Note the First. Trying for Quiet.
"Yes," said the doctor, pressing the tips of his fingers with a tremulous firmness on my pulse, and looking straight forward into the pupils of my eyes, "yes, I see: the symptoms all point unmistakably towards one conclusion—Brain. My dear sir, you have been working too hard; you have been following the dangerous example of the rest of the world in this age of business and bustle2. Your brain is over-taxed—that is your complaint. You must let it rest—there is your remedy."
"You mean," I said, "that I must keep quiet, and do Nothing?"
"Precisely3 so," replied the doctor. "You must not read or write; you must abstain4 from allowing yourself to be excited by society; you must have no annoyances5; you must feel no anxieties; you must 23 not think; you must be neither elated nor depressed7; you must keep early hours and take an occasional tonic8, with moderate exercise, and a nourishing but not too full a diet—above all, as perfect repose9 is essential to your restoration, you must go away into the country, taking any direction you please, and living just as you like, so long as you are quiet and so long as you do Nothing."
"I presume he is not to go away into the country without ME?" said my wife, who was present at the interview.
"Certainly not," rejoined the doctor with an acquiescent11 bow. "I look to your influence, my dear madam, to encourage our patient to follow my directions. It is unnecessary to repeat them, they are so extremely simple and easy to carry out. I will answer for your husband's recovery if he will but remember that he has now only two objects in life—to keep quiet, and to do Nothing."
My wife is a woman of business habits. As soon as the doctor had taken his leave, she produced her pocket-book, and made a brief abstract of his directions, for our future guidance. I looked over her shoulder and observed that the entry ran thus:—
"Rules for dear William's restoration to health. No reading; no writing; no excitement; no annoyance6; no anxiety; no thinking. Tonic. No elation13 24 of spirits. Nice dinners. No depression of spirits. Dear William to take little walks (with me). To go to bed early. To get up early. N.B.—Keep him quiet. Mem.: Mind he does Nothing."
Mind I do Nothing? No need to mind about that. I have not had a holiday since I was a boy. Oh, blessed Idleness, after the years of merciless industry that have separated us, are you and I to be brought together again at last? Oh, my weary right hand, are you really to ache no longer with driving the ceaseless pen? May I, indeed, put you in my pocket, and let you rest there, indolently, for hours together? Yes! for I am now at last to begin—doing Nothing. Delightful14 task that performs itself! Welcome responsibility that carries its weight away smoothly15 on its own shoulders!
These thoughts shine in pleasantly on my mind after the doctor has taken his departure, and diffuse16 an easy gaiety over my spirits when my wife and I set forth17, the next day, for the country. We are not going the round of the noisy watering-places, nor is it our intention to accept any invitations to join the circles assembled by festive18 country friends. My wife, guided solely19 by the abstract of the doctor's directions in her pocket-book, has decided20 that the only way to keep me absolutely quiet, and to make sure of my doing Nothing, is to take me to some pretty retired21 village and to put me up at a little 25 primitive22, unsophisticated country-inn. I offer no objection to this project—not because I have no will of my own and am not master of all my movements—but only because I happen to agree with my wife. Considering what a very independent man I am naturally, it has sometimes struck me, as a rather remarkable24 circumstance, that I always do agree with her.
We find the pretty, retired village. A charming place, full of thatched cottages with creepers at the doors, like the first easy lessons in drawing-masters' copy-books. We find the unsophisticated inn—just the sort of house that the novelists are so fond of writing about, with the snowy curtains and the sheets perfumed by lavender, and the matronly landlady25 and the amusing signpost. This Elysium is called the Nag's Head. Can the Nag's Head accommodate us? Yes, with a delightful bedroom and a sweet parlour. My wife takes off her bonnet26 and makes herself at home, directly. She nods her head at me with a look of triumph. Yes, dear, on this occasion also I quite agree with you. Here we have found perfect quiet; here we may make sure of obeying the doctor's orders; here we have, at last, discovered—Nothing.
Nothing! Did I say Nothing? We arrive at the Nag's Head late in the evening, have our tea, go to bed tired with our journey, sleep delightfully27 till 26 about three o'clock in the morning, and, at that hour, begin to discover that there are actually noises even in this remote country seclusion28. They keep fowls29 at the Nag's Head; and, at three o'clock, the cock begins to crow and the hens to cluck under our window. Pastoral, my dear, and suggestive of eggs for breakfast whose reputation is above suspicion; but I wish these cheerful fowls did not wake quite so early. Are there, likewise, dogs, love, at the Nag's Head, and are they trying to bark down the crowing and clucking of the cheerful fowls? I should wish to guard myself against the possibility of making a mistake, but I think I hear three dogs. A shrill30 dog who barks rapidly; a melancholy31 dog who howls monotonously33; and a hoarse34 dog who emits barks at intervals35 like minute guns. Is this going on long? Apparently36 it is. My dear, if you will refer to your pocket-book, I think you will find that the doctor recommended early hours. We will not be fretful and complain of having our morning sleep disturbed; we will be contented37, and will only say that it is time to get up.
Breakfast. Delicious meal, let us linger over it as long as we can,—let us linger, if possible, till the drowsy38 midday tranquillity40 begins to sink over this secluded41 village.
Strange! but now I think of it again, do I, or do I not, hear an incessant42 hammering over the way? 27 No manufacture is carried on in this peaceful place, no new houses are being built; and yet there is such a hammering that, if I shut my eyes, I can almost fancy myself in the neighbourhood of a dock-yard. Waggons44, too. Why does a waggon43 which makes so little noise in London, make so much noise here? Is the dust on the road detonating powder, that goes off with a report at every turn of the heavy wheels? Does the waggoner crack his whip or fire a pistol to encourage his horses? Children, next. Only five of them, and they have not been able to settle for the last half hour what game they shall play at. On two points alone do they appear to be unanimous—they are all agreed on making a noise and on stopping to make it under our window. I think I am in some danger of forgetting one of the doctor's directions: I rather fancy I am actually allowing myself to be annoyed.
Let us take a turn in the garden, at the back of the house. Dogs again. The yard is on one side of the garden. Every time our walk takes us near it, the shrill dog barks and the hoarse dog growls46. The doctor tells me to have no anxieties. I am suffering devouring47 anxieties. These dogs may break loose and fly at us, for anything I know to the contrary, at a moment's notice. What shall I do? Give myself a drop of tonic? or escape for a few hours from the perpetual noises of this retired spot by taking a 28 drive? My wife says, take a drive. I think I have already mentioned that I invariably agree with my wife.
The drive is successful in procuring48 us a little quiet. My directions to the coachman are to take us where he pleases, so long as he keeps away from secluded villages. We suffer much jolting49 in by-lanes, and encounter a great variety of bad smells. But a bad smell is a noiseless nuisance, and I am ready to put up with it patiently. Towards dinner-time we return to our inn. Meat, vegetables, pudding, all excellent, clean and perfectly50 cooked. As good a dinner as I wish ever to eat;—shall I get a little nap after it? The fowls, the dogs, the hammer, the children, the waggons, are quiet at last. Is there anything else left to make a noise? Yes: there is the working population of the place.
It is getting on towards evening, and the sons of labour are assembling on the benches placed outside the inn to drink. What a delightful scene they would make of this homely51 every-day event on the stage! How the simple creatures would clink their tin mugs, and drink each other's healths, and laugh joyously52 in chorus! How the peasant maidens53 would come tripping on the scene and lure54 the men tenderly to the dance! Where are the pipe and tabour that I have seen in so many pictures; where the simple songs that I have read about in so many poems? 29 What do I hear as I listen, prone55 on the sofa, to the evening gathering56 of the rustic57 throng58? Oaths,—nothing, on my word of honour, but oaths! I look out, and see gangs of cadaverous savages60, drinking gloomily from brown mugs, and swearing at each other every time they open their lips. Never in any large town, at home or abroad, have I been exposed to such an incessant fire of unprintable words as now assail61 my ears in this primitive village. No man can drink to another without swearing at him first. No man can ask a question without adding a mark of interrogation at the end in the shape of an oath. Whether they quarrel (which they do for the most part), or whether they agree; whether they talk of their troubles in this place or their good luck in that; whether they are telling a story, or proposing a toast, or giving an order, or finding fault with the beer, these men seem to be positively63 incapable64 of speaking without an allowance of at least five foul65 words for every one fair word that issues from their lips. English is reduced in their mouths to a brief vocabulary of all the vilest66 expressions in the language. This is an age of civilization; this is a Christian67 country; opposite me I see a building with a spire68, which is called, I believe, a church; past my window, not an hour since, there rattled69 a neat pony70 chaise with a gentleman inside, clad in glossy71 black broad cloth, and popularly known by the style and 30 title of clergyman. And yet, under all these good influences, here sit twenty or thirty men whose ordinary table-talk is so outrageously72 beastly and blasphemous73, that not one single sentence of it, though it lasted the whole evening, could be printed, as a specimen74, for public inspection75 in these pages. When the intelligent foreigner comes to England, and when I tell him (as I am sure to do) that we are the most moral people in the universe, I will take good care that he does not set his foot in a secluded British village when the rural population is reposing76 over its mug of small-beer after the labours of the day.
I am not a squeamish person, neither is my wife, but the social intercourse77 of the villagers drives us out of our room, and sends us to take refuge at the back of the house. Do we gain anything by the change? Nothing whatever.
The back parlour, to which we have now retreated, looks out on a bowling-green; and there are more benches, more mugs of beer, more foul-mouthed villagers on the bowling-green. Immediately under our window is a bench and table for two, and on it are seated a drunken old man and a drunken old woman. The aged78 sot in trousers is offering marriage to the aged sot in petticoats, with frightful79 oaths of endearment80. Never before did I imagine that swearing could be twisted to the purposes of 31 courtship. Never before did I suppose that a man could make an offer of his hand by bellowing81 imprecations on his eyes, or that all the powers of the infernal regions could be appropriately summoned to bear witness to the beating of a lover's heart under the influence of the tender passion. I know it now, and I derive82 so little satisfaction from gaining the knowledge of it, that I determine on having the two intolerable old drunkards removed from the window, and sent to continue their cursing courtship elsewhere. The ostler is lounging about the bowling-green, scratching his bare brawny83 arms and yawning grimly in the mellow84 evening sunlight. I beckon85 to him, and ask him if he does not think those two old people have had beer enough? Yes, the ostler thinks they have. I inquire next if they can be removed from the premises86, before their language gets worse, without the risk of making any great disturbance87. The ostler says, Yes, they can, and calls to the potboy. When the potboy comes, he says, "Now then, Jack88!" and snatches the table away from the two ribald old people without another word. The old man's pipe is on the table; he rises and staggers forward to possess himself of it; the old woman rises, too, to hold him by the arm for fear he should fall flat on his face. The moment they are off the bench, the potboy snatches their seat away from behind them, and quietly joins the ostler who 32 is carrying their table into the inn. None of the other drinkers laugh at this proceeding89, or pay any attention to it; and the two intoxicated90 old people, left helpless on their legs, stagger away feebly without attracting the slightest notice. The neat stratagem91 which the ostler and the potboy have just performed, is evidently the customary and only possible mode of letting drinkers know when they have had enough at the Nag's Head. Where did those savage59 islanders live whose manners a certain sea-captain once upon a time described as no manners at all, and some of whose customs he reprobated as being very nasty? If I did not know that we are many miles distant from the coast, I should be almost disposed to suspect that the seafaring traveller whose opinion I have just quoted had been touching92 at the Nag's Head.
As it is impossible to snatch away all the tables and all the benches of all the company drinking and swearing in front of the house and behind it, I inquire of the ostler, the next time he comes near the window, at what time the tap closes? He tells me at eleven o'clock. It is hardly necessary to say that we put off going to bed until that time, when we retire for the night, drenched93 from head to foot, if I may so speak, in floods of bad language.
I cautiously put my head out of window, and see that the lights of the tap-room are really extinguished 33 at the appointed time. I hear the drinkers oozing94 out grossly into the pure freshness of the summer night. They all growl45 together; they all go together. All? Sinner and sufferer that I am, I have been premature95 in arriving at that happy conclusion! Six choice spirits, with a social horror in their souls of going home to bed, prop62 themselves against the wall of the inn, and continue the evening's conversazione in the darkness. I hear them cursing at each other by name. We have Tom, Dick, and Sam, Jem, Bill, and Bob to enliven us under our window, after we are in bed. They begin improving each other's minds, as a matter of course, by quarrelling. Music follows and soothes96 the strife98, in the shape of a local duet, sung by voices of vast compass, which soar in one note from howling bass99 to cracked treble. Yawning follows the duet; long, loud, weary yawning of all the company in chorus. This amusement over, Tom asks Dick for "baccer," and Dick denies that he has got any, and Tom tells him he lies, and Sam strikes in and says, "No, he doan't," and Jem tells Sam he lies, and Bill tells him that if he was Sam he would punch Jem's head, and Bob, apparently snuffing the battle from afar off and not liking100 the scent12 of it, shouts suddenly a pacific good night in the distance. The farewell salutation seems to quiet the gathering storm. They all roar responsive to the good-night roar of Bob. A 34 moment of silence, actually a moment, follows—then a repetition of the long, loud, weary yawning in chorus—then another moment of silence—then Jem suddenly shouts to the retiring Bob to come back—Bob refuses, softened102 by distance—Jem insists, and his four friends join him—Bob relents and returns. A shriek103 of indignation, far down the village—Bob's wife has her window open, and has heard him consent to go back to his friends. Hearty104 laughter from Bob's five friends; screams from Bob's wife; articulate screams, informing Bob that she will "cut his liver out," if he does not come home directly. Answering curses from Bob; he will "mash105" his wife, if she does not hold her tongue. A song in chorus from Bob's five friends. Outraged106 by this time past all endurance, I spring out of bed and seize the water-jug107. My wife, having the doctor's directions ever present to her mind, implores108 me in heart-rending tones to remember that I am under strict medical orders not to excite myself. I pay no heed109 to her remonstrances110, and advance to the window with the jug. I pause before I empty the water on the heads of the assembly beneath; I pause, and hear—O! most melodious111, most welcome of sounds!—the sudden fall of rain. The merciful sky has anticipated me; the "clerk of the weather" has been struck by my idea of dispersing112 the Nag's Head Night Club, by water. By the time I have put down 35 the jug and got back to bed, silence—primeval silence, the first, the foremost of all earthly influences—falls sweetly over our tavern113 at last.
That night, before sinking wearily to rest, I have once more the satisfaction of agreeing with my wife. Dear and admirable woman! she proposes to leave this secluded village the first thing to-morrow morning. Never did I share her opinion more cordially than I share it now. Instead of keeping myself composed, I have been living in a region of perpetual disturbance; and, as for doing nothing, my mind has been so agitated114 and perturbed115 that I have not even had time to think about it. We will go, love—as you so sensibly suggest—we will go the first thing in the morning, to any place you like, so long as it is large enough to swallow up small sounds. Where, over all the surface of this noisy earth, the blessing116 of tranquillity may be found, I know not; but this I do know: a secluded English village is the very last place towards which any man should think of turning his steps, if the main object of his walk through life is to discover quiet.
Note the Second. Discovery of—Nothing.
The next morning we continue our journey in the direction of the coast, and arrive at a large watering-place.
Observing that it is, in every respect, as unlike the 36 secluded village as possible, we resolve to take up our abode117 in this populous118 and perfectly tranquil39 town. We get a lodging119 fronting the sea. There are noises about us—various and loud noises, as I should have thought, if I had not just come from a village; but everything is comparative, and, after the past experience I have gone through, I find our new place of abode quiet enough to suit the moderate expectations which I have now learnt to form on the subject of getting peace in this world. Here I can at least think almost uninterruptedly of the doctor's orders. Here I may surely begin my new life, and enjoy the luxury of doing Nothing.
I suppose it is a luxury; and yet so perverse120 is man, I hardly know whether I am not beginning to find it something more like a hardship at the very outset. Perhaps my busy and active life has unfitted me for a due appreciation121 of the happiness of being idle. Perhaps I am naturally of a restless, feverish122 constitution. However that may be, it is certain that on the first day when I seriously determine to do nothing, I fail to find in the execution of my resolution such supreme123 comfort as I had anticipated. I try hard to fight against the conviction (which will steal on me, nevertheless) that I have only changed one kind of hard work for another that is harder. I try to persuade myself that time does not hang at all heavily on my hands, and that 37 I am happier with nothing to do than ever I was with a long day's work before me. Do I succeed or do I fail in this meritorious124 attempt? Let me write down the results of my first day's experience of the Art of doing Nothing, and let the reader settle the question for me.
Breakfast at nine o'clock, so as not to make too long a day of it. Among the other things on the table are shrimps125. I find myself liking shrimps for an entirely126 new reason—they take such a long time to eat. Well, breakfast is over at last: I have had quite enough, and yet I am gluttonously127 sorry when the table is cleared. If I were in health I should now go to my desk, or take up a book. But I am out of health, and I must do Nothing. Suppose I look out of window? I hope that is idle enough to begin with.
The sea—yes, yes, the sea! Very large, very grey, very calm; very calm, very grey, very large. Anything else about the sea? Nothing else about the sea.
Yes—ships. One big ship in front, two little ships behind. (What time shall we have dinner, my dear? At five? Certainly at five!) One big ship in front, two little ships behind. Nothing more to see? Nothing.
Let me look back into the room, and study the 38 subjects of these prints on the walls. First print:—Death of the Earl of Chatham in the House of Lords, after Copley, R.A. Just so. Curious idea this picture suggests of the uniformity of personal appearance which must have distinguished128 the Peers in the last century. Here is a house full of noble lords, and each one of them is exactly like the other. Every noble lord is tall, every noble lord is portly, every noble lord has a long receding129 forehead, and a majestic130 Roman nose. Odd; and leading to reflections on the physical changes that must have passed over the peerage of the present day, in which I might respectfully indulge, if the doctor had not ordered me to abstain from thinking.
Circumstanced as I am, I must mournfully dismiss the death of the Earl of Chatham, and pass from the work of Copley, R.A., to the other prints on the walls. Dear, dear me! Now I look again, there is nothing to pass to. There are only two other prints, and they are both classical landscapes. Deteriorated131 as the present condition of my faculties132 may be, my mind has not sunk yet to the level of Classical Landscape. I have still sense enough left to disbelieve in Claude and Poussin as painters of Italian scenery. Let me turn from the classical counterfeit133 to the modern reality. Let me look again at the sea.
Just as large, just as grey, just as calm as ever. 39 Any more ships? No; still the one big ship in front; still the two little ships behind. They have not altered their relative positions the least in the world. How long is it to dinner-time? Six hours and a quarter. What on earth am I to do? Nothing.
Suppose I go and take a little walk? (No, dear, I will not tire myself; I will come back quite fresh to take you out in the afternoon.) Well, which way shall I go, now I am on the door-step? There are two walks in this place. First walk, along the cliff westward134; second walk, along the cliff eastward135. Which direction shall I take? I am naturally one of the most decided men in the world; but doing nothing seems to have deprived me already of my usual resolute136 strength of will. I will toss up for it. Heads, westward; tails, eastward. Heads! Ought this to be considered conclusive137? or shall I begin again, and try the best of three? I will try the best of three, because it takes up more time. Heads, tails, heads! Westward still. Surely this is destiny. Or can it be that doing nothing has made me superstitious138 as well as irresolute139? Never mind; I will go westward, and see what happens.
I saunter along the path by the iron railings; then down a little dip, at the bottom of which there is a seat overlooking a ship-builder's yard. Close under me is a small coasting-vessel140 on the slips for repair. Nobody on board, but one old man at work. At 40 work, did I say? Oh, happy chance! This aged repairer of ships is the very man, of all others, whom I had most need of meeting, the very man to help me in my present emergency. Before I have looked at him two minutes, I feel that I am in the presence of a great professor of the art of doing nothing. Towards this sage141, to listen to his precepts142 and profit by his example, did destiny gently urge me, when I tossed up to decide between eastward and westward. Let me watch his proceedings143; let me learn how to idle systematically144 by observing the actions of this venerable man.
He is sitting on the left side of the vessel when I first look at him. In one hand he holds a crooked145 nail; in the other, a hammer. He coughs slowly, and looks out to sea; he sighs slowly, and looks back towards the land; he rises slowly, and surveys the deck of the vessel; he stoops slowly, and picks up a flat bit of iron, and puts it on the bulwark146, and places the crooked nail upon it, and then sits down and looks at the effect of the arrangement so far. When he has had enough of the arrangement, he gives the sea a turn again, then the land. After that, he steps back a little and looks at the hammer, weighs it gently in his hand, moistens his hand, advances to the crooked nail on the bit of iron, groans147 softly to himself and shakes his head as he looks at it, administers three deliberate taps with the hammer, 41 to straighten it, finds that he does not succeed to his mind; again groans softly, again shakes his head, again sits down and rests himself on the left side of the vessel. Since I first looked at him I have timed him by my watch: he has killed a quarter of an hour over that one crooked nail, and he has not straightened it yet! Wonderful man, can I ever hope to rival him? Will he condescend148 to talk to me? Stay! I am not free to try him; the doctor has told me not to excite myself with society; all communion of mind between me and this finished and perfect idler is, I fear, prohibited. Better to walk on, and come back, and look at him again.
I walk on and sit down; walk on a little farther and sit down again; walk on for the third time, sit down for the third time, and still there is always the cliff on one side of me, and the one big ship and the two little ships on the other. I retrace149 my steps, occupying as much time as I possibly can in getting back to the seat above the coasting-vessel. Where is my old friend, my esteemed150 professor, my bright and shining example in the difficult art of doing nothing? Sitting on the right side of the vessel this time, with the bit of flat iron on the right side also, with the hammer still in his hand, and, as I live, with the crooked nail not straightened yet! I observe this, and turn away quickly with despair in my heart. How can I, a 42 tyro151 Do-Nothing, expect to imitate that consummate152 old man? It is vain to hope for success here—vain to hope for anything but dinner-time. How many hours more? Four. If I return home now, how shall I go on doing nothing? Lunch, perhaps, will help me a little. Quite so! Let us say a glass of old ale and a biscuit. I should like to add shrimps—if I were not afraid of my wife's disapprobation—merely for the purpose of trying if I could not treat them, as my old friend of the coasting-vessel treated the crooked nail.
Three hours and a half to dinner-time. I have had my biscuit and my glass of old ale. Not being accustomed to malt liquor in the middle of the day, my lunch has fuddled me. There is a faint singing in my ears, an intense sleepiness in my eyelids153, a genial154 warmth about my stomach, and a sensation in my head as if the brains had oozed155 out of me and the cavity of my skull156 was stuffed with cotton-wool steeped in laudanum. Not an unpleasant feeling altogether. I am not anxious; I think of nothing. I have a stolid157 power of staring immovably out of window at the one big ship and the two little ships, which I had not hitherto given myself credit for possessing. If my wife would only push an easy-chair up close behind me, I could sink back in it and go to sleep; but she will do nothing of the sort. She is putting on her bonnet: it is the hour of the 43 afternoon at which we are to take each other out fondly, for our little walk.
The company at the watering-place is taking its little walk also at this time. But for the genial influence of the strong ale, I should now be making my observations and flying in the face of the doctor's orders by allowing my mind to be occupied. As it is, I march along slowly, lost in a solemn trance of beer.
One circumstance only, during our walk, is prominent enough to attract my sleepy attention. I just contrive158 to observe, with as much surprise and regret as I am capable of feeling at the present moment, that my wife apparently hates all the women we meet, and that all the women we meet, seem, judging by their looks, to return the compliment by hating my wife. We pass an infinite number of girls, all more or less plump, all more or less healthy, all more or less overshadowed by eccentric sea-side hats; and my wife will not allow that any one of these young creatures is even tolerably pretty. The young creatures on their side, look so disparagingly159 at my wife's bonnet and gown, that I should feel uneasy about the propriety160 of her costume, if I were not under the comforting influence of the strong ale. What is the meaning of this unpleasant want of harmony among the members of the fair sex? Does one woman hate another woman for being a woman—is that it? How 44 shocking if it is! I have no inclination161 to disparage162 other men whom I meet on my walk. Other men cast no disdainful looks on me. We lords of the creation are quite content to be handsome and attractive in our various ways, without snappishly contesting the palm of beauty with one another. Why cannot the women follow our meritorious example? Will any one solve this curious problem in social morals? Doctor's orders forbid me from attempting the intellectual feat163. The dire10 necessity of doing nothing narrows me to one subject of mental contemplation—the dinner-hour. How long is it—now we have returned from our walk—to that time? Two hours and a quarter. I can't look out of window again, for I know by instinct that the three ships and the calm grey sea are still lying in wait for me. I can't heave a patriot's sigh once more over the "Death of the Earl of Chatham." I am too tired to go out and see how the old man of the coasting-vessel is getting on with the crooked nail. In short, I am driven to my last refuge. I must take a nap.
The nap lasts more than an hour. Its results may be all summed up in one significant and dreadful word—Fidgets. I start from the sofa convulsively, and sit down bolt upright in a chair. My wife is opposite to me, calmly engaged over her work. It is an hour and five minutes to dinner-time. What am I to do? Shall I soothe97 the fidgets and soften101 my 45 rugged164 nature by looking at my wife, to see how she gets on with her work?
She has got a strip of calico, or something of that sort, punched all over with little holes, and she is sewing round each little hole with her needle and thread. Monotonous32, to a masculine mind. Surely the punching of the holes must be the pleasantest part of this sort of work? And that is done at the shop, is it, dear? How curious!
Does my wife lace too tight? I have never had leisure before to look at her so long and so attentively165 as I am looking now; I have been uncritically contented hitherto, to take her waist for granted. Now I have my doubts about it. I think the wife of my bosom166 is a little too much like an hour-glass. Does she digest? Good Heavens! In the existing state of her stays, how do I know whether she digests?
Then, as to her hair: I do not object to the dressing167 of it, but I think—strangely enough, for the first time since our marriage—that she uses too much bear's grease and bandoline. I see a thin rim23 of bandoline, shining just outside the line of hair against her temples, like varnish168 on a picture. This won't do—oh, dear, no—this won't do at all. Will her hands do? Certainly not! I discover, for the first time, that her hands won't do, either. I am mercifully ready to put up with their not being quite white 46 enough, but what does the woman mean by having such round tips to her fingers? Why don't they taper169? I always thought they did taper until this moment. I begin to be dissatisfied with her; I begin to think my wife is not the charming woman I took her for. What is the matter with me? Am I looking at her with perceptions made morbid170 already by excessive idleness? Is this dreadful necessity of doing nothing, to end by sapping the foundations of my matrimonial tranquillity, and letting down my whole connubial171 edifice172 into the bottomless abyss of Doctors' Commons? Horrible!
The door of the room opens, and wakes me, as it were, from the hideous173 dream in which my wife's individuality has been entirely altered to my eyes. It is only half an hour to dinner; and the servant has come in to lay the cloth. In the presence of the great event of the day I feel myself again. Once more I believe in the natural slimness of my wife's waist; once more I am contented with the tops of her fingers. Now at last, I see my way to bed-time. Assuming that we can make the dinner last two hours; assuming that I can get another nap after it; assuming——
No! I can assume nothing more, for I am really ashamed to complete the degrading picture of myself which my pen has been painting up to this time. Enough has been written—more than enough, I fear—to 47 show how completely I have failed in my first day's attempt at doing Nothing. The hardest labour I ever had to get through, was not so difficult to contend with as this enforced idleness. Never again will I murmur174 under the wholesome175 necessities of work. Never again—if I can only succeed in getting well—will a day of doing nothing be counted as pleasant holiday-time by me. I have stolen away at the dead of the night, in flat defiance176 of the doctor's directions, to relieve my unspeakable weariness by writing these lines. I cast them on the world as the brief personal narrative177 of a most unfortunate man. If I systematically disregard medical advice, I shall make myself ill. If I conscientiously178 obey it, how am I to get through to-morrow? I mustn't work, and I can't idle. Will anybody kindly179 tell me what I am to do?
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
anonymous
|
|
| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
bustle
|
|
| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
abstain
|
|
| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
annoyances
|
|
| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
tonic
|
|
| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
dire
|
|
| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
acquiescent
|
|
| adj.默许的，默认的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
elation
|
|
| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
diffuse
|
|
| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
festive
|
|
| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
rim
|
|
| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
landlady
|
|
| n.女房东，女地主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
seclusion
|
|
| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
fowls
|
|
| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
monotonously
|
|
| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
drowsy
|
|
| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
tranquillity
|
|
| n. 平静, 安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
secluded
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
waggon
|
|
| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
waggons
|
|
| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
growl
|
|
| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
growls
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
devouring
|
|
| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
procuring
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
jolting
|
|
| adj.令人震惊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
joyously
|
|
| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
lure
|
|
| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
prone
|
|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
savages
|
|
| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
assail
|
|
| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
prop
|
|
| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
vilest
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
67
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
spire
|
|
| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
glossy
|
|
| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
outrageously
|
|
| 凶残地； 肆无忌惮地； 令人不能容忍地； 不寻常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
blasphemous
|
|
| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
reposing
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
endearment
|
|
| n.表示亲爱的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
bellowing
|
|
| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
derive
|
|
| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
brawny
|
|
| adj.强壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
mellow
|
|
| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
beckon
|
|
| v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意，召唤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
intoxicated
|
|
| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
stratagem
|
|
| n.诡计，计谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
oozing
|
|
| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
premature
|
|
| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
soothes
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
soothe
|
|
| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
strife
|
|
| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
soften
|
|
| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
mash
|
|
| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
outraged
|
|
| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
jug
|
|
| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
implores
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
remonstrances
|
|
| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
melodious
|
|
| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
dispersing
|
|
| adj. 分散的 动词disperse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
tavern
|
|
| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
perturbed
|
|
| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
populous
|
|
| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
perverse
|
|
| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
meritorious
|
|
| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
shrimps
|
|
| n.虾，小虾( shrimp的名词复数 )；矮小的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
gluttonously
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
receding
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
deteriorated
|
|
| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
counterfeit
|
|
| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
eastward
|
|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
conclusive
|
|
| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
irresolute
|
|
| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
sage
|
|
| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
precepts
|
|
| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
systematically
|
|
| adv.有系统地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
bulwark
|
|
| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
groans
|
|
| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
condescend
|
|
| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
retrace
|
|
| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
esteemed
|
|
| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
tyro
|
|
| n.初学者；生手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
consummate
|
|
| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
oozed
|
|
| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
stolid
|
|
| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
disparagingly
|
|
| adv.以贬抑的口吻，以轻视的态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
disparage
|
|
| v.贬抑，轻蔑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
feat
|
|
| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
varnish
|
|
| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
taper
|
|
| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
morbid
|
|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
connubial
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，夫妇的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
edifice
|
|
| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
wholesome
|
|
| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
conscientiously
|
|
| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |