In order to convey a better idea of it, some account may as well be given of the place it came from. A very old garret of a very old house in an old-fashioned quarter of one of the oldest towns in America. This garret had been closed for years. It was thought to be haunted;[10] a rumor9, I confess, which, however absurd (in my opinion), I did not, at the time of purchasing, very vehemently10 contradict; since, not improbably, it tended to place the property the more conveniently within my means.
It was, therefore, from no dread11 of the reputed goblins aloft, that, for five years after first taking up my residence in the house, I never entered the garret. There was no special inducement. The roof was well slated14, and thoroughly15 tight. The company that insured the house, waived16 all visitation of the garret; why, then, should the owner be over-anxious about it?—particularly, as he had no use for it, the house having ample room below. Then the key of the stair-door leading to it was lost. The lock was a huge old-fashioned one. To open it, a smith would have to be called; an unnecessary trouble, I thought. Besides, though I had taken some care to keep my two daughters in ignorance of the rumor above-mentioned, still, they had, by some means, got an inkling of it, and were well enough pleased to see the entrance to the haunted ground closed. It might have remained so for a still longer time, had it not been for my accidentally discovering, in a[11] corner of our glen-like, old, terraced garden, a large and curious key, very old and rusty17, which I at once concluded must belong to the garret-door—a supposition which, upon trial, proved correct. Now, the possession of a key to anything, at once provokes a desire to unlock and explore; and this, too, from a mere18 instinct of gratification, irrespective of any particular benefit to accrue19.
Behold21 me, then, turning the rusty old key, and going up, alone, into the haunted garret. It embraced the entire area of the mansion23. Its ceiling was formed by the roof, showing the rafters and boards on which the slates24 were laid. The roof shedding the water four ways from a high point in the centre, the space beneath was much like that of a general's marquee—only midway broken by a labyrinth25 of timbers, for braces26, from which waved innumerable cobwebs, that, of a summer's noon, shone like Bagdad tissues and gauzes. On every hand, some strange insect was seen, flying, or running, or creeping, on rafter and floor.
Under the apex27 of the roof was a rude, narrow, decrepit28 step-ladder, something like a Gothic pulpit-stairway, leading to a pulpit-like[12] platform, from which a still narrower ladder—a sort of Jacob's ladder—led somewhat higher to the lofty scuttle29. The slide of this scuttle was about two feet square, all in one piece, furnishing a massive frame for a single small pane30 of glass, inserted into it like a bull's-eye. The light of the garret came from this sole source, filtrated through a dense31 curtain of cobwebs. Indeed, the whole stairs, and platform, and ladder, were festooned, and carpeted, and canopied32 with cobwebs; which, in funereal33 accumulations, hung, too, from the groined, murky34 ceiling, like the Carolina moss35 in the cypress36 forest. In these cobwebs, swung, as in aerial catacombs, myriads37 of all tribes of mummied insects.
Climbing the stairs to the platform, and pausing there, to recover my breath, a curious scene was presented. The sun was about half-way up. Piercing the little sky-light, it slopingly bored a rainbowed tunnel clear across the darkness of the garret. Here, millions of butterfly moles39 were swarming40. Against the sky-light itself, with a cymbal-like buzzing, thousands of insects clustered in a golden mob.
Wishing to shed a clearer light through the[13] place, I sought to withdraw the scuttle-slide. But no sign of latch41 or hasp was visible. Only after long peering, did I discover a little padlock, imbedded, like an oyster42 at the bottom of the sea, amid matted masses of weedy webs, chrysalides, and insectivorous eggs. Brushing these away, I found it locked. With a crooked nail, I tried to pick the lock, when scores of small ants and flies, half-torpid, crawled forth43 from the keyhole, and, feeling the warmth of the sun in the pane, began frisking around me. Others appeared. Presently, I was overrun by them. As if incensed44 at this invasion of their retreat, countless45 bands darted46 up from below, beating about my head, like hornets. At last, with a sudden jerk, I burst open the scuttle. And ah! what a change. As from the gloom of the grave and the companionship of worms, men shall at last rapturously rise into the living greenness and glory-immortal, so, from my cobwebbed old garret, I thrust forth my head into the balmy air, and found myself hailed by the verdant47 tops of great trees, growing in the little garden below—trees, whose leaves soared high above my topmost slate13.
Refreshed by this outlook, I turned inward[14] to behold the garret, now unwontedly lit up. Such humped masses of obsolete49 furniture. An old escritoire, from whose pigeon-holes sprang mice, and from whose secret drawers came subterranean50 squeakings, as from chipmunks51' holes in the woods; and broken-down old chairs, with strange carvings52, which seemed fit to seat a conclave53 of conjurors. And a rusty, iron-bound chest, lidless, and packed full of mildewed54 old documents; one of which, with a faded red ink-blot at the end, looked as if it might have been the original bond that Doctor Faust gave to Mephistopheles. And, finally, in the least lighted corner of all, where was a profuse55 litter of indescribable old rubbish—among which was a broken telescope, and a celestial56 globe staved in—stood the little old table, one hoofed58 foot, like that of the Evil One, dimly revealed through the cobwebs. What a thick dust, half paste, had settled upon the old vials and flasks; how their once liquid contents had caked, and how strangely looked the mouldy old book in the middle—Cotton Mather's Magnalia.
Table and book I removed below, and had the dislocations of the one and the tatters of[15] the other repaired. I resolved to surround this sad little hermit59 of a table, so long banished60 from genial61 neighborhood, with all the kindly62 influences of warm urns63, warm fires, and warm hearts, little dreaming what all this warm nursing would hatch.
I was pleased by the discovery that the table was not of the ordinary mahogany, but of apple-tree-wood, which age had darkened nearly to walnut64. It struck me as being an appropriate piece of furniture for our cedar-parlor—so called, from its being, after the old fashion, wainscoted with that wood. The table's round slab, or orb65, was so contrived66 as to be readily changed from a horizontal to a perpendicular67 position; so that, when not in use, it could be snugly68 placed in a corner. For myself, wife, and two daughters, I thought it would make a nice little breakfast and tea-table. It was just the thing for a whist-table, too. And I also pleased myself with the idea that it would make a famous reading-table.
In these fancies, my wife, for one, took little interest. She disrelished the idea of so unfashionable and indigent-looking a stranger as the table intruding69 into the polished society of[16] more prosperous furniture. But when, after seeking its fortune at the cabinet-maker's, the table came home, varnished70 over, bright as a guinea, no one exceeded my wife in a gracious reception of it. It was advanced to an honorable position in the cedar-parlor.
But, as for my daughter Julia, she never got over her strange emotions upon first accidentally encountering the table. Unfortunately, it was just as I was in the act of bringing it down from the garret. Holding it by the slab, I was carrying it before me, one cobwebbed hoof57 thrust out, which weird71 object at a turn of the stairs, suddenly touched my girl, as she was ascending72; whereupon, turning, and seeing no living creature—for I was quite hidden behind my shield—seeing nothing indeed, but the apparition73 of the Evil One's foot, as it seemed, she cried out, and there is no knowing what might have followed, had I not immediately spoken.
From the impression thus produced, my poor girl, of a very nervous temperament75, was long recovering. Superstitiously76 grieved at my violating the forbidden solitude77 above, she associated in her mind the cloven-footed table[17] with the reputed goblins there. She besought78 me to give up the idea of domesticating79 the table. Nor did her sister fail to add her entreaties80. Between my girls there was a constitutional sympathy. But my matter-of-fact wife had now declared in the table's favor. She was not wanting in firmness and energy. To her, the prejudices of Julia and Anna were simply ridiculous. It was her maternal81 duty, she thought, to drive such weakness away. By degrees, the girls, at breakfast and tea, were induced to sit down with us at the table. Continual proximity82 was not without effect. By and by, they would sit pretty tranquilly83, though Julia, as much as possible, avoided glancing at the hoofed feet, and, when at this I smiled, she would look at me seriously—as much as to say, Ah, papa, you, too, may yet do the same. She prophesied85 that, in connection with the table, something strange would yet happen. But I would only smile the more, while my wife indignantly chided.
Meantime, I took particular satisfaction in my table, as a night reading-table. At a ladies' fair, I bought me a beautifully worked reading-cushion, and, with elbow leaning thereon,[18] and hand shading my eyes from the light, spent many a long hour—nobody by, but the queer old book I had brought down from the garret.
All went well, till the incident now about to be given—an incident, be it remembered, which, like every other in this narration86, happened long before the time of the "Fox Girls."
It was late on a Saturday night in December. In the little old cedar-parlor, before the little old apple-tree table, I was sitting up, as usual, alone. I had made more than one effort to get up and go to bed; but I could not. I was, in fact, under a sort of fascination87. Somehow, too, certain reasonable opinions of mine, seemed not so reasonable as before. I felt nervous. The truth was, that though, in my previous night-readings, Cotton Mather had but amused me, upon this particular night he terrified me. A thousand times I had laughed at such stories. Old wives' fables88, I thought, however entertaining. But now, how different. They began to put on the aspect of reality. Now, for the first time it struck me that this was no romantic Mrs. Radcliffe, who had written the Magnalia; but a practical, hard-working, earnest, upright man, a learned doctor,[19] too, as well as a good Christian89 and orthodox clergyman. What possible motive90 could such a man have to deceive? His style had all the plainness and unpoetic boldness of truth. In the most straightforward91 way, he laid before me detailed92 accounts of New England witchcraft93, each important item corroborated94 by respectable townsfolk, and, of not a few of the most surprising, he himself had been eye-witness. Cotton Mather testified himself whereof he had seen. But, is it possible? I asked myself. Then I remembered that Dr. Johnson, the matter-of-fact compiler of a dictionary, had been a believer in ghosts, besides many other sound, worthy95 men. Yielding to the fascination, I read deeper and deeper into the night. At last, I found myself starting at the least chance sound, and yet wishing that it were not so very still.
A tumbler of warm punch stood by my side, with which beverage96, in a moderate way, I was accustomed to treat myself every Saturday night; a habit, however, against which my good wife had long remonstrated97; predicting that, unless I gave it up, I would yet die a miserable98 sot. Indeed, I may here mention that, on the[20] Sunday mornings following my Saturday nights, I had to be exceedingly cautious how I gave way to the slightest impatience99 at any accidental annoyance100; because such impatience was sure to be quoted against me as evidence of the melancholy101 consequences of over-night indulgence. As for my wife, she, never sipping102 punch, could yield to any little passing peevishness103 as much as she pleased.
But, upon the night in question, I found myself wishing that, instead of my usual mild mixture, I had concocted104 some potent105 draught106. I felt the need of stimulus107. I wanted something to hearten me against Cotton Mather—doleful, ghostly, ghastly Cotton Mather. I grew more and more nervous. Nothing but fascination kept me from fleeing the room. The candles burnt low, with long snuffs, and huge winding-sheets. But I durst not raise the snuffers to them. It would make too much noise. And yet, previously108, I had been wishing for noise. I read on and on. My hair began to have a sensation. My eyes felt strained; they pained me. I was conscious of it. I knew I was injuring them. I knew I should rue20 this abuse of them next day; but I read on and on. I could[21] not help it. The skinny hand was on me.
All at once—Hark!
My hair felt like growing grass.
A faint sort of inward rapping or rasping—a strange, inexplicable109 sound, mixed with a slight kind of wood-pecking or ticking.
Tick! Tick!
Yes, it was a faint sort of ticking.
I looked up at my great Strasbourg clock in one corner. It was not that. The clock had stopped.
Tick! Tick!
Was it my watch?
According to her usual practice at night, my wife had, upon retiring, carried my watch off to our chamber110 to hang it up on its nail.
I listened with all my ears.
Tick! Tick!
Was it a death-tick in the wainscot?
With a tremulous step I went all round the room, holding my ear to the wainscot.
No; it came not from the wainscot.
Tick! Tick!
I shook myself. I was ashamed of my fright.
Tick! Tick!
[22]
It grew in precision and audibleness. I retreated from the wainscot. It seemed advancing to meet me.
I looked round and round, but saw nothing, only one cloven foot of the little apple-tree table.
Bless me, said I to myself, with a sudden revulsion, it must be very late; ain't that my wife calling me? Yes, yes; I must to bed. I suppose all is locked up. No need to go the rounds.
The fascination had departed, though the fear had increased. With trembling hands, putting Cotton Mather out of sight, I soon found myself, candlestick in hand, in my chamber, with a peculiar111 rearward feeling, such as some truant112 dog may feel. In my eagerness to get well into the chamber, I stumbled against a chair.
"Do try and make less noise, my dear," said my wife from the bed.
"You have been taking too much of that punch, I fear. That sad habit grows on you. Ah, that I should ever see you thus staggering at night into your chamber."
[23]
"Poor old man—quite out of his mind—I knew it would be so. Come to bed; come and sleep it off."
"Wife, wife!"
"Do, do come to bed. I forgive you. I won't remind you of it to-morrow. But you must give up the punch-drinking, my dear. It quite gets the better of you."
"Don't exasperate114 me," I cried now, truly beside myself; "I will quit the house!"
"No, no! not in that state. Come to bed, my dear. I won't say another word."
The next morning, upon waking, my wife said nothing about the past night's affair, and, feeling no little embarrassment115 myself, especially at having been thrown into such a panic, I also was silent. Consequently, my wife must still have ascribed my singular conduct to a mind disordered, not by ghosts, but by punch. For my own part, as I lay in bed watching the sun in the panes116, I began to think that much midnight reading of Cotton Mather was not good for man; that it had a morbid117 influence upon the nerves, and gave rise to hallucinations. I resolved to put Cotton Mather permanently118 aside. That done, I had no fear of any[24] return of the ticking. Indeed, I began to think that what seemed the ticking in the room, was nothing but a sort of buzzing in my ear.
As is her wont48, my wife having preceded me in rising, I made a deliberate and agreeable toilet. Aware that most disorders119 of the mind have their origin in the state of the body, I made vigorous use of the flesh-brush, and bathed my head with New England rum, a specific once recommended to me as good for buzzing in the ear. Wrapped in my dressing120 gown, with cravat121 nicely adjusted, and fingernails neatly122 trimmed, I complacently123 descended124 to the little cedar-parlor to breakfast.
What was my amazement125 to find my wife on her knees, rummaging126 about the carpet nigh the little apple-tree table, on which the morning meal was laid, while my daughters, Julia and Anna, were running about the apartment distracted.
"Oh, papa, papa!" cried Julia, hurrying up to me, "I knew it would be so. The table, the table!"
"Silence!" cried my wife. "How can I hear[25] it, if you make such a noise? Be still. Come here, husband; was this the ticking you spoke74 of? Why don't you move? Was this it? Here, kneel down and listen to it. Tick, tick, tick!—don't you hear it now?"
"I do, I do," cried I, while my daughters besought us both to come away from the spot.
Tick, tick, tick!
Right from under the snowy cloth, and the cheerful urn22, and the smoking milk-toast, the unaccountable ticking was heard.
"Ain't there a fire in the next room, Julia," said I, "let us breakfast there, my dear," turning to my wife—"let us go—leave the table—tell Biddy to remove the things."
And so saying I was moving towards the door in high self-possession, when my wife interrupted me.
"Before I quit this room, I will see into this ticking," she said with energy.
"It is something that can be found out, depend upon it. I don't believe in spirits, especially at breakfast-time. Biddy! Biddy! Here, carry these things back to the kitchen," handing the urn. Then, sweeping129 off the cloth, the little table lay bare to the eye.
[26]
"It's the table, the table!" cried Julia.
"Nonsense," said my wife, "Who ever heard of a ticking table? It's on the floor. Biddy! Julia! Anna! move everything out of the room—table and all. Where are the tack-hammers?"
"Heavens, mamma—you are not going to take up the carpet?" screamed Julia.
"Here's the hammers, marm," said Biddy, advancing tremblingly.
"Hand them to me, then," cried my wife; for poor Biddy was, at long gun-distance, holding them out as if her mistress had the plague.
"Now, husband, do you take up that side of the carpet, and I will this." Down on her knees she then dropped, while I followed suit.
The carpet being removed, and the ear applied130 to the naked floor, not the slightest ticking could be heard.
"The table—after all, it is the table," cried my wife. "Biddy, bring it back."
"Foolish creature!—Husband, do you bring it."
"My dear," said I, "we have plenty of other tables; why be so particular?"
[27]
"Where is that table?" cried my wife, contemptuously, regardless of my gentle remonstrance132.
"In the wood-house, marm. I put it away as far as ever I could, marm," sobbed Biddy.
"Shall I go to the wood-house for it, or will you?" said my wife, addressing me in a frightful133, businesslike manner.
Immediately I darted out of the door, and found the little apple-tree table, upside down, in one of my chip-bins. I hurriedly returned with it, and once more my wife examined it attentively134. Tick, tick, tick! Yes, it was the table.
"Please, marm," said Biddy, now entering the room, with hat and shawl—"please, marm, will you pay me my wages?"
"Take your hat and shawl off directly," said my wife; "set this table again."
"Set it," roared I, in a passion, "set it, or I'll go for the police."
"Heavens! heavens!" cried my daughters, in one breath. "What will become of us!—Spirits! spirits!"
"Will you set the table?" cried I, advancing upon Biddy.
[28]
"I will, I will—yes, marm—yes, master—I will, I will. Spirits!—Holy Vargin!"
"Now, husband," said my wife, "I am convinced that, whatever it is that causes this ticking, neither the ticking nor the table can hurt us; for we are all good Christians135, I hope. I am determined136 to find out the cause of it, too, which time and patience will bring to light. I shall breakfast on no other table but this, so long as we live in this house. So, sit down, now that all things are ready again, and let us quietly breakfast. My dears," turning to Julia and Anna, "go to your room, and return composed. Let me have no more of this childishness."
Upon occasion my wife was mistress in her house.
During the meal, in vain was conversation started again and again; in vain my wife said something brisk to infuse into others an animation137 akin12 to her own. Julia and Anna, with heads bowed over their tea-cups, were still listening for the tick. I confess, too, that their example was catching138. But, for the time, nothing was heard. Either the ticking had died quite away, or else, slight as it was, the increasing uproar139 of the street, with the general hum of[29] day so contrasted with the repose140 of night and early morning, smothered141 the sound. At the lurking142 inquietude of her companions, my wife was indignant; the more so, as she seemed to glory in her own exemption143 from panic. When breakfast was cleared away she took my watch, and, placing it on the table, addressed the supposed spirits in it, with a jocosely144 defiant146 air:
"There, tick away, let us see who can tick loudest!"
All that day, while abroad, I thought of the mysterious table. Could Cotton Mather speak true? Were there spirits? And would spirits haunt a tea-table? Would the Evil One dare show his cloven foot in the bosom147 of an innocent family? I shuddered148 when I thought that I myself, against the solemn warnings of my daughters, had wilfully149 introduced the cloven foot there. Yea, three cloven feet. But, towards noon, this sort of feeling began to wear off. The continual rubbing against so many practical people in the street, brushed such chimeras150 away from me. I remembered that I had not acquitted151 myself very intrepidly153 either on the previous night or in the morning. I resolved to regain154 the good opinion of my wife.
[30]
To evince my hardihood the more signally, when tea was dismissed, and the three rubbers of whist had been played, and no ticking had been heard—which the more encouraged me—I took my pipe, and, saying that bed-time had arrived for the rest, drew my chair towards the fire, and, removing my slippers155, placed my feet on the fender, looking as calm and composed as old Democritus in the tombs of Abdera, when one midnight the mischievous156 little boys of the town tried to frighten that sturdy philosopher with spurious ghosts.
And I thought to myself, that the worthy old gentleman had set a good example to all times in his conduct on that occasion. For, when at the dead hour, intent on his studies, he heard the strange sounds, he did not so much as move his eyes from his page, only simply said: "Boys, little boys, go home. This is no place for you. You will catch cold here." The philosophy of which words lies here: that they imply the foregone conclusion, that any possible investigation157 of any possible spiritual phenomena158 was absurd; that upon the first face of such things, the mind of a sane159 man instinctively160 affirmed them a humbug161, unworthy the[31] least attention; more especially if such phenomena appear in tombs, since tombs are peculiarly the place of silence, lifelessness, and solitude; for which cause, by the way, the old man, as upon the occasion in question, made the tombs of Abdera his place of study.
Presently I was alone, and all was hushed. I laid down my pipe, not feeling exactly tranquil84 enough now thoroughly to enjoy it. Taking up one of the newspapers, I began, in a nervous, hurried sort of way, to read by the light of a candle placed on a small stand drawn163 close to the fire. As for the apple-tree table, having lately concluded that it was rather too low for a reading-table, I thought best not to use it as such that night. But it stood not very distant in the middle of the room.
Try as I would, I could not succeed much at reading. Somehow I seemed all ear and no eye; a condition of intense auricular suspense164. But ere long it was broken.
Tick! tick! tick!
Though it was not the first time I had heard that sound; nay165, though I had made it my particular business on this occasion to wait for that sound, nevertheless, when it came, it seemed[32] unexpected, as if a cannon166 had boomed through the window.
Tick! tick! tick!
I sat stock still for a time, thoroughly to master, if possible, my first discomposure. Then rising, I looked pretty steadily167 at the table; went up to it pretty steadily; took hold of it pretty steadily; but let it go pretty quickly; then paced up and down, stopping every moment or two, with ear pricked168 to listen. Meantime, within me, the contest between panic and philosophy remained not wholly decided169.
Tick! tick! tick!
My pulse fluttered—my heart beat. I hardly know what might not have followed, had not Democritus just then come to the rescue. For shame, said I to myself, what is the use of so fine an example of philosophy, if it cannot be followed? Straightway I resolved to imitate it, even to the old sage's occupation and attitude.
Resuming my chair and paper, with back presented to the table, I remained thus for a time, as if buried in study, when, the ticking[33] still continuing, I drawled out, in as indifferent and dryly jocose145 a way as I could; "Come, come, Tick, my boy, fun enough for to-night."
Tick! tick! tick!
There seemed a sort of jeering171 defiance172 in the ticking now. It seemed to exult173 over the poor affected174 part I was playing. But much as the taunt175 stung me, it only stung me into persistence176. I resolved not to abate177 one whit178 in my mode of address.
"Come, come, you make more and more noise, Tick, my boy; too much of a joke—time to have done."
No sooner said than the ticking ceased. Never was responsive obedience179 more exact. For the life of me, I could not help turning round upon the table, as one would upon some reasonable being, when—could I believe my senses? I saw something moving, or wriggling180, or squirming upon the slab of the table. It shone like a glow-worm. Unconsciously, I grasped the poker181 that stood at hand. But bethinking me how absurd to attack a glow-worm with a poker, I put it down. How long I sat spellbound and staring there, with my body presented one way and my face another, I cannot[34] say; but at length I rose, and, buttoning my coat up and down, made a sudden intrepid152 forced march full upon the table. And there, near the centre of the slab, as I live, I saw an irregular little hole, or, rather, short nibbled182 sort of crack, from which (like a butterfly escaping its chrysalis) the sparkling object, whatever it might be, was struggling. Its motion was the motion of life. I stood becharmed. Are there, indeed, spirits, thought I; and is this one? No; I must be dreaming. I turned my glance off to the red fire on the hearth183, then back to the pale lustre184 on the table. What I saw was no optical illusion, but a real marvel185. The tremor186 was increasing, when, once again, Democritus befriended me. Supernatural coruscation187 as it appeared, I strove to look at the strange object in a purely188 scientific way. Thus viewed, it appeared some new sort of small shining beetle189 or bug162, and, I thought, not without something of a hum to it, too.
I still watched it, and with still increasing self-possession. Sparkling and wriggling, it still continued its throes. In another moment it was just on the point of escaping its prison. A thought struck me. Running for a tumbler,[35] I clapped it over the insect just in time to secure it.
After watching it a while longer under the tumbler, I left all as it was, and, tolerably composed, retired190.
Now, for the soul of me, I could not, at that time, comprehend the phenomenon. A live bug come out of a dead table? A fire-fly bug come out of a piece of ancient lumber191, for one knows not how many years stored away in an old garret? Was ever such a thing heard of, or even dreamed of? How got the bug there? Never mind. I bethought me of Democritus, and resolved to keep cool. At all events, the mystery of the ticking was explained. It was simply the sound of the gnawing192 and filing, and tapping of the bug, in eating its way out. It was satisfactory to think, that there was an end forever to the ticking. I resolved not to let the occasion pass without reaping some credit from it.
"Wife," said I, next morning, "you will not be troubled with any more ticking in our table. I have put a stop to all that."
"Indeed, husband," said she, with some incredulity.
"Yes, wife," returned I, perhaps a little[36] vaingloriously, "I have put a quietus upon that ticking. Depend upon it, the ticking will trouble you no more."
In vain she besought me to explain myself. I would not gratify her; being willing to balance any previous trepidation193 I might have betrayed, by leaving room now for the imputation194 of some heroic feat5 whereby I had silenced the ticking. It was a sort of innocent deceit by implication, quite harmless, and, I thought, of utility.
But when I went to breakfast, I saw my wife kneeling at the table again, and my girls looking ten times more frightened than ever.
"Why did you tell me that boastful tale," said my wife, indignantly. "You might have known how easily it would be found out. See this crack, too; and here is the ticking again, plainer than ever."
"Impossible," I explained; but upon applying my ear, sure enough, tick! tick! tick! The ticking was there.
Recovering myself the best way I might, I demanded the bug.
"Bug?" screamed Julia, "Good heavens, papa!"
[37]
"The bug, the bug!" I cried; "the bug under the tumbler."
"Bugs in tumblers!" cried the girls; "not our tumblers, papa? You have not been putting bugs into our tumblers? Oh, what does—what does it all mean?"
"Do you see this hole, this crack here?" said I, putting my finger on the spot.
"That I do," said my wife, with high displeasure. "And how did it come there? What have you been doing to the table?"
"Do you see this crack?" repeated I, intensely.
"Yes, yes," said Julia; "that was what frightened me so; it looks so like witch-work."
"Spirits! spirits!" cried Anna.
"Silence!" said my wife. "Go on, sir, and tell us what you know of the crack."
"Wife and daughters," said I, solemnly, "out of that crack, or hole, while I was sitting all alone here last night, a wonderful—"
Here, involuntarily, I paused, fascinated by the expectant attitudes and bursting eyes of Julia and Anna.
"What, what?" cried Julia.
[38]
"A bug, Julia."
"Bug?" cried my wife. "A bug come out of this table? And what did you do with it?"
"Clapped it under a tumbler."
"Biddy! Biddy!" cried my wife, going to the door. "Did you see a tumbler here on this table when you swept the room?"
"Sure I did, marm, and 'bomnable bug under it."
"And what did you do with it?" demanded I.
"Where is that tumbler?" cried Anna. "I hope you scratched it—marked it some way. I'll never drink out of that tumbler; never put it before me, Biddy. A bug—a bug! Oh, Julia! Oh, mamma! I feel it crawling all over me, even now. Haunted table!"
"Spirits! spirits!" cried Julia.
"My daughters," said their mother, with authority in her eyes, "go to your chamber till you can behave more like reasonable creatures. Is it a bug—a bug that can frighten you out of what little wits you ever had? Leave the room. I am astonished, I am pained by such childish conduct."
[39]
"Now tell me," said she, addressing me, as soon as they had withdrawn198, "now tell me truly, did a bug really come out of this crack in the table?"
"Wife, it is even so."
"Did you see it come out?"
"I did."
She looked earnestly at the crack, leaning over it.
"Sure, sure."
She was silent. I began to think that the mystery of the thing began to tell even upon her. Yes, thought I, I shall presently see my wife shaking and shuddering200, and, who knows, calling in some old dominie to exorcise the table, and drive out the spirits.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said she suddenly, and not without excitement.
"What, wife?" said I, all eagerness, expecting some mystical proposition; "what, wife?"
"We will rub this table all over with that celebrated201 'roach powder' I've heard of."
"Good gracious! Then you don't think it's spirits?"
[40]
"Spirits?"
The emphasis of scornful incredulity was worthy of Democritus himself.
"But this ticking—this ticking?" said I.
"I'll whip that out of it."
"Come, come, wife," said I, "you are going too far the other way, now. Neither roach powder nor whipping will cure this table. It's a queer table, wife; there's no blinking it."
"I'll have it rubbed, though," she replied, "well rubbed;" and calling Biddy, she bade her get wax and brush, and give the table a vigorous manipulation. That done, the cloth was again laid, and we sat down to our morning meal; but my daughters did not make their appearance. Julia and Anna took no breakfast that day.
When the cloth was removed, in a businesslike way, my wife went to work with a dark colored cement, and hermetically closed the little hole in the table.
My daughters looking pale, I insisted upon taking them out for a walk that morning, when the following conversation ensued:
"My worst presentiments202 about that table are being verified, papa," said Julia; "not for[41] nothing was that intimation of the cloven foot on my shoulder."
"Nonsense," said I. "Let us go into Mrs. Brown's, and have an ice-cream."
The spirit of Democritus was stronger on me now. By a curious coincidence, it strengthened with the strength of the sunlight.
"But is it not miraculous," said Anna, "how a bug should come out of a table?"
"Not at all, my daughter. It is a very common thing for bugs to come out of wood. You yourself must have seen them coming out of the ends of the billets on the hearth."
"Ah, but that wood is almost fresh from the woodland. But the table is at least a hundred years old."
"What of that?" said I, gayly. "Have not live toads203 been found in the hearts of dead rocks, as old as creation?"
"Say what you will, papa, I feel it is spirits," said Julia. "Do, do now, my dear papa, have that haunted table removed from the house."
"Nonsense," said I.
By another curious coincidence, the more they felt frightened, the more I felt brave.
Evening came.
[42]
"This ticking," said my wife; "do you think that another bug will come of this continued ticking?"
Curiously204 enough, that had not occurred to me before. I had not thought of there being twins of bugs. But now, who knew; there might be even triplets.
I resolved to take precautions, and, if there was to be a second bug, infallibly secure it. During the evening, the ticking was again heard. About ten o'clock I clapped a tumbler over the spot, as near as I could judge of it by my ear. Then we all retired, and locking the door of the cedar-parlor, I put the key in my pocket.
In the morning, nothing was to be seen, but the ticking was heard. The trepidation of my daughters returned. They wanted to call in the neighbors. But to this my wife was vigorously opposed. We should be the laughing-stock of the whole town. So it was agreed that nothing should be disclosed. Biddy received strict charges; and, to make sure, was not allowed that week to go to confession205, lest she should tell the priest.
I stayed home all that day; every hour or[43] two bending over the table, both eye and ear. Towards night, I thought the ticking grew more distinct, and seemed divided from my ear by a thinner and thinner partition of the wood. I thought, too, that I perceived a faint heaving up, or bulging206 of the wood, in the place where I had placed the tumbler. To put an end to the suspense, my wife proposed taking a knife and cutting into the wood there; but I had a less impatient plan; namely, that she and I should sit up with the table that night, as, from present symptoms, the bug would probably make its appearance before morning. For myself, I was curious to see the first advent207 of the thing—the first dazzle of the chick as it chipped the shell.
The idea struck my wife not unfavorably. She insisted that both Julia and Anna should be of the party, in order that the evidence of their senses should disabuse208 their minds of all nursery nonsense. For that spirits should tick, and that spirits should take unto themselves the form of bugs, was, to my wife, the most foolish of all foolish imaginations. True, she could not account for the thing; but she had all confidence that it could be, and would yet be,[44] somehow explained, and that to her entire satisfaction. Without knowing it herself, my wife was a female Democritus. For my part, my present feelings were of a mixed sort. In a strange and not unpleasing way, I gently oscillated between Democritus and Cotton Mather. But to my wife and daughters I assumed to be pure Democritus—a jeerer at all tea-table spirits whatever.
So, laying in a good supply of candles and crackers209, all four of us sat up with the table, and at the same time sat round it. For a while my wife and I carried on an animated210 conversation. But my daughters were silent. Then my wife and I would have had a rubber of whist, but my daughters could not be prevailed upon to join. So we played whist with two dummies211 literally212; my wife won the rubber and, fatigued213 with victory, put away the cards.
Half past eleven o'clock. No sign of the bug. The candles began to burn dim. My wife was just in the act of snuffing them, when a sudden, violent, hollow, resounding214, rumbling215, thumping216 was heard.
Julia and Anna sprang to their feet.
"All well!" cried a voice from the street. It[45] was the watchman, first ringing down his club on the pavement, and then following it up with this highly satisfactory verbal announcement.
"All well! Do you hear that, my girls?" said I, gayly.
Indeed it was astonishing how brave as Bruce I felt in company with three women, and two of them half frightened out of their wits.
I rose for my pipe, and took a philosophic217 smoke.
Democritus forever, thought I.
In profound silence, I sat smoking, when lo!—pop! pop! pop!—right under the table, a terrible popping.
This time we all four sprang up, and my pipe was broken.
"Good heavens! what's that?"
"Spirits! spirits!" cried Julia.
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Anna.
"Shame!" said my wife, "it's that new bottled cider, in the cellar, going off. I told Biddy to wire the bottles to-day."
[46]
"One o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking continues. Wife getting sleepy.
"Two o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking intermittent220. Wife fast asleep.
"Three o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking pretty steady. Julia and Anna getting sleepy.
"Four o'clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking regular, but not spirited. Wife, Julia, and Anna, all fast asleep in their chairs.
So far the journal.
—Rap! rap! rap!
A terrific, portentous222 rapping against a door.
Startled from our dreams, we started to our feet.
Rap! rap! rap!
Six o'clock.
She went to throw back the shutters226, but ere it was done, a cry came from Julia. There, half in and half out its crack, there wriggled227 the bug, flashing in the room's general dimness, like a fiery228 opal.
[47]
Had this bug had a tiny sword by its side—a Damascus sword—and a tiny necklace round its neck—a diamond necklace—and a tiny gun in its claw—brass gun—and a tiny manuscript in its mouth—a Chaldee manuscript—Julia and Anna could not have stood more charmed.
In truth, it was a beautiful bug—a Jew jeweler's bug—a bug like a sparkle of a glorious sunset.
Julia and Anna had never dreamed of such a bug. To them, bug had been a word synonymous with hideousness229. But this was a seraphical bug; or rather, all it had of the bug was the B, for it was beautiful as a butterfly.
Julia and Anna gazed and gazed. They were no more alarmed. They were delighted.
"But how got this strange, pretty creature into the table?" cried Julia.
"Spirits can get anywhere," replied Anna.
"Pshaw!" said my wife.
"Do you hear any more ticking?" said I.
They all applied their ears, but heard nothing.
"Well, then, wife and daughters, now that it is all over, this very morning I will go and make inquiries230 about it."
[48]
"Oh, do, papa," cried Julia, "do go and consult Madame Pazzi, the conjuress."
"Better go and consult Professor Johnson, the naturalist231," said my wife.
"Bravo, Mrs. Democritus!" said I. "Professor Johnson is the man."
By good fortune I found the professor in. Informing him briefly232 of the incident, he manifested a cool, collected sort of interest, and gravely accompanied me home. The table was produced, the two openings pointed out, the bug displayed, and the details of the affair set forth; my wife and daughters being present.
"And now, Professor," said I, "what do you think of it?"
Putting on his spectacles, the learned professor looked hard at the table, and gently scraped with his penknife into the holes, but said nothing.
"Is it not an unusual thing, this?" anxiously asked Anna.
"Very unusual, Miss."
At which Julia and Anna exchanged significant glances.
"But is it not wonderful, very wonderful?" demanded Julia.
[49]
"Very wonderful, Miss."
My daughters exchanged still more significant glances, and Julia, emboldened233, again spoke.
"And must you not admit, sir, that it is the work of—of—of sp—?"
"Spirits? No," was the crusty rejoinder.
"My daughters," said I, mildly, "you should remember that this is not Madame Pazzi, the conjuress, you put your questions to, but the eminent234 naturalist, Professor Johnson. And now, Professor," I added, "be pleased to explain. Enlighten our ignorance."
Without repeating all the learned gentleman said—for, indeed, though lucid235, he was a little prosy—let the following summary of his explication suffice.
The incident was not wholly without example. The wood of the table was apple-tree, a sort of tree much fancied by various insects. The bugs had come from eggs laid inside the bark of the living tree in the orchard236. By careful examination of the position of the hole from which the last bug had emerged, in relation to the cortical layers of the slab, and then allowing for the inch and a half along the grain, ere[50] the bug had eaten its way entirely237 out, and then computing238 the whole number of cortical layers in the slab, with a reasonable conjecture239 for the number cut off from the outside, it appeared that the egg must have been laid in the tree some ninety years, more or less, before the tree could have been felled. But between the felling of the tree and the present time, how long might that be? It was a very old-fashioned table. Allow eighty years for the age of the table, which would make one hundred and fifty years that the bug had laid in the egg. Such, at least, was Professor Johnson's computation.
"Now, Julia," said I, "after that scientific statement of the case (though, I confess, I don't exactly understand it) where are your spirits? It is very wonderful as it is, but where are your spirits?"
"Where, indeed?" said my wife.
"Why, now, she did not really associate this purely natural phenomenon with any crude, spiritual hypothesis, did she?" observed the learned professor, with a slight sneer240.
"Say what you will," said Julia, holding up, in the covered tumbler, the glorious, lustrous241, flashing, live opal, "say what you will, if this[51] beauteous creature be not a spirit, it yet teaches a spiritual lesson. For if, after one hundred and fifty years' entombment, a mere insect comes forth at last into light, itself an effulgence242, shall there be no glorified243 resurrection for the spirit of man? Spirits! spirits!" she exclaimed, with rapture244, "I still believe in them with delight, when before I but thought of them with terror."
The mysterious insect did not long enjoy its radiant life; it expired the next day. But my girls have preserved it. Embalmed245 in a silver vinaigrette, it lies on the little apple-tree table in the pier38 of the cedar-parlor.
And whatever lady doubts this story, my daughters will be happy to show her both the bug and the table, and point out to her, in the repaired slab of the latter, the two sealing-wax drops designating the exact place of the two holes made by the two bugs, something in the same way in which are marked the spots where the cannon balls struck Brattle Street church.
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1
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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flasks
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| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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necromantic
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| 降神术的，妖术的 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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12
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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13
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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slated
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| 用石板瓦盖( slate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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waived
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| v.宣布放弃( waive的过去式和过去分词 )；搁置；推迟；放弃（权利、要求等） | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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accrue
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| v.(利息等)增大，增多 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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21
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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24
slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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25
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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26
braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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32
canopied
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| adj. 遮有天篷的 | |
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funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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35
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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moles
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| 防波堤( mole的名词复数 )； 鼹鼠； 痣； 间谍 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 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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41
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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42
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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43
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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49
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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51
chipmunks
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| n.金花鼠( chipmunk的名词复数 ) | |
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52
carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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53
conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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mildewed
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| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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hoofed
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| adj.有蹄的，蹄形状的，装蹄的v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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60
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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63
urns
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| n.壶( urn的名词复数 )；瓮；缸；骨灰瓮 | |
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64
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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66
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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69
intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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70
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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71
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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72
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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73
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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74
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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75
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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76
superstitiously
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| 被邪教所支配 | |
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77
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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78
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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79
domesticating
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| v.驯化( domesticate的现在分词 ) | |
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80
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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81
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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82
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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83
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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84
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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85
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
narration
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| n.讲述，叙述；故事；记叙体 | |
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87
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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88
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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89
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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90
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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91
straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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92
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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93
witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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94
corroborated
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| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
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95
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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96
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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97
remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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98
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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99
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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100
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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101
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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102
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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103
peevishness
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| 脾气不好；爱发牢骚 | |
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104
concocted
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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105
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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106
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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107
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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108
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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109
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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110
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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111
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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112
truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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113
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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114
exasperate
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| v.激怒，使（疾病）加剧，使恶化 | |
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115
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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116
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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117
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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118
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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119
disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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120
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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121
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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122
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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123
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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124
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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125
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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126
rummaging
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
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127
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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128
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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129
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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130
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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131
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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132
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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133
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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134
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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135
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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136
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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137
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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138
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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139
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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140
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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141
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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142
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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143
exemption
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| n.豁免，免税额，免除 | |
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144
jocosely
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| adv.说玩笑地，诙谐地 | |
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145
jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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146
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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147
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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148
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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149
wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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150
chimeras
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| n.（由几种动物的各部分构成的）假想的怪兽( chimera的名词复数 )；不可能实现的想法；幻想；妄想 | |
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151
acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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152
intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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153
intrepidly
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| adv.无畏地，勇猛地 | |
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154
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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155
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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156
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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157
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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158
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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159
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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160
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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161
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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162
bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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163
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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164
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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165
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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166
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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167
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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168
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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169
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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170
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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171
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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172
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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173
exult
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| v.狂喜，欢腾；欢欣鼓舞 | |
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174
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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175
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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176
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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177
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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178
whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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179
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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180
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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181
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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182
nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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183
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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184
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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185
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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186
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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187
coruscation
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| n.闪光，焕发 | |
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188
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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189
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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190
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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191
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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192
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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193
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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194
imputation
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| n.归罪，责难 | |
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195
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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196
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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197
rinsed
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| v.漂洗( rinse的过去式和过去分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
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198
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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199
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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200
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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presentiments
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| n.（对不祥事物的）预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
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toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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disabuse
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| v.解惑；矫正 | |
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crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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dummies
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| n.仿制品( dummy的名词复数 )；橡皮奶头；笨蛋；假传球 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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transcribe
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| v.抄写，誉写；改编(乐曲)；复制，转录 | |
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memoranda
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| n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
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intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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hideousness
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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naturalist
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| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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computing
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| n.计算 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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240
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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241
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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effulgence
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| n.光辉 | |
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243
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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embalmed
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| adj.用防腐药物保存（尸体）的v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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