Grant, rubbing his eyes,—Can that possibly be Clifford?
Grant.—Aha! his gite is empty and cold! What an indefatigable16 fisherman!
Author.—Depend upon it, we shall not see him here for some hours to come.
Author.—And I shall follow your good example.
The very profound sleep into which we both of us sank, was at length interrupted by the return of Clifford with a beautiful dish of fresh trouts.
Clifford.—You lazy fellows! See what a glorious [100]morning’s work I have had while you have been snoring away like a couple of tailors. Look how large and how fine they are! There is one now, twice as big as any that was killed last night.
Author.—We are certainly greatly obliged to you for quitting your couch so early in order to procure18 us so luxurious19 a breakfast.
Clifford.—I don’t think that either of you deserve to share in it, though in truth you are already sufficiently20 punished for your indolence by missing the fine sport I have had, and therefore I shall act towards you with true Christian21 charity. Come then, my girl, get your fire up and your frying-pan in order, and I’ll stand cook.
Grant.—You must have had a delicious morning of it.
Clifford.—Charming! The effect of the sunrise on the lake was enchanting22, and the jumping of the trouts around me perfectly23 miraculous24.
Grant.—I am surprised that you could tear yourself away so soon.
Clifford.—I believe I should have been there for some hours to come, had not my barefooted boatman told me that it was time to get on shore, for that the clouds which we saw heaping themselves up to the westward25, threatened to discharge a storm upon us.
Grant.—I suspect that the fellow will turn out to be a true prophet. What a dreadful blast that was! Let us hurry out to witness the effects of it.
What a change had now taken place in the scene! The sun was already high above the horizon; but dense26 clouds hid his face from our view, and threw a deep inky hue over the whole face of nature, excepting only where the western blast took its furious course athwart the wide surface of the lake, lashing27 it up into white-crested billows, the sharp and fleeting28 lights of which acquired a double share of brilliancy amidst the general murky29 hue that prevailed everywhere around. The spray dashed over the island and the grey towers of the castle. The flocks of sea-mews, kittywakes, and other waterfowl that frequented the ruined walls, were whirled about in confused mazes30, like fragments of foam31 carried into the air, and were utterly32 unable to direct their flight by their own volition33. Nothing could be more sudden nor more sublime34 than this effect! It was so grand, and at the same time so transient, [101]that nothing but the ready eye and the matchless mind of the Reverend John Thomson, of Duddingstone, our great Scottish Salvator, could have seized and embodied35 it. It passed away as speedily as it had come. A heavy shower of rain fell after it was gone; and after that had ceased, all was stillness and sunshine.
When we again set out to pursue our way, which led by the margin36 of the loch, its waters were rippling37 gently with every light zephyr38 that fanned them, and sparkling and glowing under the untamed rays of the broad sun, whilst the sea-birds were partly wheeling over the deep with all their wonted variety and regularity39 of evolution, and partly dipping into the water, and partly resting in buoyant repose upon its swelling40 bosom.
Having waved our last adieu to Loch-an-Dorbe from the summit of a knoll41 at some distance from the lower end of it, we took our course across the moorland, where the views on all sides were peculiarly dull and dreary43. A black turf hut was now and then visible, proving that it was at least possible for human beings to live in this bare district; but all signs of cultivation44 were limited to a few wretched patches of arable45 ground lying along some of the small burns that here and there intersected the peat-mosses. Nothing could be more miserable46 than the country, or than the humble47 dwellings48 of its natives; and yet even here we fell in with a picture of human felicity that strongly arrested our attention.
A group of ragged50 urchins51 were sporting on a little spot of greensward before the door of one of these hovels, and shouting and laughing loudly at their own fun. The youngest was mounted on a huge gaunt-sided sow, with a back as sharp as that of a saw; whilst two elder imps52, one on either side, were holding him in his seat, and another was urging on the animal, by gently agitating53 the creature’s tail. All this was done without cruelty, and in the best humour. The father and mother had been in the act of building up their next year’s stock of peats into a stack, that rested against the weather gable of their dwelling49, so that it might do the double duty of sheltering them from the prevailing54 blast, as well as furnishing them with food for their kitchen fire. But the merry scene that was passing below had become too touchingly55 attractive to the hearts of both the parents, and their labour was [102]arrested in the most whimsical manner; for the man sat perched on all-fours on the top of the frail56 edifice57 he was engaged in rearing, grinning with broad delight at the gambols58 of his half-naked progeny59; and his wife’s attention having been arrested whilst she was in the very act of tossing up an armful of the black materials of her husband’s architecture, she still stood fixed60 like a statue, with her arm raised, quite unconscious of the inconvenience of her attitude, and entirely61 absorbed in her enjoyment62 of the spectacle, her whole countenance63 beaming with the maternal64 joy she felt, and giving way to sympathetic roars of merriment.
Grant.—You see it is not in the power of poverty altogether to extinguish human happiness.
Author.—Nay, no more than riches can ensure it.
Clifford.—How different the hard fortune of that poor creature from the sunshiny lot of those women of quality and fashion whom we have seen figuring in fancy dresses, and glittering like dancing Golcondas, at Almacks; and yet how much more heart and honesty and true mirth there is in that rustic65 laugh of hers than in all the hollow gaiety of that professed66 temple of pleasure.
Author.—This merry Maggy of the moor42 here has indeed received but a small share of the good things of this life, compared with that which has been showered on the proud heads of those wealthy and titled exclusives. But individual happiness must not by any means be measured by the degree of wealth. And then, when we direct our thoughts to our prospects67 of happiness in a future life, and reflect how apt those favourites of fortune are to be led astray by that very abundance which has been heaped upon them here below, we cannot but congratulate Maggy there as having at least the safer, if not the better, share of the treasures of this world.
Grant.—True; and we have the authority of almost every moral poet, from Horace to our Scottish Allan Ramsay, for the great truth that even happiness in this world is to be more readily found in a comfortable middle state than in either of the extremes,—
“He that hath just enough can soundly sleep,
The o’ercome only fashes folk to keep.”
Clifford.—Ha! ha! sermons and poetry for pilgrims in [103]the desert! But then arises the difficult question, what is it that constitutes that “just enough” which the poet holds to be the talisman68 of human happiness.
Grant.—Give economy fair play, and it will make that talisman out of anything.
Author.—And so, on the other hand, extravagance could never possess it, even if the subterranean69 treasures of Aladdin, or the diamond valley of Sinbad, were to be placed at its disposal.
Clifford.—Your allusion70 to the Arabian tales puts me in mind of our story-telling; and the subject we have now accidentally got upon brings to my recollection a remarkable71 story which you once related to me, Grant.
Grant.—You mean the legend of John Macpherson of Invereshie.
Clifford.—The same. Pray tell it to our friend here.
Grant.—If you, who have heard it before, have no objections to the repetition of it, I can have none to the telling of it.
点击收听单词发音
1 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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2 persevering | |
a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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3 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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4 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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5 unwillingly | |
adv.不情愿地 | |
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6 dressing | |
n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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7 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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8 inhale | |
v.吸入(气体等),吸(烟) | |
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9 draughts | |
n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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10 aurora | |
n.极光 | |
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11 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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12 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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13 oars | |
n.桨,橹( oar的名词复数 );划手v.划(行)( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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14 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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15 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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16 indefatigable | |
adj.不知疲倦的,不屈不挠的 | |
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17 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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18 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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19 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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20 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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21 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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22 enchanting | |
a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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23 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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24 miraculous | |
adj.像奇迹一样的,不可思议的 | |
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25 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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26 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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27 lashing | |
n.鞭打;痛斥;大量;许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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28 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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29 murky | |
adj.黑暗的,朦胧的;adv.阴暗地,混浊地;n.阴暗;昏暗 | |
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30 mazes | |
迷宫( maze的名词复数 ); 纷繁复杂的规则; 复杂难懂的细节; 迷宫图 | |
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31 foam | |
v./n.泡沫,起泡沫 | |
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32 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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33 volition | |
n.意志;决意 | |
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34 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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35 embodied | |
v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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36 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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37 rippling | |
起涟漪的,潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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38 zephyr | |
n.和风,微风 | |
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39 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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40 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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41 knoll | |
n.小山,小丘 | |
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42 moor | |
n.荒野,沼泽;vt.(使)停泊;vi.停泊 | |
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43 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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44 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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45 arable | |
adj.可耕的,适合种植的 | |
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46 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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47 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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48 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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49 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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50 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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51 urchins | |
n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 );淘气鬼;猬;海胆 | |
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52 imps | |
n.(故事中的)小恶魔( imp的名词复数 );小魔鬼;小淘气;顽童 | |
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53 agitating | |
搅动( agitate的现在分词 ); 激怒; 使焦虑不安; (尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而)激烈争论 | |
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54 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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55 touchingly | |
adv.令人同情地,感人地,动人地 | |
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56 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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57 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
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58 gambols | |
v.蹦跳,跳跃,嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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59 progeny | |
n.后代,子孙;结果 | |
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60 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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61 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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62 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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63 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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64 maternal | |
adj.母亲的,母亲般的,母系的,母方的 | |
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65 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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66 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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67 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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68 talisman | |
n.避邪物,护身符 | |
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69 subterranean | |
adj.地下的,地表下的 | |
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70 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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71 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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