“Ofttimes abroad I take my flight,
??Take pity on poor Henny;
To sell my books ’tis my delight,
??To gain an honest penny.”
Under a coach-horn that had often awakened30 the echoes of the Cornish hills, were three small cabinets, my friend’s own handiwork. The smallest contained minute shells, carefully classified, which he had collected on Porthcurnow and Gwenvor beaches; but more interesting to me than shells, ferns, or wildflowers, was the collection of birds’ eggs. What rare ones some of those compartments31 held! What trouble my friend had had in securing them! I have often questioned him about his expeditions on the cliffs, but he preferred to dwell on his visits to the outer islands of Scilly. The rugged32 grandeur33 of Mincarlo and Menavawr appealed to him; yet Annet was his favourite, and though he was a man of few words and free from gush34, I have heard him sigh when a sea-bird’s egg, or the lichen35 or withered36 thrift37 it rested on, recalled the beauty of this islet, which, when the sea-pinks are in bloom, glows under the June sun with the brilliant beauty of an amethyst38 set in sapphire39.
Nest of Seagull.
The room had one window only; but it was a spacious40 bay which faced south, and through it you could see and hear the waves breaking on the beach below. More than once that afternoon, before he lit the lamp, my friend turned the spyglass on some companies of wildfowl that dotted the rough water between the “Battery” and Lareggan rocks.
A double-barrelled muzzle-loader—a Joe Manton—was George Bevan’s favourite gun; and this, with powder-flasks, shot-pouches, caps and wads, were placed ready for the next morning. Only a boy who has been entered to sport and knows how the anticipation41 of it fevers the blood, can understand how impatiently I looked forward to the morrow. That night I thought sleep would never come; and at what hour I fell off I do not know, for the frost had got into the workings of our eight-day clock, and as for the town clock, that could generally be heard the town over, it might have stopped for all the sound it made in striking. But I must have slept, for I was half awakened by some noise against my window. My first impression was that the snow had changed to hail, but as the rattle42 grew louder I sat up in bed. Then it was I heard, “Jack43, get up!” faint and far away, like the doctor’s voice when you’re coming to after chloroform; and almost immediately the memory of everything came back to me—my friend’s last assurance that he would call for me, the white world outside and, most stirring of all, the woodcock awaiting us in the furze-brakes. I was up in a jiffy, struck a light, and dressed as hurriedly as a fourth-form boy whom the first stroke of the call-over bell finds in bed. The cold had not relented, for a film of ice lay on the water in the jug26, and by the candlelight I saw that the window-panes were frosted over. This was joy to me, for in my troubled sleep I had dreamt that the commonplace world was back again, and that every woodcock had flown away in the train of the retreating frost. Moreover, when we set out, the snow crunched44 under our feet, and a long icicle was hanging from the stone lip of the Alverton chute. Day was breaking when we reached the hilly field at Rosehill and followed the path under the beech-trees; and it is there, for some reason I cannot explain, that I best recall my old friend on that day. He was well above the middle height, and strongly built. The gun was slung45 across his back by means of a leather strap46. The coat of heather-mixture he wore had, besides big side-pockets, several subsidiary ones, and there were leather pieces on the shoulders. Two spaniels followed at his heels, and his henchman, an old man who had been in the employ of the family all his life, closed the procession. My friend’s hair was silvering, as you could see between the upturned collar and the brim of the dove-coloured hat; and for that reason he seemed, to my boyish eyes, an old man. Nevertheless I had some difficulty in keeping up with him, especially when, not having mittens47 on as he had, I put my hands in my pockets to protect them from the biting cold. Yet how slight must have been my discomfort48 compared to the distress49 of the birds—fieldfares, thrushes, whinnards, blackbirds, starlings and missel-thrushes—which were flying hither and thither50 in the vain search for food. Though no doubt I thought how easily they might be trapped, I was sorry for the smaller birds, wrens51 and tomtits, that threaded the hedgerow near the farmhouse52, and for the robin53, puffed54 out with cold, perched on one leg on the sill of the dairy window. A little farther on, where the footpath55 crosses the brook56 near its junction57 with the Lezingey stream, a snipe rose from some rushes; and farther on again, near some furze-bushes, were tracks of at least one rabbit. But we left them all behind us. The shooting-ground we were making for lay on the southern edge of the “High Country,” and though our shortest way would have been along the “Watery Lane,” as it used to be called, and up Hendra Bottoms, we rose the steep hill leading to Boswednan. By this more roundabout course, we should avoid the drifts through which a farmhand, who had brought tidings of the woodcock, had been obliged to force his way.
From the high ground above the hamlet, where we halted a moment to take breath, we overlooked a scene which resembled a rude cast in white of the familiar countryside. Many landmarks58 were disguised beyond recognition, and the waters of Mount’s Bay, generally like a liquid gem59 of the deepest blue, looked dull as lead. The newly-risen sun loomed60 big through the frost-fog which its rays could not penetrate61, and a man with weak eyes might have stared at the dull crimson62 orb63 without blinking. In the hollow immediately below us, an old labourer, with a big faggot of furze on his back, was staggering across a yard, his feet sinking at every step deeper and deeper into the snow, as he made for the closed door of the farmhouse against which it had drifted. It must be admitted that the snowfall, heavy as it was, could not be compared to the great blizzard64 of later years, which blocked the railway, isolated65 the dwellers66 in the country, and but for his knowledge of the position of a starveling tree on the edge of a quarry7, would probably have cost the Earthstopper his life. Nevertheless, wildfowl were quite as abundant; and as the Looe Pool, Marazion Marsh67, and other resorts became frozen over, they had to shift their quarters, and ultimately to settle on the sea.
St Michael’s Mount.
More than one skein of duck had passed high overhead since daybreak, flying westward68, but none so big as the great flock of widgeon which we saw, some four gunshots above us, as we were turning into the marshy69 moor70 near Tremayne plantation71, where our sport was to begin. This piece of undrained ground was, may be is, shaped like a triangle. Tussocks of rushes just showed above the snow, and a runnel, winding72 in and out among them, ran chattering73 between a double frill of ice. We had not advanced many steps before a snipe rose, to fall to the first barrel, and soon after a wisp got up out of range, and flew away in the direction of the Big Downs. Following the running water, we approached the corner, where rushes gave place to a brambly thicket74, between which and the stone walls behind grew a few gnarled holly-bushes. The spaniels were hardly in this cover before they flushed a woodcock. Bang! bang! and the bird fell on our side of the wall. The smoke had not cleared when another rose from the other side, where a few withes skirted the runnel. It afforded the easiest of shots; but, alas75! both barrels were empty, and the reloading of a muzzle-loader takes time. We crouched76, hoping the bird might settle in an adjoining marsh, but it kept on in the direction of Trannack Hill till it became a mere77 speck78 in the leaden sky, and at last was lost to view.
Separated from the three-cornered moor by two or three rough fields is a stennack—an excavation79 made by the “old men” in mining for tin—in length a good stone’s throw, and some thirty yards across. The bed of it lies from twelve to twenty feet below the level of the field that circles it, so that the biting wind swept over the white coverlet that concealed80 the close thicket of furze, blackthorn, and bramble that grew there. Standing81 on the edge of the bank, we could follow the movements of the dogs by the snow which fell here and there from the bushes. Presently a woodcock rose silently a few yards in front of them on the far side, and fell to the shot, dropping behind a thorn-bush on the opposite bank. Shortly after, another got up but was missed, and then for a time there was a lull82 in the sport. Not that the excitement flagged, for the spaniels were giving tongue, and as they drew near the zigzagging83 bank on which we stood a rabbit bolted on our right; then, strange to say, a fox made off, stealing away with that lissom84 movement that only a wild creature is endowed with, his ruddy coat showing finely against the white background. Near the farther end of the stennack three teal were flushed. They were up and away in no time, affording a pretty right and left. Two dropped in the thicket, and it was some time before we succeeded in finding them. It may seem hard to understand that the stennack was a haunt for wildfowl, but so it was. There was no pool of water there, no spring, as far as I could see; and a small cave at the foot of the high bank was dry, for, boylike, I peeped in over the drift that half-filled its mouth.
Leaving the field, we made for Trevean farmhouse. The snow in the unfrequented lane that we followed was unmarked by any footprint except the track of a hare. Soon we could smell the reek85 of burning furze, and as we came in sight of the high stone chimney, we heard the mooing of the cattle that had been driven in from the wild moors86 around. Two colts, with rugged coats and steaming nostrils87, whose heads projected over the half-door of the stable, welcomed us with a neigh, as we crossed the rickyard and entered the house. A fire blazed on the hearth; but of the interior I can recall clearly but one object, an old woman wearing a small red shawl, seated in a high-backed chair at the end of the table, with a big book open before her. It was the indescribable calm on her face that I shall never forget. That is what I see first as the scene passes before my eyes, then the muslin cap she wore, and last, though its hue88 was so bright, her red turnover89. A sheep-dog was stretched at full length on the stone floor, his nose, that lay between his tan-coloured paws, nearly touching90 the little wooden footstool on which the aged91 woman’s feet rested; but this part of the picture is faded. My friend chatted with her so long about some great frost of years before that I thought he must have forgotten all about the woodcock. At length we left the farm kitchen and set out for the wild waste-land, the farmer going with us. The good sport we subsequently met with in Billy Hal’s moor tempts92 me to tell the reader at once what happened there, but I will first touch briefly93 on the most striking incidents in the wide round we took over the country on the hither side of it.
Scarcely a croft but held its woodcock: hardly a runnel from which a snipe did not rise. In the bottom under Penhale fox-brake, a woodcock rose out of some brambles growing inside the ruined walls of a roofless cottage, and a little further down, where a leat runs into the New Bridge stream—that looked amid the snow like a black ribbon lying on a bed of goose-down—a mallard was shot, and a startled heron was allowed to flap itself away unmolested. Shortly after this, the sun for a brief space broke through the clouds and turned the dull white scene into a glittering fairyland. Near Boswortha Cairn—oh, how piercing was the icy wind there—both barrels were discharged at a passing flock of golden plover94, and on the far side of the rocks the farmer, humouring my curiosity, led me to see a set of badgers’ earths. Three of the holes were blocked, and not a track was to be seen in front of the one that remained open. As we hurried to rejoin our little party, the farmer dropped up to his ears in a pit, his black beard lying flat on the snow. His hearty95 laugh rang out; but my friend, who was some thirty yards below us, did not turn his head—in fact, did not, as he afterwards said, hear any sound. I mention this to show how strong the wind was, though another fact probably contributed to the result—my friend and his old henchman were approaching Billy Hal’s moor.
Waste land it is, as its name indicates, but in luxuriance of growth it is an oasis96 amidst the barren hills that screen it from unkind winds. In the spring, its bushes are the first of that wild and unprofitable countryside to spread a wealth of golden blossom; in the autumn, the blackberry-picker crowns her basket with big purple berries from the bushes beside the rushy brook there. Later, when the sloes have shrivelled on the blackthorns and the coralline hips97 of the dog-rose adorn98 the leafless briers, the farm-boy, seeking strayed cattle, flushes the first woodcock of the season and forthwith sets a springe or two on the boggy99 margin100 of the runnel under the thicket of black withes. From then until February this moor holds more than its share of the longbills, and when woodcock are plentiful101 in other coverts102, in Billy Hal’s moor, to use the country folks’ term, they are “daggin.” In the middle rises a knoll103, whence the eye may descry104 the rude boundaries that enclose its, perhaps, four customary acres.
My friend was pushing aside the snow-laden furze towards this vantage-ground, and I followed in his wake. When he had gained it, he raised the hammers of the gun, and then lifted his hand as a signal to the farmer to let loose the dogs. We knew there were at least three woodcock in the moor, for we had seen them drop there. Before you could count ten, a woodcock rose with a great flapping noise. Bang! went the gun as the bird twisted above the withes. Bang!—down it dropped on the snow a good forty yards away, between the moor and a clump105 of gloomy pines for which it seemed to be making. As I ran round to fetch it I heard “mark cock” twice in succession, but no report followed, and shortly after, “mark cock” from the farmer, with the discharge of both barrels. The going was very rough, but at length I reached the brown bird lying in the snow beside the brook. What a beauty it was! To this day I cannot handle a woodcock without admiring its rich plumage, nor for that matter, though I have taken hundreds, take a trout off a hook without wondering at its lovely colouring.
It need scarcely be said that the rest of the moor was carefully beaten, but how many woodcock were flushed I cannot remember, nor do I regret it, for I fear the number might savour of exaggeration. Only five were added to the bag. One shot was a very long one, and the bird fell in the upper corner of the moor, near the ruins of Billy Hal’s cottage.
How long it was since Hal squatted106 on the land and hatched a title, I have not been able to trace, nor the manner of his death, nor even where he lies buried. The country-people venerate107 his memory, partly because of his great skill in hiding smuggled108 goods and outwitting the king’s officers, partly because of his markmanship with his blunderbuss. Some crofters aver4 they have heard from their fathers that there was a mystery about his end, and that Hal was buried at dead of night in his own land. However that may be, there he has at times been seen on clear nights in winter, moving noiselessly about amongst the furze with a short heavy gun, or sitting on the stones of his ruined hearth. It is a great pity that the mantle109 of the famous ghost-layer, Parson Polkinghorne, has not descended110 to any of his successors. We have it on the best authority that his exorcising formula, which began with the words “Nommy, Dommy” (in nomine Domini), never failed to lay the poor troubled spirits of those less sceptical days.
The moor having been shot over, we made our way to the house. It was now nearly three o’clock, and I felt tired, though not too tired to eat. The farmer’s daughter had laid our luncheon111 in the seldom-used parlour. There were sandwiches, mince-pies, a basin of clotted112 cream, some whortleberry jam, and a plate of sturmer pippins. These last were grown in my friend’s garden on espaliers, and he could generally produce one or two even when the next year’s fruit reddened the quarrenden-tree in the corner by the bee-skip. We stayed but a short time, as I thought, over our lunch, for we needed daylight to find our way down the bottoms, and snow had begun to fall again. From between the half-drawn curtains, where an ostrich113 egg hung, I had seen the big flakes114. So bidding adieu to the dear old lady, we made our way down the hill, and at length reached the clump of firs in the bottoms, where my friend stayed to light his pipe. I should not have mentioned so trifling115 an incident, had it not been that he used the tinder-box for the purpose. This was his almost invariable custom, except in summer: then he preferred a burning-glass, especially when deep-sea fishing. With a twinkle in his grey eyes the farmer remarked, “Like Mr George, edna?” and shortly after, at a spot where, as the curve of the drift showed, was a gap, he left us and was soon lost to sight in the blinding snow. We had rather less than a mile to go before striking a road, but our progress was poor, owing partly to the drifts, partly to the rough ground that lay under the even surface of the snow. A candle was burning in a window of Hendra farmhouse as we passed the lower pond, and when we came in sight of Boswednan lane we saw the lights—the welcome lights—of a carriage that was awaiting us at the foot of the hill. Of the drive home I know nothing, as I slept soundly the whole way.
Thus ended a day’s sport which lives in my memory when days since enjoyed on grouse-moors and by woodland coverts have been well-nigh forgotten, big bags notwithstanding.
Since penning these lines, I have turned to my friend’s diary. These are his brief entries for the two days:—
“25th December.—Heavy fall of snow. Sharp frost. Bunches of duck and geese in the bay. Seine shot at Mullion. Bonfire on Poldhu Cliff. Eleven loads of fish up by five o’clock next morning, when I left Newlyn cellar.”
“26th December.—At Trewern, Trevean, Penhale, Boswortha Cairn, Billy Hal’s moor, with Jack. 9 woodcock; 3 brace116 snipe, 2? golden plover, 1 of teal; 1 big snipe, 1 mallard, 1 bittern. Wind keen as a razor on Boswortha Cairn, very lew in Billy Hal’s moor, which was full of ‘cock.’?”
The old “Joe Manton,” which I have taken out of its case, is standing against my study-table, and a beautiful weapon it is, albeit117 the barrels are a trifle thin. Many days’ use have worn them so; but as far as I have been able to look back through the interesting diary there is only one entry with a bigger bag, and that was in the very winter when the scream of the iron horse silenced the coach-horn, and gave such a shock to Penwith’s customs. If you ask of what year I have been writing, I will tell you in our West-country way—by naming an unusual event—that it was the year when a pilchard seine was shot on Christmas Day, and tucked in a snowstorm under the cliffs, on which a beacon118, to spread the glad tidings, was lighted on a spot whence wireless119 messages are now transmitted across the seas.
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1
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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3
effacing
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| 谦逊的 | |
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4
aver
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| v.极力声明；断言；确证 | |
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5
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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6
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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7
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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10
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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12
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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13
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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jugs
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| （有柄及小口的）水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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lichen
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| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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thrift
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| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
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38
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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39
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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40
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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41
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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42
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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43
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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44
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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45
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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46
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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47
mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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48
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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49
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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50
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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51
wrens
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| n.鹪鹩( wren的名词复数 ) | |
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52
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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53
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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54
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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55
footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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56
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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57
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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58
landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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61
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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63
orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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65
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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66
dwellers
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| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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67
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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71
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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72
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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73
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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74
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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75
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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76
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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excavation
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| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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81
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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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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83
zigzagging
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| v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 )；盘陀 | |
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84
lissom
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| adj.柔软的，轻快而优雅的 | |
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85
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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86
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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88
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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89
turnover
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| n.人员流动率，人事变动率；营业额，成交量 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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92
tempts
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| v.引诱或怂恿（某人）干不正当的事( tempt的第三人称单数 )；使想要 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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94
plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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95
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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97
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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98
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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99
boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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100
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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101
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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102
coverts
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| n.隐蔽的，不公开的，秘密的( covert的名词复数 )；复羽 | |
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103
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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104
descry
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| v.远远看到；发现；责备 | |
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105
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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106
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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107
venerate
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| v.尊敬，崇敬，崇拜 | |
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108
smuggled
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| 水货 | |
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109
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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110
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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111
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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112
clotted
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| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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114
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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115
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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116
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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117
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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118
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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119
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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