NO one saw the spirits of the bells up there in the old steeple at midnight on Christmas Eve. Six quaint1 figures, each wrapped in a shadowy cloak and wearing a bell-shaped cap. All were gray-headed, for they were among the oldest bell-spirits of the city, and “the light of other days” shone in their thoughtful eyes. Silently they sat, looking down on the snow-covered roofs glittering in the moonlight, and the quiet streets deserted2 by all but the watchmen on their chilly3 rounds, and such poor souls as wandered shelterless in the winter night. Presently one of the spirits said, in a tone, which, low as it was, filled the belfry with reverberating4 echoes,—
“Well, brothers, are your reports ready of the year that now lies dying?”
All bowed their heads, and one of the oldest answered in a sonorous6 voice:—
“My report isn’t all I could wish. You know I look down on the commercial part of our city and have fine opportunities for seeing what goes on there. It’s my business to watch the business men, and upon my word I’m heartily7 ashamed of them sometimes. During the war they did nobly, giving their time and money, their sons and selves to the good cause, and I was proud of them. But now too many of them have fallen back into the old ways, and their motto seems to be, ‘Every one for himself, and the devil take the hindmost.’ Cheating, lying and stealing are hard words, and I don’t mean to apply them to all who swarm8 about below there like ants on an ant-hill—they have other names for these things, but I’m old-fashioned and use plain words. There’s a deal too much dishonesty in the world, and business seems to have become a game of hazard in which luck, not labor9, wins the prize. When I was young, men were years making moderate fortunes, and were satisfied with them. They built them on sure foundations, knew how to enjoy them while they lived, and to leave a good name behind them when they died.
“Now it’s anything for money; health, happiness, honor, life itself, are flung down on that great gaming-table, and they forget everything else in the excitement of success or the desperation of defeat. Nobody seems satisfied either, for those who win have little time or taste to enjoy their prosperity, and those who lose have little courage or patience to support them in adversity. They don’t even fail as they used to. In my day when a merchant found himself embarrassed he didn’t ruin others in order to save himself, but honestly confessed the truth, gave up everything, and began again. But now-a-days after all manner of dishonorable shifts there comes a grand crash; many suffer, but by some hocus-pocus the merchant saves enough to retire upon and live comfortably here or abroad. It’s very evident that honor and honesty don’t mean now what they used to mean in the days of old May, Higginson and Lawrence.
“They preach below here, and very well too sometimes, for I often slide down the rope to peep and listen during service. But, bless you! they don’t seem to lay either sermon, psalm12 or prayer to heart, for while the minister is doing his best, the congregation, tired with the breathless hurry of the week, sleep peacefully, calculate their chances for the morrow, or wonder which of their neighbors will lose or win in the great game. Don’t tell me! I’ve seen them do it, and if I dared I’d have startled every soul of them with a rousing peal14. Ah, they don’t dream whose eye is on them, they never guess what secrets the telegraph wires tell as the messages fly by, and little know what a report I give to the winds of heaven as I ring out above them morning, noon, and night.” And the old spirit shook his head till the tassel15 on his cap jangled like a little bell.
“There are some, however, whom I love and honor,” he said, in a benignant tone, “who honestly earn their bread, who deserve all the success that comes to them, and always keep a warm corner in their noble hearts for those less blest than they. These are the men who serve the city in times of peace, save it in times of war, deserve the highest honors in its gift, and leave behind them a record that keeps their memories green. For such an one we lately tolled16 a knell18, my brothers; and as our united voices pealed19 over the city, in all grateful hearts, sweeter and more solemn than any chime, rung the words that made him so beloved,—
“‘Treat our dead boys tenderly, and send them home to me.’”
He ceased, and all the spirits reverently20 uncovered their gray heads as a strain of music floated up from the sleeping city and died among the stars.
“Like yours, my report is not satisfactory in all respects,” began the second spirit, who wore a very pointed21 cap and a finely-ornamented cloak. But, though his dress was fresh and youthful, his face was old, and he had nodded several times during his brother’s speech. “My greatest affliction during the past year has been the terrible extravagance which prevails. My post, as you know, is at the court end of the city, and I see all the fashionable vices22 and follies23. It is a marvel24 to me how so many of these immortal25 creatures, with such opportunities for usefulness, self-improvement and genuine happiness can be content to go round and round in one narrow circle of unprofitable and unsatisfactory pursuits. I do my best to warn them; Sunday after Sunday I chime in their ears the beautiful old hymns26 that sweetly chide27 or cheer the hearts that truly listen and believe; Sunday after Sunday I look down on them as they pass in, hoping to see that my words have not fallen upon deaf ears; and Sunday after Sunday they listen to words that should teach them much, yet seem to go by them like the wind. They are told to love their neighbor, yet too many hate him because he possesses more of this world’s goods or honors than they; they are told that a rich man cannot enter the kingdom of heaven, yet they go on laying up perishable28 wealth, and though often warned that moth29 and rust30 will corrupt31, they fail to believe it till the worm that destroys enters and mars their own chapel32 of ease. Being a spirit, I see below external splendor33 and find much poverty of heart and soul under the velvet34 and the ermine which should cover rich and royal natures. Our city saints walk abroad in threadbare suits, and under quiet bonnets35 shine the eyes that make sunshine in the shady places. Often as I watch the glittering procession passing to and fro below me, I wonder if, with all our progress, there is to-day as much real piety36 as in the times when our fathers, poorly clad, with weapon in one hand and Bible in the other, came weary distances to worship in the wilderness37 with fervent38 faith unquenched by danger, suffering and solitude39.
“Yet in spite of my fault-finding I love my children, as I call them, for all are not butterflies. Many find wealth no temptation to forgetfulness of duty or hardness of heart. Many give freely of their abundance, pity the poor, comfort the afflicted40, and make our city loved and honored in other lands as in our own. They have their cares, losses, and heartaches as well as the poor; it isn’t all sunshine with them, and they learn, poor souls, that
‘Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary41.’
“But I’ve hopes of them, and lately they have had a teacher so genial42, so gifted, so well-beloved that all who listen to him must be better for the lessons of charity, good-will and cheerfulness which he brings home to them by the magic of tears and smiles. We know him, we love him, we always remember him as the year comes round, and the blithest song our brazen44 tongues utter is a Christmas carol to the Father of ‘The Chimes!’”
As the spirit spoke45 his voice grew cheery, his old face shone, and in a burst of hearty46 enthusiasm he flung up his cap and cheered like a boy. So did the others, and as the fairy shout echoed through the belfry a troop of shadowy figures, with faces lovely or grotesque47, tragical48 or gay, sailed by on the wings of the wintry wind and waved their hands to the spirits of the bells.
As the excitement subsided49 and the spirits reseated themselves, looking ten years younger for that burst, another spoke. A venerable brother in a dingy50 mantle51, with a tuneful voice, and eyes that seemed to have grown sad with looking on much misery52.
“He loves the poor, the man we’ve just hurrahed53 for, and he makes others love and remember them, bless him!” said the spirit. “I hope he’ll touch the hearts of those who listen to him here and beguile54 them to open their hands to my unhappy children over yonder. If I could set some of the forlorn souls in my parish beside the happier creatures who weep over imaginary woes55 as they are painted by his eloquent57 lips, that brilliant scene would be better than any sermon. Day and night I look down on lives as full of sin, self-sacrifice and suffering as any in those famous books. Day and night I try to comfort the poor by my cheery voice, and to make their wants known by proclaiming them with all my might. But people seem to be so intent on business, pleasure or home duties that they have no time to hear and answer my appeal. There’s a deal of charity in this good city, and when the people do wake up they work with a will; but I can’t help thinking that if some of the money lavished58 on luxuries was spent on necessaries for the poor, there would be fewer tragedies like that which ended yesterday. It’s a short story, easy to tell, though long and hard to live; listen to it.
“Down yonder in the garret of one of the squalid houses at the foot of my tower, a little girl has lived for a year, fighting silently and single-handed a good fight against poverty and sin. I saw her when she first came, a hopeful, cheerful, brave-hearted little soul, alone, yet not afraid. She used to sit all day sewing at her window, and her lamp burnt far into the night, for she was very poor, and all she earned would barely give her food and shelter. I watched her feed the doves, who seemed to be her only friends; she never forgot them, and daily gave them the few crumbs59 that fell from her meagre table. But there was no kind hand to feed and foster the little human dove, and so she starved.
“For a while she worked bravely, but the poor three dollars a week would not clothe and feed and warm her, though the things her busy fingers made sold for enough to keep her comfortably if she had received it. I saw the pretty color fade from her cheeks; her eyes grew hollow, her voice lost its cheery ring, her step its elasticity60, and her face began to wear the haggard, anxious look that made its youth doubly pathetic. Her poor little gowns grew shabby, her shawl so thin she shivered when the pitiless wind smote61 her, and her feet were almost bare. Rain and snow beat on the patient little figure going to and fro, each morning with hope and courage faintly shining, each evening with the shadow of despair gathering62 darker round her. It was a hard time for all, desperately63 hard for her, and in her poverty, sin and pleasure tempted64 her. She resisted, but as another bitter winter came she feared that in her misery she might yield, for body and soul were weakened now by the long struggle. She knew not where to turn for help; there seemed to be no place for her at any safe and happy fireside; life’s hard aspect daunted65 her, and she turned to death, saying confidingly66, ‘Take me while I’m innocent and not afraid to go.’
“I saw it all! I saw how she sold everything that would bring money and paid her little debts to the utmost penny; how she set her poor room in order for the last time; how she tenderly bade the doves good-by, and lay down on her bed to die. At nine o’clock last night as my bell rang over the city, I tried to tell what was going on in the garret where the light was dying out so fast. I cried to them with all my strength,—
“‘Kind souls, below there! a fellow-creature is perishing for lack of charity! Oh, help her before it is too late! Mothers, with little daughters on your knees, stretch out your hands and take her in! Happy women, in the safe shelter of home, think of her desolation! Rich men, who grind the faces of the poor, remember that this soul will one day be required of you! Dear Lord, let not this little sparrow fall to the ground! Help, Christian68 men and women, in the name of Him whose birthday blessed the world!’
“Ah me! I rang, and clashed, and cried in vain. The passers-by only said, as they hurried home, laden69 with Christmas cheer: ‘The old bell is merry to-night, as it should be at this blithe43 season, bless it!’
“As the clocks struck ten, the poor child lay down, saying, as she drank the last bitter draught70 life could give her, ‘It’s very cold, but soon I shall not feel it;’ and with her quiet eyes fixed71 on the cross that glimmered72 in the moonlight above me, she lay waiting for the sleep that needs no lullaby.
“As the clock struck eleven, pain and poverty for her were over. It was bitter cold, but she no longer felt it. She lay serenely73 sleeping, with tired heart and hands, at rest forever. As the clocks struck twelve, the dear Lord remembered her, and with fatherly hand led her into the home where there is room for all. To-day I rung her knell, and though my heart was heavy, yet my soul was glad; for in spite of all her human woe56 and weakness, I am sure that little girl will keep a joyful74 Christmas up in heaven.”
In the silence which the spirits for a moment kept, a breath of softer air than any from the snowy world below swept through the steeple and seemed to whisper, “Yes!”
“Avast there! fond as I am of salt water, I don’t like this kind,” cried the breezy voice of the fourth spirit, who had a tiny ship instead of a tassel on his cap, and who wiped his wet eyes with the sleeve of his rough blue cloak. “It won’t take me long to spin my yarn75; for things are pretty taut76 and ship-shape aboard our craft. Captain Taylor is an experienced sailor, and has brought many a ship safely into port in spite of wind and tide, and the devil’s own whirlpools and hurricanes. If you want to see earnestness come aboard some Sunday when the Captain’s on the quarter-deck, and take an observation. No danger of falling asleep there, no more than there is up aloft, ‘when the stormy winds do blow.’ Consciences get raked fore67 and aft, sins are blown clean out of the water, false colors are hauled down and true ones run up to the masthead, and many an immortal soul is warned to steer77 off in time from the pirates, rocks and quicksands of temptation. He’s a regular revolving78 light, is the Captain,—a beacon79 always burning and saying plainly, ‘Here are life-boats, ready to put off in all weathers and bring the shipwrecked into quiet waters.’ He comes but seldom now, being laid up in the home dock, tranquilly80 waiting till his turn comes to go out with the tide and safely ride at anchor in the great harbor of the Lord. Our crew varies a good deal. Some of ’em have rather rough voyages, and come into port pretty well battered81; land-sharks full foul82 of a good many, and do a deal of damage; but most of ’em carry brave and tender hearts under the blue jackets, for their rough nurse, the sea, manages to keep something of the child alive in the grayest old tar13 that makes the world his picture-book. We try to supply ’em with life-preservers while at sea, and make ’em feel sure of a hearty welcome when ashore83, and I believe the year ’67 will sail away into eternity84 with a satisfactory cargo85. Brother North-End made me pipe my eye; so I’ll make him laugh to pay for it, by telling a clerical joke I heard the other day. Bell-ows didn’t make it, though he might have done so, as he’s a connection of ours, and knows how to use his tongue as well as any of us. Speaking of the bells of a certain town, a reverend gentleman affirmed that each bell uttered an appropriate remark so plainly, that the words were audible to all. The Baptist bell cried, briskly, ‘Come up and be dipped! come up and be dipped!’ The Episcopal bell slowly said, ‘Apos-tol-ic suc-cess-ion! apos-tol-ic suc-cess-ion!’ The Orthodox bell solemnly pronounced, ‘Eternal damnation! eternal damnation!’ and the Methodist shouted, invitingly86, ‘Room for all! room for all!’”
As the spirit imitated the various calls, as only a jovial88 bell-sprite could, the others gave him a chime of laughter, and vowed89 they would each adopt some tune-ful summons, which should reach human ears and draw human feet more willingly to church.
“Faith, brother, you’ve kept your word and got the laugh out of us,” cried a stout90, sleek91 spirit, with a kindly92 face, and a row of little saints round his cap and a rosary at his side. “It’s very well we are doing this year; the cathedral is full, the flock increasing, and the true faith holding its own entirely93. Ye may shake your heads if you will and fear there’ll be trouble, but I doubt it. We’ve warm hearts of our own, and the best of us don’t forget that when we were starving, America—the saints bless the jewel!—sent us bread; when we were dying for lack of work, America opened her arms and took us in, and now helps us to build churches, homes and schools by giving us a share of the riches all men work for and win. It’s a generous nation ye are, and a brave one, and we showed our gratitude94 by fighting for ye in the day of trouble and giving ye our Phil, and many another broth5 of a boy. The land is wide enough for us both, and while we work and fight and grow together, each may learn something from the other. I’m free to confess that your religion looks a bit cold and hard to me, even here in the good city where each man may ride his own hobby to death, and hoot95 at his neighbors as much as he will. You seem to keep your piety shut up all the week in your bare, white churches, and only let it out on Sundays, just a trifle musty with disuse. You set your rich, warm and soft to the fore, and leave the poor shivering at the door. You give your people bare walls to look upon, commonplace music to listen to, dull sermons to put them asleep, and then wonder why they stay away, or take no interest when they come.
“We leave our doors open day and night; our lamps are always burning, and we may come into our Father’s house at any hour. We let rich and poor kneel together, all being equal there. With us abroad you’ll see prince and peasant side by side, school-boy and bishop96, market-woman and noble lady, saint and sinner, praying to the Holy Mary, whose motherly arms are open to high and low. We make our churches inviting87 with immortal music, pictures by the world’s great masters, and rites97 that are splendid symbols of the faith we hold. Call it mummery if ye like, but let me ask you why so many of your sheep stray into our fold? It’s because they miss the warmth, the hearty, the maternal98 tenderness which all souls love and long for, and fail to find in your stern, Puritanical99 belief. By Saint Peter! I’ve seen many a lukewarm worshipper, who for years has nodded in your cushioned pews, wake and glow with something akin10 to genuine piety while kneeling on the stone pavement of one of our cathedrals, with Raphael’s angels before his eyes, with strains of magnificent music in his ears, and all about him, in shapes of power or beauty, the saints and martyrs100 who have saved the world, and whose presence inspires him to follow their divine example. It’s not complaining of ye I am, but just reminding ye that men are but children after all, and need more tempting101 to virtue102 than they do to vice11, which last comes easy to ’em since the Fall. Do your best in your own ways to get the poor souls into bliss103, and good luck to ye. But remember, there’s room in the Holy Mother Church for all, and when your own priests send ye to the divil, come straight to us and we’ll take ye in.”
“A truly Catholic welcome, bull and all,” said the sixth spirit, who, in spite of his old-fashioned garments, had a youthful face, earnest, fearless eyes, and an energetic voice that woke the echoes with its vigorous tones. “I’ve a hopeful report, brothers, for the reforms of the day are wheeling into rank and marching on. The war isn’t over nor rebeldom conquered yet, but the Old Guard has been ‘up and at ’em’ through the year. There has been some hard fighting, rivers of ink have flowed, and the Washington dawdlers have signalized themselves by a ‘masterly inactivity.’ The political campaign has been an anxious one; some of the leaders have deserted; some been mustered104 out; some have fallen gallantly105, and as yet have received no monuments. But at the Grand Review the Cross of the Legion of Honor will surely shine on many a brave breast that won no decoration but its virtue here; for the world’s fanatics106 make heaven’s heroes, poets say.
“The flock of Nightingales that flew South during the ‘winter of our discontent’ are all at home again, some here and some in Heaven. But the music of their womanly heroism107 still lingers in the nation’s memory, and makes a tender minor-chord in the battle-hymn of freedom.
“The reform in literature isn’t as vigorous as I could wish; but a sharp attack of mental and moral dyspepsia will soon teach our people that French confectionery and the bad pastry108 of Wood, Braddon, Yates & Co. is not the best diet for the rising generation.
“Speaking of the rising generation reminds me of the schools. They are doing well; they always are, and we are justly proud of them. There may be a slight tendency toward placing too much value upon book-learning; too little upon home culture. Our girls are acknowledged to be uncommonly109 pretty, witty110 and wise, but some of us wish they had more health and less excitement, more domestic accomplishments111 and fewer ologies and isms, and were contented112 with simple pleasures and the old-fashioned virtues113, and not quite so fond of the fast, frivolous114 life that makes them old so soon. I am fond of our girls and boys. I love to ring for their christenings and marriages, to toll17 proudly for the brave lads in blue, and tenderly for the innocent creatures whose seats are empty under my old roof. I want to see them anxious to make Young America a model of virtue, strength and beauty, and I believe they will in time.
“There have been some important revivals115 in religion; for the world won’t stand still, and we must keep pace or be left behind to fossilize. A free nation must have a religion broad enough to embrace all mankind, deep enough to fathom116 and fill the human soul, high enough to reach the source of all love and wisdom, and pure enough to satisfy the wisest and the best. Alarm bells have been rung, anathemas117 pronounced, and Christians118, forgetful of their creed119, have abused one another heartily. But the truth always triumphs in the end, and whoever sincerely believes, works and waits for it, by whatever name he calls it, will surely find his own faith blessed to him in proportion to his charity for the faith of others.
“But look!—the first red streaks120 of dawn are in the East. Our vigil is over, and we must fly home to welcome in the holidays. Before we part, join with me, brothers, in resolving that through the coming year we will with all our hearts and tongues,—
‘Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring out the false, ring in the true;
Ring in the valiant121 man and free,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.’”
Then hand in hand the spirits of the bells floated away, singing in the hush122 of dawn the sweet song the stars sung over Bethlehem,—“Peace on earth, good will to men.”
The End
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1
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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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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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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tassel
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| n.流苏，穗；v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须 | |
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tolled
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| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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knell
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| n.丧钟声；v.敲丧钟 | |
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pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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chide
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| v.叱责；谴责 | |
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perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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39
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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40
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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42
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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43
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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44
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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45
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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46
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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47
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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48
tragical
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| adj. 悲剧的, 悲剧性的 | |
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49
subsided
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| 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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50
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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51
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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52
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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53
hurrahed
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| v.好哇( hurrah的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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55
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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56
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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57
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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58
lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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60
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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61
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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62
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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63
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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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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65
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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67
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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68
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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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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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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71
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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72
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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75
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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79
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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81
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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82
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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83
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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84
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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85
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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86
invitingly
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| adv. 动人地 | |
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87
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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88
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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89
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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91
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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92
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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93
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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94
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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95
hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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96
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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97
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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98
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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99
puritanical
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| adj.极端拘谨的；道德严格的 | |
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100
martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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101
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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102
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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103
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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104
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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105
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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106
fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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107
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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108
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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109
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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110
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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111
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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112
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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113
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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114
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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115
revivals
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| n.复活( revival的名词复数 )；再生；复兴；（老戏多年后）重新上演 | |
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116
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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117
anathemas
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| n.（天主教的）革出教门( anathema的名词复数 )；诅咒；令人极其讨厌的事；被基督教诅咒的人或事 | |
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118
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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119
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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120
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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121
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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122
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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