seemed to me that—like the pilot of an airplane—they might guide themselves, in a general way, by the sun, the stars, or the look of the land below—an idea borne out by the fact that geese become lost and confused in a fog. But in considering a bird like the carrier pigeon or the tattler, all such theorizing comes to an end. No general sense of north and south could guide the tattler to the lonely landfalls of the South Pacific; his wanderings—like the migration159 of the golden plover160, or the instinct of the shearwater, which sends him unerringly, on the darkest night of storm, to his individual burrow161 in the cliffs—must be classed among the inexplicable162 mysteries of nature.
On the road which passes close to the house of Airima I found Tehinatu in conversation with the driver of a 293 Chinese cart. She was bargaining for a watermelon; the Chinaman stood out for three francs—she offered two.
"Enough of talking," she said, firmly; "the melon is the best you have, but it is green. I will give two francs."
"A toru toata," muttered the proprietor of the melon, indifferently. ("Toata" means a franc, but is obviously a corruption163 of quarter, for the dollar passed current here long before the money of France.)
"Look at my clothes," pleaded the deceitful girl, changing her tactics suddenly. "I am a poor woman who cannot afford to pay the prices you expect from the chief. Come, dear Tinito, give me the melon for two francs."
The Chinaman shrugged164 his shoulders and glanced at me. The glint in his narrow eye might have meant, "Ah, these women—what's the use!" He sighed; for a moment, while Tehinatu looked at him pleadingly, he was silent.
"Take the melon," he said, "and give me two francs; I must be on my way. But do not think you have deceived me, cunning woman; I know that you are not poor, for only yesterday your brother sold the copra from your land."
Without a sign of embarrassment165 the girl opened her hand and held up a hundred-franc note. "Ah, you are rich," remarked the Chinaman, as he undid166 an oilcloth wallet and stripped the change from a substantial roll of bills. "I knew it. Are you not ashamed to practice such deceit?" But Tehinatu only tucked the melon under her arm with a triumphant167 smile.
It is a curious study to watch the contact of Chinese and Polynesian, races separated by the most profound 294 of gulfs, yet possessing the meeting ground of a common love of bargaining. All through the French islands you will find Chinamen, scattered168 singly or in little groups—through the windward and leeward169 Societies; the Marquesas; among the distant atolls of the Paumotu; in the remote Gambiers; in Tupuai, Rurutu, and lonely Rimatara. They are keepers of small stores, for the most part, where you may see them interrupted at their eternal task of copra making to exchange a box of matches for a single coconut or to haggle170 for a quarter of an hour over a matter of five sous. Patient, painstaking171, and unobtrusive—existing in inconceivable squalor, without the common pleasures which enable most of us to tolerate our lives—they seem to be impelled172 by motives173 far more profound than the longing174 for material gain, by a species of idealism equally incomprehensible to the native and to the visitor of European race. It is not beyond possibility that in the course of a few more generations it will be the native islander who lingers here and there, isolated175 in communities principally Chinese; for the islanders, superb physically176, are the least prolific177 of men, while the weedy little Tinito, who brings his own women with him, or succeeds, with his own peculiar85 knack178, in obtaining women from a population which regards him with amused contempt, surrounds himself with children in as short a time as nature allows. I have sometimes thought that the secret of the Chinaman's dogged and self-denying labors180 might lie here—traceable to his cult181 of ancestor worship: to become a revered182 ancestor one must have children, and in order to bring up properly a large family of children one must spend one's life in unceasing toil183.
295 I doubt that Europeans in large numbers will ever be tempted to make the islands their home; the life is too alien, the change too great. As things are, the relation of Polynesian and Chinese amounts to a subtle contest for the land—a struggle of which both parties are aware. The native, incapable184 of abstract thought, feels and resents it vaguely; to the Chinaman, whose days are spent in meditation185 undisturbed by the automatic labors of his body, the issue is no doubt clear cut. The native is by far the more attractive of the two—clean, kindly, selfish, jolly, childish, well bred, and pleasing to the eye; but the Chinaman possesses the less attractive qualities which make for the survival of a race—the industry, the unselfishness, the capacity to live for an idea—and in the end, if only by force of numbers, he will win. Looking into the future, one can see the Eastern islands populated by Chinese, as our own islands of Hawaii have been peopled with immigrants from Japan. "They are dying, anyway, and they won't work," the commercial gentleman will tell you; "here is rich cane186 land, needing only labor179 to produce bountifully—and the world needs sugar." Perhaps this view is correct—for myself, I feel that the question is debatable. There are certain parts of the world—like our American mountains, deserts, and lonely stretches of coast—which seem planned for the spiritual refreshment187 of mankind; places from which one carries away a new serenity188 and the sense of a yearning189 for beauty satisfied. Ever since the days of Cook the islands of the South Sea have charmed the white man—explorers, naturalists190, traders, and the rough crews of whaling vessels191; the strange beauty of these little lands, insignificant192 so far 296 as commercial exploitation is concerned, seems worthy193 of preservation194. And the native, paddling his outlandish canoe or lounging in picturesque195 attitudes before his house, is indispensable to the scene. If the day comes when his canoe lies rotting on the beach and his house is tenanted by industrious196 Chinese—though the same jagged peaks rise against the sky and the same sea thunders lazily along the reef—when the anchor drops and the call comes to go ashore, I, for one, shall hesitate.
In the Cook group, six hundred miles west of Tahiti, the prospect197 is less depressing, for the British have adopted a policy of exclusion198 and made it impossible for the native to sell his land. The Cook-Islander, reinforced here and there with a dash of white blood, and undiscouraged by a competition he is not fitted to meet, seems to be holding his own. The reason is clear—the native has been little tampered199 with, left in possession of his land, and protected rigidly200 against epidemics201 like the influenza202 of 1918, which ravaged203 the island populations wherever infected vessels were permitted to touch. Imported disease, exploitation of the land, and coolie immigration—these are the destroying forces from which the native must be preserved if a shadow of the old charm is to linger for the enjoyment204 of future generations of travelers.
Following Tehinatu toward the house, I thought to myself how wonderfully the island charm had been preserved here on the peninsula of Taiarapu. We were within fifty miles of Papeete, where business is carried on, and steamers call, and perspiring205 tourists walk briskly about the streets; yet here, in this lonely settlement by the lagoon, civilization seemed half a 297 world away. When I walked abroad the sight of a white man brought the people to their doors, and bands of children followed me, staring and bright eyed, with interest.
On the veranda children surrounded us while the girl cut and distributed thin slices of her melon. There is a fascination206 in watching these youngsters, brought up without clothes and without restraint, in an environment nearly as friendly as that of the original human pair. Once they are weaned from their mothers' breasts—which often does not occur until they have reached an age of two and a half or three—the children of the islands are left practically to shift for themselves; there is food in the house, a place to sleep, and a scrap105 of clothing if the weather be cool—that is the extent of parental207 responsibility. The child eats when it pleases, sleeps when and where it will, amuses itself with no other resources than its own. As it grows older certain light duties are expected of it—gathering fruit, lending a hand with fishing, cleaning the ground about the house—but the command to work is casually208 given and as casually obeyed. Punishment is scarcely known; yet under a system which would ruin forever an American or English child the brown youngster flourishes with astonishingly little friction—sweet tempered, cheerful, never bored, and seldom quarrelsome. The small boy tugs209 at the net or gathers bait for the fishermen, seemingly without a thought of drudgery210; the small girl tends her smaller sister in the spirit of playing with a doll. Perhaps the restless and aggressive spirit which makes discipline necessary in bringing up our own children is the very quality that has made the white race master of the world; 298 perhaps the more hostile surroundings of civilization have made necessary the enforcement of prohibitory laws.
I filled my pipe and lay smoking on a mat, with an eye on the youngsters at their play. For the time being, a little girl, at the most attractive period of childhood, was the center of interest. One of her front teeth was loose; she had tied a bit of bark to it and was summoning up courage for a determined211 pull. A boy stole up behind her, reached over her shoulder, and gave the merciful jerk; next moment he was dancing around her, waving the strip of bark to which the tooth was still attached. The owner of the tooth began to sob212, holding a hand over her mouth, but her lamentations ceased when a larger boy shouted, seriously, "Give her the tooth and let her speak to the rat!" The small girl trotted213 to the edge of the bush, where I heard her repeat a brief invocation before she flung the tooth into a thicket214 of hibiscus. I knew what she was saying, for I had made inquiries215 concerning this children's custom—probably as old as it is quaint216. It is a sort of exchange; the baby tooth is thrown among the bushes and the rat is invoked217 to replace it with one as white and durable218 as his own. The child says:
"Thy tooth, thy tooth, O rat, give to the man;
The tooth, the tooth of the man, I give to the rat."
No doubt the games of children everywhere are very much the same; in the islands, at any rate, an American child would soon find itself at home. The boys walk on stilts219, play tag, blindman's buff, prisoner's base, 299 and a game called Pere Pana, like what we called Pewee when I was a youngster in California—almost exactly as these things are done at home. The girls play cat's cradle, hopscotch220, jackstones, and jackstraws—often joining in the rougher games of their brothers. One curious game, evidently modern, and perhaps originated by the children of missionaries, is called Pere Puaa Taehae (the Game of the Wild Beast). The boys and girls, who pretend to be sheep, stand in line one behind the other, clinging together under the protection of the mother ewe at the head of the line. Presently the wild beast appears, demanding a victim to eat. "You are the wild beast?" the sheep ask. "Yes," he replies, "and I want a male sheep." He then waits while the sheep—in whispers inaudible to him—decide on which boy (for the beast has his choice of sexes) shall be sacrificed. When the decision is made the mother at the head of the line says, "You want a male sheep?" At that, all the others chant in unison221, "Then take off your hat, and take off your clothes, and strike the hot iron." The last word is the signal for the victim to make a dash for safety; if he can get behind the mother before the wild beast catches him the performance is repeated until the beast succeeds in catching222 another boy or girl, who then becomes the Puaa Taehae.
The twelve-year-old daughter of Maruae—for Airima was a great-grandmother, not an uncommon223 thing in this land of rapid generations—had been talking for several days of piercing her ears in order to install a pair of earrings224 to which she had fallen heir. This evening she had finally mustered225 courage for the ordeal226; I watched her hesitating approach and saw 300 her hand Tehinatu the necessary instruments—a cork227, a pair of scissors, and a brace228 of sharp orange thorns from which the green bark had been carefully stripped. Whatever her color, woman's endurance in the name of vanity is proverbial; the child made no outcry as the thorn passed through the lobe229 of her ear, sank into the cork, and was snipped230 off, inside and out, close to the skin—the remaining section to be removed a fortnight later, when the small wound had healed. As Tehinatu smiled at me and flourished the scissors, to which clung a drop of blood, I heard a shrill call from the cook house, "Haere mai tamaa!" It was supper time.
Some of the children, in answer to the call, straggled toward where Airima squatted beside her oven; others, already stuffed with odds231 and ends of fruit, went on with their play. Maruae beckoned to me as he passed. The meal was a casual affair; one helped oneself without ceremony, squatting to exchange conversation between bites, or walked away, food in hand. There were pork, cold fish, baked taro232, and sections of cream-colored breadfruit, ripe and delicately cooked.
The sun had set when we finished, and as the sky gave promise of a clear night I spread a mat on the river bank. Bedtime in these places comes when drowsiness233 sets in; as I fell asleep the clouds veiling the highlands of Tahiti Nui were still luminous234 in the afterglow.
It was midnight when I awoke. In the house, faintly illuminated235 by the light of a turned-down lamp, the family of Airima slept. The air was warm and scented236 with the perfume of exotic flowers. The river was like a dark mirror reflecting the stars; even 301 the Pacific seemed to sleep, breathing gently in the sigh of little waves, dallying237 with the bar. Presently I became aware of subdued238 voices—Airima and Tinomana, the chief's mother, were seated on the rocks below me, fishing with long rods of bamboo for the faia which runs in with the night tide. They were recalling the past, as old ladies will.
"The women of Tahiti," remarked Tinomana, "are not what they were when I was young; nowadays you may travel from morning till night without seeing a really beautiful girl."
"Those are true words," said Airima; "Aué, if you had seen my eldest239 daughter, who died when she was fifteen! She was lovely as the itatae, the white tern which hovers240 above the tree tops. Her eyes were brown and laughing, her hair fell in ringlets to her knees, her teeth were small white pearls, and her laughter like the sound of cool water running in a shady place. Alas241, my Vahinetua! She was our first-born; my husband loved her as he loved none of the others. A strange, dreamy child.... I used to watch her when she thought herself alone. Sometimes, I know not why, the tears came to my eyes as I saw her gazing into the sky while she chanted under her breath the little old song the children sing to the tern:
"O Itatae, sailing above the still forest, where shall you fly to-night?
Downwind across the sea to Tetiaroa, the low island....
"As she grew older a wasting illness fell on her; the doctors could do nothing to stop her coughing; my husband even took her to the white doctor in Papeete—it was on his recommendation that we took her to sea. 302 We were in Mangareva, far off in the Gambier Islands, when I saw that the end was near. My husband was not blind—he headed back for Tahiti at once, giving up the rest of his trip. Vahinetua was never more beautiful than on the last morning of her life—cheeks flushed and eyes shining soft and clear as the first star of evening. We were nearly home—off Maitea, the little island which lies between Tahiti and Anaa; she died in my arms and I covered her with the bright patchwork242 tifaefae her own hands had sewn. 'Our child is dead,' I told the captain, her father, as I came on deck. He said nothing, but put a hand on my shoulder and pointed243 toward the masthead, where I saw a small white tern hovering244 above us. I cannot tell you how, but I knew at once the soul of my daughter was in that pretty bird. It flew with us all day, and at evening, as we entered the harbor of Papeete, it turned back and disappeared in the night. For many years thereafter, each time my husband passed Maitea homeward bound, the white bird was waiting for him at the place where my daughter had died...."
The voices of the old women murmured on, recalling the joys and sorrows of other days. Suddenly, in a mango tree behind the house, a rooster crowed, answered far and near by others of his kind. As the last drawn-out cry died in the silence of the night I yielded to an overpowering drowsiness and fell asleep.
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1
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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3
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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5
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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6
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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7
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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8
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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9
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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12
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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13
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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14
idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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15
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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16
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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17
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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18
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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19
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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20
coconut
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| n.椰子 | |
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21
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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22
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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23
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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24
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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25
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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26
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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27
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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28
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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29
ruffled
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| 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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30
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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31
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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32
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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33
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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34
cadences
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| n.（声音的）抑扬顿挫( cadence的名词复数 )；节奏；韵律；调子 | |
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35
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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36
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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37
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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38
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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39
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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40
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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41
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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42
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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43
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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44
foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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45
vertically
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| adv.垂直地 | |
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46
volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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47
alluvial
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| adj.冲积的；淤积的 | |
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48
foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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49
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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50
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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51
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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52
dwindle
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| v.逐渐变小（或减少） | |
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53
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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54
hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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55
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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56
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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57
cataracts
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| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
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58
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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59
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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60
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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61
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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62
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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63
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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64
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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65
buttress
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| n.支撑物；v.支持 | |
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66
jointed
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| 有接缝的 | |
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67
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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68
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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69
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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70
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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71
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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72
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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73
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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74
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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75
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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76
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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77
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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78
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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79
physiology
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| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
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80
hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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81
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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82
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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83
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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84
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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85
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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86
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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87
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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88
perpetuated
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| vt.使永存（perpetuate的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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89
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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90
reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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91
squeals
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| n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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92
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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93
idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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95
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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96
coconuts
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| n.椰子( coconut的名词复数 )；椰肉，椰果 | |
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97
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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99
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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100
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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101
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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102
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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103
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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104
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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105
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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106
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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107
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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108
whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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109
skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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110
preys
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| v.掠食( prey的第三人称单数 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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111
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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112
succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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113
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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114
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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115
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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116
teller
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| n.银行出纳员；(选举)计票员 | |
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117
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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118
siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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119
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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120
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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121
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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122
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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123
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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124
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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125
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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126
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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127
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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128
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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129
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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130
fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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131
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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132
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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133
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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134
bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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135
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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136
pulsating
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| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
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137
apportioned
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| vt.分摊，分配（apportion的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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138
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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139
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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140
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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141
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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142
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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143
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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144
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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145
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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146
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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147
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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148
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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149
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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150
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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151
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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152
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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153
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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154
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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155
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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156
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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157
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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158
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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159
migration
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| n.迁移，移居，（鸟类等的）迁徙 | |
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160
plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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161
burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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162
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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163
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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164
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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165
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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166
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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167
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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168
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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169
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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170
haggle
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| vi.讨价还价，争论不休 | |
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171
painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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172
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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173
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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174
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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175
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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176
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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177
prolific
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| adj.丰富的，大量的；多产的，富有创造力的 | |
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178
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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179
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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180
labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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181
cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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182
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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183
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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184
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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185
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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186
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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187
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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188
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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189
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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190
naturalists
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| n.博物学家( naturalist的名词复数 )；（文学艺术的）自然主义者 | |
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191
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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192
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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193
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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194
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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195
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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196
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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197
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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198
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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199
tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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200
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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201
epidemics
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| n．流行病 | |
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202
influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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203
ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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204
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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205
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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206
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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207
parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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208
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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209
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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210
drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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211
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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212
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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213
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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214
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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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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invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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durable
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| adj.持久的，耐久的 | |
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stilts
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| n.（支撑建筑物高出地面或水面的）桩子，支柱( stilt的名词复数 )；高跷 | |
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hopscotch
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| n.小孩独脚跳踢石子的游戏，“跳房子”游戏 | |
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unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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snipped
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| v.剪( snip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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dallying
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的现在分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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hovers
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| 鸟( hover的第三人称单数 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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241
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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242
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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