Our friend came in with challenge in his eye, and though a month had passed, we knew, as well as if it were only a day, that he had come to require of us the meaning in that saying of ours that New York derived1 her inspiration from the future, or would derive2 it, if she ever got it.
"Well," he said, "have you cleared your mind yet sufficiently3 to 'pour the day' on mine? Or hadn't you any meaning in what you said? I've sometimes suspected it."
The truth is that we had not had very much meaning of the sort that you stand and deliver, though we were aware of a large, vague wisdom in our words. But we perceived that our friend had no intention of helping4 us out, and on the whole we thought it best to temporize5.
"In the first place," we said, "we should like to know what impression New York made on you when you arrived here, if there was any room left on your soul-surface after the image of Boston had been imprinted6 there."
No man is unwilling7 to expatiate8 concerning himself, even when he is trying to corner a fellow-man. This principle of human nature perhaps accounts for the frequent failure of thieves to catch thieves, in spite of the proverb; the pursuit suggests somehow the pleasures of autobiography9, and while they are reminded of this and that the suspects escape the detectives. Our friend gladly paused to reply:
"I wish I could say! It was as unbeautiful as it could be, but it was wonderful! Has anybody else ever said that there is no place like it? On some accounts I am glad there isn't; one place of the kind is enough; but what I mean is that I went about all the next day after arriving from Boston, with Europe still in my brain, and tried for something suggestive of some other metropolis10, and failed. There was no question of Boston, of course; that was clean out of it after my first glimpse of Fifth Avenue in taxicabbing hotelward from the Grand Central Station. But I tried with Berlin, and found it a drearier11 Boston; with Paris, and found it a blonder and blither Boston; with London, and found it sombrely irrelevant12 and incomparable. New York is like London only in not being like any other place, and it is next to London in magnitude. So far, so good; but the resemblance ends there, though New York is oftener rolled in smoke, or mist, than we willingly allow to Londoners. Both, however, have an admirable quality which is not beauty. One might call the quality picturesque13 immensity in London, and in New York one might call it—"
He compressed his lips, and shut his eyes to a fine line for the greater convenience of mentally visioning.
"What?" we impatiently prompted.
"I was going to say, sublimity14. What do you think of sublimity?"
"We always defend New York against you. We accept sublimity. How?"
"I was thinking of the drive up or down Fifth Avenue, the newer Fifth Avenue, which has risen in marble and Indiana limestone15 from the brownstone and brick of a former age, the Augustan Fifth Avenue which has replaced that old Lincolnian Fifth Avenue. You get the effect best from the top of one of the imperial motor-omnibuses which have replaced the consular16 two-horse stages; and I should say that there was more sublimity to the block between Sixteenth Street and Sixtieth than in the other measures of the city's extent."
5th avenue
FIFTH AVENUE AT THIRTY-FOURTH STREET
"This is very gratifying to us as a fond New-Yorker; but why leave out of the reach of sublimity the region of the sky-scrapers, and the spacious17, if specious18, palatiality of the streets on the upper West Side?"
"I don't, altogether," our friend replied. "Especially I don't leave out the upper West Side. That has moments of being even beautiful. But there is a point beyond which sublimity cannot go; and that is about the fifteenth story. When you get a group of those sky-scrapers, all soaring beyond this point, you have, in an inverted19 phase, the unimpressiveness which Taine noted20 as the real effect of a prospect21 from the summit of a very lofty mountain. The other day I found myself arrested before a shop-window by a large photograph labelled 'The Heart of New York.' It was a map of that region of sky-scrapers which you seem to think not justly beyond the scope of attributive sublimity. It was a horror; it set my teeth on edge; it made me think of scrap-iron—heaps, heights, pinnacles22 of scrap-iron. Don't ask me why scrap-iron! Go and look at that photograph and you will understand. Below those monstrous23 cliffs the lower roofs were like broken foot-hills; the streets were chasms24, gulches25, gashes26. It looked as if there had been a conflagration27, and the houses had been burned into the cellars; and the eye sought the nerve-racking tangle28 of pipe and wire which remains29 among the ruins after a great fire. Perhaps this was what made me think of scrap-iron—heaps, heights, pinnacles of it. No, there was no sublimity there. Some astronomers30 have latterly assigned bounds to immensity, but the sky-scrapers go beyond these bounds; they are primordial31, abnormal."
"You strain for a phrase," we said, "as if you felt the essential unreality of your censure32. Aren't you aware that medi?val Florence, medi?val Siena, must have looked, with their innumerable towers, like our sky-scrapered New York? They must have looked quite like it."
"And very ugly. It was only when those towers, which were devoted33 to party warfare34 as ours are devoted to business warfare, were levelled, that Florence became fair and Siena superb. I should not object to a New York of demolished35 sky-scrapers. They would make fine ruins; I would like to see them as ruins. In fact, now I think of it, 'The Heart of New York' reminded me of the Roman Forum36. I wonder I didn't think of that before. But if you want sublimity, the distinguishing quality of New York, as I feel it more and more, while I talk of it, you must take that stretch of Fifth Avenue from a motor-bus top."
"But that stretch of Fifth Avenue abounds37 in sky-scrapers!" we lamented38 the man's inconsistency.
"Sky-scrapers in subordination, yes. There is one to every other block. There is that supreme39 sky-scraper, the Flatiron. But just as the Flatiron, since the newspapers have ceased to celebrate its pranks40 with men's umbrellas, and the feathers and flounces and 'tempestuous41 petticoats' of the women, has sunk back into a measurable inconspicuity, so all the other tall buildings have somehow harmonized themselves with the prospect and no longer form the barbarous architectural chaos42 of lower New York. I don't object to their being mainly business houses and hotels; I think that it is much more respectable than being palaces or war-like eminences43, Guelf or Ghibelline; and as I ride up-town in my motor-bus, I thrill with their grandeur44 and glow with their condescension45. Yes, they condescend46; and although their tall white flanks climb in the distance, they seem to sink on nearer approach, and amiably47 decline to disfigure the line of progress, or to dwarf48 the adjacent edifices49. Down-town, in the heart of New York, poor old Trinity looks driven into the ground by the surrounding heights and bulks; but along my sublime50 upper Fifth Avenue there is spire51 after spire that does not unduly52 dwindle53, but looks as if tenderly, reverently54, protected by the neighboring giants. They are very good and kind giants, apparently55. But the acme56 of the sublimity, the quality in which I find my fancy insisting more and more, is in those two stately hostelries, the Gog and Magog of that giant company, which guard the approach to the Park like mighty57 pillars, the posts of vast city gates folded back from them."
"Come!" we said. "This is beginning to be something like."
"In November," our friend said, taking breath for a fresh spurt58 of praise, "there were a good many sympathetic afternoons which lent themselves to motor-bus progress up that magnificent avenue, and if you mounted to your place on top, about three o'clock, you looked up or down the long vista59 of blue air till it turned mirk at either vanishing-point under a sky of measureless cloudlessness. That dimness, almost smokiness at the closes of the prospect, was something unspeakably rich. It made me think, quite out of relation or relevance60, of these nobly mystical lines of Keats:
'His soul shall know the sadness of her night,
And be among her cloudy trophies61 hung.'"
We closed our eyes in the attempt to grope after him. "Explain, O Howadji!"
"I would rather not, as you say when you can't," he replied. "But I will come down a little nearer earth, if you prefer. Short of those visionary distances there are features of the prospect either way in which I differently rejoice. One thing is the shining black roofs of the cabs, moving and pausing like processions of huge turtles up and down the street; obeying the gesture of the mid-stream policemen where they stand at the successive crossings to stay them, and floating with the coming and going tides as he drops his inhibitory hand and speeds them in the continuous current. That is, of course, something you get in greater quantity, though not such intense quality, in a London 'block,' but there is something more fluent, more mercurially62 impatient, in a New York street jam, which our nerves more vividly63 partake. Don't ask me to explain! I would rather not!" he said, and we submitted.
He went on to what seemed an unjustifiable remove from the point. "Nothing has struck me so much, after a half-year's absence, in this novel revelation of sublimity in New York, as the evident increase on the street crowds. The city seems to have grown a whole new population, and the means of traffic and transportation have been duplicated in response to the demand of the multiplying freights and feet." Our friend laughed in self-derision, as he went on. "I remember when we first began to have the electric trolleys64—"
"Trams, we believe you call them," we insinuated65.
"Not when I'm on this side," he retorted, and he resumed: "I used to be afraid to cross the avenues where they ran. At certain junctions66 I particularly took my life in my hand, and my 'courage in both hands.' Where Sixth Avenue flows into Fifty-ninth Street, and at Sixth Avenue and Thirty-fourth Street, and at Dead Man's Curve (he has long been resuscitated) on Fourteenth Street, I held my breath till I got over alive, and I blessed Heaven for my safe passage at Forty-second and Twenty-third streets, and at divers67 places on Third Avenue. Now I regard these interlacing iron currents with no more anxiety than I would so many purling brooks68, with stepping-stones in them to keep my feet from the wet: they are like gentle eddies—soft, clear, slow tides—where one may pause in the midst at will, compared with the deadly expanses of Fifth Avenue, with their rush of all manner of vehicles over the smooth asphalt surface. There I stand long at the brink69; I look for a policeman to guide and guard my steps; I crane my neck forward from my coign of vantage and count the cabs, the taxicabs, the carriages, the private automobiles70, the motor-buses, the express-wagons, and calculate my chances. Then I shrink back. If it is a corner where there is no policeman to bank the tides up on either hand and lead me over, I wait for some bold, big team to make the transit71 of the avenue from the cross-street, and then in its lee I find my way to the other side. As for the trolleys, I now mock myself of them, as Thackeray's Frenchmen were said to say in their peculiar72 English. (I wonder if they really did?) It is the taxicabs that now turn my heart to water. It is astonishing how they have multiplied—they have multiplied even beyond the ratio of our self-reduplicating population. There are so many already that this morning I read in my paper of a trolley-car striking a horse-cab! The reporter had written quite unconsciously, just as he used to write horseless carriage. Yes, the motor-cab is now the type, the norm, and the horse-cab is the—the—the——"
He hesitated for the antithesis73, and we proposed "Abnorm?"
"Say abnorm! It is hideous74, but I don't know that it is wrong. Where was I?"
"You had got quite away from the sublimity of New York, which upon the whole you seemed to attribute to the tall buildings along Fifth Avenue. We should like you to explain again why, if 'The Heart of New York,' with its sky-scrapers, made you think of scrap-iron, the Flatiron soothed75 your lacerated sensibilities?"
5th avenue
FIFTH AVENUE FROM THE TOP OF A MOTOR-BUS
"The Flatiron is an incident, an accent merely, in the mighty music of the Avenue, a happy discord76 that makes for harmony. It is no longer nefarious77, or even mischievous78, now the reporters have got done attributing a malign79 meteorological influence to it. I wish I could say as much for the white marble rocket presently soaring up from the east side of Madison Square, and sinking the beautiful reproduction of the Giralda tower in the Garden half-way into the ground. As I look at this pale yellowish brown imitation of the Seville original, it has a pathos80 which I might not make you feel. But I would rather not look away from Fifth Avenue at all. It is astonishing how that street has assumed and resumed all the larger and denser81 life of the other streets. Certain of the avenues, like Third and Sixth, remain immutably82 and characteristically noisy and ignoble83; and Fifth Avenue has not reduced them to insignificance84 as it has Broadway. That is now a provincial85 High Street beside its lordlier compeer; but I remember when Broadway stormed and swarmed86 with busy life. Why, I remember the party-colored 'buses which used to thunder up and down; and I can fancy some Rip Van Winkle of the interior returning to the remembered terrors and splendors87 of that mighty thoroughfare, and expecting to be killed at every crossing—I can fancy such a visitor looking round in wonder at the difference and asking the last decaying survivor88 of the famous Broadway Squad89 what they had done with Broadway from the Battery to Madison Square. Beyond that, to be sure, there is a mighty flare90 of electrics blazoning91 the virtues92 of the popular beers, whiskeys, and actresses, which might well mislead my elderly revisitor with the belief that Broadway was only taken in by day, and was set out again after dark in its pristine93—I think pristine is the word; it used to be—glory. But even by night that special length of Broadway lacks the sublimity of Fifth Avenue, as I see it or imagine it from my motor-bus top. I knew Fifth Avenue in the Lincolnian period of brick and brownstone, when it had a quiet, exclusive beauty, the beauty of the unbroken sky-line and the regularity94 of facade95 which it has not yet got back, and may never get. You will get some notion of it still in Madison Avenue, say from Twenty-eighth to Forty-second streets, and perhaps you will think it was dull as well as proud. It is proud now, but it is certainly not dull. There is something of columnar majesty96 in the lofty flanks of these tall shops and hotels as you approach them, which makes you think of some capital decked for a national holiday. But in Fifth Avenue it is always holiday—"
"Enough of streets!" we cried, impatiently. "Now, what of men? What of that heterogeneity97 for which New York is famous, or infamous98? You noticed the contrasting Celtic and Pelasgic tribes in Boston. What of them here, with all the tribes of Israel, lost and found, and the 'sledded Polack,' the Czech, the Hun, the German, the Gaul, the Gothic and Iberian Spaniard, and the swart stranger from our sister continent to the southward, and the islands of the seven seas, who so sorely outnumber us?"
Our friend smiled thoughtfully. "Why, that is very curious! Do you know that in Fifth Avenue the American type seems to have got back its old supremacy99? It is as if no other would so well suit with that sublimity! I have not heard that race-suicide has been pronounced by the courts amenable100 to our wise State law against felo de se, but in the modern Fifth Avenue it is as if our stirp had suddenly reclaimed101 its old-time sovereignty. I don't say that there are not other faces, other tongues than ours to be seen, heard, there; far from it! But I do say it is a sense of the American face, the American tongue, which prevails. Once more, after long exile in the streets of our own metropolis, you find yourself in an American city. Your native features, your native accents, have returned in such force from abroad, or have thronged102 here in such multitude from the prospering103 Pittsburgs, Cincinnatis, Chicagos, St. Louises, and San Franciscos of the West, that you feel as much at home in Fifth Avenue as you would in Piccadilly, or in the Champs Elysées, or on the Pincian Hill. Yes, it is very curious."
"Perhaps," we suggested, after a moment's reflection, "it isn't true."
点击收听单词发音
1 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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2 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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3 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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4 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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5 temporize | |
v.顺应时势;拖延 | |
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6 imprinted | |
v.盖印(imprint的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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7 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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8 expatiate | |
v.细说,详述 | |
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9 autobiography | |
n.自传 | |
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10 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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11 drearier | |
使人闷闷不乐或沮丧的( dreary的比较级 ); 阴沉的; 令人厌烦的; 单调的 | |
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12 irrelevant | |
adj.不恰当的,无关系的,不相干的 | |
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13 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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14 sublimity | |
崇高,庄严,气质高尚 | |
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15 limestone | |
n.石灰石 | |
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16 consular | |
a.领事的 | |
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17 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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18 specious | |
adj.似是而非的;adv.似是而非地 | |
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19 inverted | |
adj.反向的,倒转的v.使倒置,使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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21 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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22 pinnacles | |
顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 ); 顶点; 尖顶; 小尖塔 | |
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23 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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24 chasms | |
裂缝( chasm的名词复数 ); 裂口; 分歧; 差别 | |
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25 gulches | |
n.峡谷( gulch的名词复数 ) | |
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26 gashes | |
n.深长的切口(或伤口)( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤,割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
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27 conflagration | |
n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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28 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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29 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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30 astronomers | |
n.天文学者,天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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31 primordial | |
adj.原始的;最初的 | |
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32 censure | |
v./n.责备;非难;责难 | |
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33 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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34 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
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35 demolished | |
v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 );推翻;拆毁(尤指大建筑物);吃光 | |
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36 forum | |
n.论坛,讨论会 | |
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37 abounds | |
v.大量存在,充满,富于( abound的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38 lamented | |
adj.被哀悼的,令人遗憾的v.(为…)哀悼,痛哭,悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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40 pranks | |
n.玩笑,恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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41 tempestuous | |
adj.狂暴的 | |
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42 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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43 eminences | |
卓越( eminence的名词复数 ); 著名; 高地; 山丘 | |
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44 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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45 condescension | |
n.自以为高人一等,贬低(别人) | |
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46 condescend | |
v.俯就,屈尊;堕落,丢丑 | |
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47 amiably | |
adv.和蔼可亲地,亲切地 | |
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48 dwarf | |
n.矮子,侏儒,矮小的动植物;vt.使…矮小 | |
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49 edifices | |
n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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50 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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51 spire | |
n.(教堂)尖顶,尖塔,高点 | |
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52 unduly | |
adv.过度地,不适当地 | |
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53 dwindle | |
v.逐渐变小(或减少) | |
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54 reverently | |
adv.虔诚地 | |
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55 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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56 acme | |
n.顶点,极点 | |
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57 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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58 spurt | |
v.喷出;突然进发;突然兴隆 | |
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59 vista | |
n.远景,深景,展望,回想 | |
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60 relevance | |
n.中肯,适当,关联,相关性 | |
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61 trophies | |
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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62 mercurially | |
adj.(指人)反复无常的;水银的;(指人或性质)灵活的;易变的 | |
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63 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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64 trolleys | |
n.(两轮或四轮的)手推车( trolley的名词复数 );装有脚轮的小台车;电车 | |
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65 insinuated | |
v.暗示( insinuate的过去式和过去分词 );巧妙或迂回地潜入;(使)缓慢进入;慢慢伸入 | |
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66 junctions | |
联结点( junction的名词复数 ); 会合点; (公路或铁路的)交叉路口; (电缆等的)主结点 | |
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67 divers | |
adj.不同的;种种的 | |
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68 brooks | |
n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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69 brink | |
n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘,边沿 | |
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70 automobiles | |
n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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71 transit | |
n.经过,运输;vt.穿越,旋转;vi.越过 | |
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72 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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73 antithesis | |
n.对立;相对 | |
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74 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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75 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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76 discord | |
n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
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77 nefarious | |
adj.恶毒的,极坏的 | |
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78 mischievous | |
adj.调皮的,恶作剧的,有害的,伤人的 | |
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79 malign | |
adj.有害的;恶性的;恶意的;v.诽谤,诬蔑 | |
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80 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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81 denser | |
adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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82 immutably | |
adv.不变地,永恒地 | |
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83 ignoble | |
adj.不光彩的,卑鄙的;可耻的 | |
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84 insignificance | |
n.不重要;无价值;无意义 | |
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85 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
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86 swarmed | |
密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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87 splendors | |
n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 );壮丽;光辉;显赫 | |
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88 survivor | |
n.生存者,残存者,幸存者 | |
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89 squad | |
n.班,小队,小团体;vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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90 flare | |
v.闪耀,闪烁;n.潮红;突发 | |
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91 blazoning | |
v.广布( blazon的现在分词 );宣布;夸示;装饰 | |
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92 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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93 pristine | |
adj.原来的,古时的,原始的,纯净的,无垢的 | |
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94 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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95 facade | |
n.(建筑物的)正面,临街正面;外表 | |
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96 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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97 heterogeneity | |
n.异质性;多相性 | |
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98 infamous | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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99 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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100 amenable | |
adj.经得起检验的;顺从的;对负有义务的 | |
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101 reclaimed | |
adj.再生的;翻造的;收复的;回收的v.开拓( reclaim的过去式和过去分词 );要求收回;从废料中回收(有用的材料);挽救 | |
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102 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103 prospering | |
成功,兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
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