It lies not far from Temple-Bar.
Going to it, by the usual way, is like stealing from the heated plain into some cool, deep glen, shady among the harboring hills.
Sick with the din1 and soiled with the mud of Fleet Street—where the Benedick tradesmen are hurrying by, with ledger-lines ruled along their brows; thinking upon rise of bread and fall of babies—you adroitly2 turn a mystic corner—not a street—glide down a dim, monastic way, flanked by dark, sedate3, and solemn piles, and still wending on, give the whole careworn4 world the slip, and, disentangled, stand beneath the quiet cloisters5 of the Paradise of Bachelors.
Sweet are the oases6 in Sahara; charming the isle-groves of August prairies; delectable8 pure faith amidst a thousand perfidies9: but sweeter, still more charming, more delectable, the[168] dreamy Paradise of Bachelors, found in the stony10 heart of stunning11 London.
In mild meditation12 pace the cloisters; take your pleasure, sip13 your leisure, in the garden waterward; go linger in the ancient library; go worship in the sculptured chapel14; but little have you seen, just nothing do you know, not the kernel15 have you tasted, till you dine among the banded Bachelors, and see their convivial16 eyes and glasses sparkle. Not dine in bustling17 commons, during term-time, in the hall; but tranquilly18, by private hint, at a private table; some fine Templar's hospitality invited guest.
Templar? That's a romantic name. Let me see. Brian de Bois Gilbert was a Templar, I believe. Do we understand you to insinuate21 that those famous Templars still survive in modern London? May the ring of their armed heels be heard, and the rattle22 of their shields, as in mailed prayer the monk-knights kneel before the consecrated23 Host? Surely a monk-knight were a curious sight picking his way along the Strand24, his gleaming corselet and snowy surcoat spattered by an omnibus. Long-bearded, too, according to his order's rule; his face fuzzy as a pard's; how would the grim ghost look[169] among the crop-haired, close-shaven citizens. We know indeed—sad history recounts it—that a moral blight25 tainted26 at last this sacred Brotherhood27. Though no sworded foe28 might outskill them in the fence, yet the work of luxury crawled beneath their guard, gnawing29 the core of knightly30 troth, nibbling31 the monastic vows32, till at last the monk's austerity relaxed to wassailing, and the sworn knights-bachelors grew to be but hypocrites and rakes.
But for all this, quite unprepared were we to learn that Knights-Templars (if at all in being) were so entirely33 secularized as to be reduced from carving34 out immortal35 fame in glorious battling for the Holy Land, to the carving of roast mutton at a dinner-board. Like Anacreon, do these degenerate36 Templars now think it sweeter far to fall in banquet hall than in war? Or, indeed, how can there be any survival of that famous order? Templars in modern London! Templars in their red-cross mantles37 smoking cigars at the Divan38! Templars crowded in a railway train, till, stacked with steel helmet, spear, and shield, the whole train looks like one elongated39 locomotive!
No. The genuine Templar is long since departed.[170] Go view the wondrous40 tombs in the Temple Church; see there the rigidly-haughty forms stretched out, with crossed arms upon their stilly hearts, in everlasting41 undreaming rest. Like the years before the flood, the bold Knights-Templars are no more. Nevertheless, the name remains43, and the nominal44 society, and the ancient grounds, and some of the ancient edifices46. But the iron heel is changed to a boot of patent-leather; the long two-handed sword to a one-handed quill20; the monk-giver of gratuitous47 ghostly counsel now counsels for a fee; the defender48 of the sarcophagus (if in good practice with his weapon) now has more than one case to defend; the vowed49 opener and clearer of all highways leading to the Holy Sepulchre, now has it in particular charge to check, to clog50, to hinder, and embarrass all the courts and avenues of Law; the Knight-combatant of the Saracen, breasting spear-point at Acre, now fights law-points in Westminster Hall. The helmet is a wig52. Struck by Time's enchanter's wand, the Templar is to-day a Lawyer.
But, like many others tumbled from proud glory's height, like the apple, hard on the bough[171] but mellow53 on the ground, the Templar's fall has but made him all the finer fellow.
I dare say those old warrior-priests were but gruff and grouty at the best; cased in Birmingham hardware, how could their crimped arms give yours or mine a hearty54 shake? Their proud, ambitious, monkish55 souls clasped shut, like horn-book missals; their very faces clapped in bomb-shells; what sort of genial56 men were these? But best of comrades, most affable of hosts, capital diner is the modern Templar. His wit and wine are both of sparkling brands.
The church and cloisters, courts and vaults57, lanes and passages, banquet-halls, refectories, libraries, terraces, gardens, broad walks, domicils, and dessert-rooms, covering a very large space of ground, and all grouped in central neighborhood and quite sequestered58 from the old city's surrounding din; and everything about the place being kept in most bachelor-like particularity, no part of London offers a quiet wight so agreeable a refuge.
The Temple is, indeed, a city by itself. A city with all the best appurtenances, as the above enumeration59 shows. A city with a park to it, and flower-beds, and a riverside—the Thames[172] flowing by as openly, in one part, as by Eden's primal60 garden flowed the mild Euphrates. In what is now the Temple Garden the old Crusaders used to exercise their steeds and lances; the modern Templars now lounge on the benches beneath the trees, and switching their patent-leather boots, in gay discourse61 exercise at repartee62.
Long lines of stately portraits in the banquet-halls, show what great men of mark—famous nobles, judges, and Lord Chancellors—have in their time been Templars. But all Templars are not known to universal fame; though, if the having warm hearts and warmer welcomes, full minds and fuller cellars, and giving good advice and glorious dinners, spiced with rare divertisements of fun and fancy, merit immortal mention, set down, ye muses63, the names of R.F.C. and his imperial brother.
Though to be a Templar, in the one true sense, you must needs be a lawyer, or a student at the law, and be ceremoniously enrolled64 as member of the order, yet as many such, though they may have their offices there, just so, on the other hand, there are many residents of the hoary65 old domicils who are not admitted[173] Templars. If being, say, a lounging gentleman and bachelor, or a quiet, unmarried literary man, charmed with the soft seclusion66 of the spot, you much desire to pitch your shady tent among the rest in this serene67 encampment, then you must make some special friend among the order, and procure68 him to rent, in his name but at your charge, whatever vacant chamber69 you may find to suit.
Thus, I suppose, did Dr. Johnson, that nominal Benedick and widower70 but virtual bachelor, when for a space he resided here. So, too, did that undoubted bachelor and rare good soul, Charles Lamb. And hundreds more, of sterling71 spirits, Brethren of the Order of Celibacy72, from time to time have dined, and slept, and tabernacled here. Indeed, the place is all a honeycomb of offices and domicils. Like any cheese, it is quite perforated through and through in all directions with the snug73 cells of bachelors. Dear, delightful74 spot! Ah! when I bethink me of the sweet hours there passed, enjoying such genial hospitalities beneath those time-honored roofs, my heart only finds due utterance75 through poetry; and, with a sigh, I softly sing, "Carry me back to old Virginny!"
[174]
Such then, at large, is the Paradise of Bachelors. And such I found it one pleasant afternoon in the smiling month of May, when, sallying from my hotel in Trafalgar Square, I went to keep my dinner-appointment with that fine Barrister, Bachelor, and Bencher, R.F.C. (he is the first and second, and should be the third; I hereby nominate him), whose card I kept fast pinched between my gloved forefinger76 and thumb, and every now and then snatched still another look at the pleasant address inscribed77 beneath the name, Number —, Elm Court, Templar.
At the core he was a right bluff78, care-free, right comfortable, and most companionable Englishman. If on a first acquaintance he seemed reserved, quite icy in his air—patience; this champagne80 will thaw81. And, if it never do, better frozen champagne than liquid vinegar.
There were nine gentlemen, all bachelors, at the dinner. One was from "Number —, King's Bench Walk, Temple"; a second, third and fourth, and fifth, from various courts or passages christened with some similarly rich resounding82 syllables84. It was indeed a sort of Senate of the Bachelors, sent to this dinner from[175] widely-scattered85 districts, to represent the general celibacy of the Temple. Nay86 it was, by representation, a Grand Parliament of the best Bachelors in universal London; several of those present being from distant quarters of the town, noted87 immemorial seats of lawyers and unmarried men—Lincoln's Inn, Furnival's Inn; and one gentlemen upon whom I looked with a sort of collateral88 awe89, hailed from the spot where Lord Verulam once abode90 a bachelor—Gray's Inn.
The apartment was well up toward heaven; I know not how many strange old stairs I climbed to get to it. But a good dinner, with famous company, should be well earned. No doubt our host had his dining-room so high with a view to secure the prior exercise necessary to the due relishing91 and digesting of it.
The furniture was wonderfully unpretending, old, and snug. No new shining mahogany, sticky with undried varnish92; no uncomfortably luxurious93 ottomans, and sofas too fine to use, vexed94 you in this sedate apartment. It is a thing which every sensible American should learn from every sensible Englishmen, that glare and glitter, gimcracks and gewgaws, are[176] not indispensable to domestic solacement. The American Benedick snatches, down-town, a tough chop in a gilded96 show-box; the English bachelor leisurely97 dines at home on that incomparable South Down of his, off a plain deal board.
The ceiling of the room was low. Who wants to dine under the dome95 of St. Peter's? High ceilings! If that is your demand, and the higher the better, and you be so very tall, then go dine out with the topping giraffe in the open air.
In good time the nine gentlemen sat down to nine covers, and soon were fairly under way.
If I remember right, ox-tail soup inaugurated the affair. Of a rich russet hue98, its agreeable flavor dissipated my first confounding of its main ingredient with teamster's gads99 and the rawhides100 of ushers101. (By way of interlude, we here drank a little claret.) Neptune's was the next tribute rendered—turbot coming second; snow-white, flaky, and just gelatinous enough, not too turtleish in its unctuousness102. (At this point we refreshed ourselves with a glass of sherry.) After these light skirmishers had vanished, the heavy artillery103 of the feast marched in, led by that well-known English[177] generalissimo, roast beef. For aids-de-camp we had a saddle of mutton, a fat turkey, a chicken-pie, and endless other savory104 things; while for avant-couriers came nine silver flagons of humming ale. This heavy ordnance105 having departed on the track of the light skirmishers, a picked brigade of game-fowl encamped upon the board, their camp-fires lit by the ruddiest of decanters.
Tarts106 and puddings followed, with innumerable niceties; then cheese and crackers107. (By way of ceremony, simply, only to keep up good old fashions, we here each drank a glass of good old port.)
The cloth was now removed; and like Blucher's army coming in at the death on the field of Waterloo, in marched a fresh detachment of bottles, dusty with their hurried march.
All these manoeuvrings of the forces were superintended by a surprising old field marshal (I can not school myself to call him by the inglorious name of waiter), with snowy hair and napkin, and a head like Socrates. Amidst all the hilarity108 of the feast, intent on important business, he disdained109 to smile. Venerable man!
I have above endeavored to give some slight[178] schedule of the general plan of operations. But any one knows that a good, general dinner is a sort of pell-mell, indiscriminate affair, quite baffling to detail in all particulars. Thus, I spoke110 of taking a glass of claret, and a glass of sherry, and a glass of port, and a mug of ale—all at certain specific periods and times. But those were merely the state bumpers112, so to speak. Innumerable impromptu113 glasses were drained between the periods of those grand imposing114 ones.
The nine bachelors seemed to have the most tender concern for each other's health. All the time, in flowing wine, they most earnestly expressed their sincerest wishes for the entire well-being115 and lasting42 hygiene116 of the gentlemen on the right and on the left. I noticed that when one of these kind bachelors desired a little more wine (just for his stomach's sake, like Timothy), he would not help himself to it unless some other bachelor would join him. It seemed held something indelicate, selfish and unfraternal to be seen taking a lonely, unparticipated glass. Meantime, as the wine ran apace, the spirits of the company grew more and more to perfect genialness and unconstraint.[179] They related all sorts of pleasant stories. Choice experiences in their private lives were now brought out, like choice brands of Moselle or Rhenish, only kept for particular company. One told us how mellowly117 he lived when a student at Oxford118; with various spicy119 anecdotes120 of most frank-hearted noble lords, his liberal companions. Another bachelor, a gray-headed man, with a sunny face, who, by his own account, embraced every opportunity of leisure to cross over into the Low Countries, on sudden tours of inspection122 of the fine old Flemish architecture there—this learned, white-haired, sunny-faced old bachelor, excelled in his descriptions of the elaborate splendors123 of those old guild-halls, town-halls, and stadhold-houses, to be seen in the land of the ancient Flemings. A third was a great frequenter of the British Museum, and knew all about scores of wonderful antiquities124, of Oriental manuscripts, and costly125 books without a duplicate. A fourth had lately returned from a trip to Old Granada, and, of course, was full of Saracenic scenery. A fifth had a funny case in law to tell. A sixth was erudite in wines. A seventh had a strange characteristic anecdote[180] of the private life of the Iron Duke, never printed, and never before announced in any public or private company. An eighth had lately been amusing his evening, now and then, with translating a comic poem of Pulci's. He quoted for us the more amusing passages.
And so the evening slipped along, the hours told, not by a water-clock, like King Alfred's but a wine-chronometer. Meantime the table seemed a sort of Epsom Heath; a regular ring, where the decanters galloped126 round. For fear one decanter should not with sufficient speed reach his destination, another was sent express after him to hurry him; and then a third to hurry the second; and so on with a fourth and fifth. And throughout all this nothing loud, nothing unmannerly, nothing turbulent. I am quite sure, from the scrupulous127 gravity and austerity of his air, that had Socrates, the field marshal, perceived aught of indecorum in the company he served, he would have forthwith departed without giving warning. I afterward129 learned that during the repast, an invalid130 bachelor in an adjoining chamber enjoyed his first sound refreshing131 slumber132 in three long weary weeks.
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It was the very perfection of quiet absorption of good living, good drinking, good feeling, and good talk. We were a band of brothers. Comfort—fraternal, household comfort, was the grand trait of the affair. Also, you would plainly see that these easy-hearted men had no wives or children to give an anxious thought. Almost all of them were travelers, too; and without any twinges of their consciences touching133 desertion of the fireside.
The thing called pain, the bugbear styled trouble—those two legends seemed preposterous134 to their bachelor imaginations. How could men of liberal sense, ripe scholarship in the world, and capacious philosophical135 and convivial understanding—how could they suffer themselves to be imposed upon by such monkish fables137? Pain! Trouble! As well talk of Catholic miracles. No such thing.—Pass the sherry, Sir.—Pooh, pooh! Can't be!—The port, Sir, if you please. Nonsense; don't tell me so.—The decanter stops with you, Sir, I believe.
And so it went.
Not long after the cloth was drawn138 our host glanced significantly upon Socrates, who, solemnly stepping to a stand, returned with an[182] immense convolved horn, a regular Jericho horn, mounted with polished silver, and otherwise chased and curiously139 enriched; not omitting two lifelike goat's heads, with four more horns of solid silver, projecting from opposite sides of the mouth of the noble main horn.
Not having heard that our host was a performer on the bugle140, I was surprised to see him lift this horn from the table, as if he were about to blow an inspiring blast. But I was relieved from this, and set quite right as touching the purposes of the horn, by his now inserting his thumb and forefinger into its mouth; whereupon a slight aroma141 was stirred up, and my nostrils142 were greeted with the smell of some choice Rappee. It was a mull of snuff. It went the rounds. Capital idea this, thought I, of taking snuff about this juncture143. This goodly fashion must be introduced among my countrymen at home, further ruminated144 I.
The remarkable145 decorum of the nine bachelors—a decorum not to be affected146 by any quantity of wine—a decorum unassailable by any degree of mirthfulness—this was again set in a forcible light to me, by now observing that, though they took snuff very freely, yet[183] not a man so far violated the proprieties147, or so far molested148 the invalid bachelor in the adjoining room as to indulge himself in a sneeze. The snuff was snuffed silently, as if it had been some fine innoxious powder brushed off the wings of butterflies.
But fine though they be, bachelors' dinners, like bachelors' lives, can not endure forever. The time came for breaking up. One by one the bachelors took their hats, and two by two, and arm-in-arm they descended149, still conversing150, to the flagging of the court; some going to their neighboring chambers151 to turn over the Decameron ere retiring for the night; some to smoke a cigar, promenading152 in the garden on the cool riverside; some to make for the street, call a hack153 and be driven snugly154 to their distant lodgings155.
I was the last lingerer.
"Well," said my smiling host, "what do you think of the Temple here, and the sort of life we bachelors make out to live in it?"
"Sir," said I, with a burst of admiring candor—"Sir, this is the very Paradise of Bachelors!"
[184]
The Tarturus of Maids
It lies not far from Woedolor Mountain in New England. Turning to the east, right out from among bright farms and sunny meadows, nodding in early June with odorous grasses, you enter ascendingly among bleak156 hills. These gradually close in upon a dusky pass, which, from the violent Gulf157 Stream of air unceasingly driving between its cloven walls of haggard rock, as well as from the tradition of a crazy spinster's hut having long ago stood somewhere hereabout, is called the Mad Maid's Bellows'-pipe.
Winding158 along at the bottom of the gorge159 is a dangerously narrow wheel-road, occupying the bed of a former torrent160. Following this road to its highest point, you stand as within a Dantean gateway161. From the steepness of the walls here, their strangely ebon hue, and the sudden contraction162 of the gorge, this particular point is called the Black Notch163. The ravine now expandingly descends164 into a great, purple, hopper-shaped hollow, far sunk among many Plutonian,[185] shaggy-wooded mountains. By the country people this hollow is called the Devil's Dungeon165. Sounds of torrents166 fall on all sides upon the ear. These rapid waters unite at last in one turbid167, brick-colored stream, boiling through a flume among enormous boulders168. They call this strange-colored torrent Blood River. Gaining a dark precipice169 it wheels suddenly to the west, and makes one maniac170 spring of sixty feet into the arms of a stunted171 wood of gray-haired pines, between which it thence eddies172 on its further way down to the invisible lowlands.
Conspicuously173 crowning a rocky bluff high to one side, at the cataract174's verge175, is the ruin of an old saw-mill, built in those primitive176 times when vast pines and hemlocks177 superabounded throughout the neighboring region. The black-mossed bulk of those immense, rough-hewn, and spike-knotted logs, here and there tumbled all together, in long abandonment and decay, or left in solitary179, perilous180 projection181 over the cataract's gloomy brink182, impart to this rude wooden ruin not only much of the aspect of one of rough-quarried stone, but also a sort of feudal183, Rhineland, and Thurmberg look, derived[186] from the pinnacled184 wildness of the neighborhood scenery.
Not far from the bottom of the Dungeon stands a large whitewashed186 building, relieved, like some great white sepulchre, against the sullen187 background of mountain-side firs, and other hardy188 evergreens189, inaccessibly190 rising in grim terraces for some two thousand feet.
The building is a paper-mill.
Having embarked191 on a large scale in the seedsman's business (so extensively and broadcast, indeed, that at length my seeds were distributed through all the Eastern and Northern States, and even fell into the far soil of Missouri and the Carolinas), the demand for paper at my place became so great, that the expenditure192 soon amounted to a most important item in the general account. It need hardly be hinted how paper comes into use with seedsmen, as envelopes. These are mostly made of yellowish paper, folded square; and when filled, are all but flat, and being stamped, and superscribed with the nature of the seeds contained, assume not a little the appearance of business letters ready for the mail. Of these small envelopes I used an incredible quantity—several[187] hundred of thousands in a year. For a time I had purchased my paper from the wholesale193 dealers194 in a neighboring town. For economy's sake, and partly for the adventure of the trip, I now resolved to cross the mountains, some sixty miles, and order my future paper at the Devil's Dungeon paper-mill.
The sleighing being uncommonly195 fine toward the end of January, and promising196 to hold so for no small period, in spite of the bitter cold I started one gray Friday noon in my pung, well fitted with buffalo197 and wolf robes; and, spending one night on the road, next noon came in sight of Woedolor Mountain.
The far summit fairly smoked with frost; white vapors198 curled up from its white-wooded top, as from a chimney. The intense congelation made the whole country look like one petrification. The steel shoes of my pung craunched and gritted199 over the vitreous, chippy snow, as if it had been broken glass. The forests here and there skirting the route, feeling the same all-stiffening influence, their inmost fibres penetrated200 with the cold, strangely groaned—not in the swaying branches merely, but likewise in the vertical201 trunk—as the fitful[188] gusts202 remorseless swept through them. Brittle203 with excessive frost, many colossal204 tough-grained maples205, snapped in twain like pipe-stems, cumbered the unfeeling earth.
Flaked206 all over with frozen sweat, white as a milky207 ram208, his nostrils at each breath sending forth128 two horn-shaped shoots of heated respiration209, Black, my good horse, but six years old, started at a sudden turn, where, right across the track—not ten minutes fallen—an old distorted hemlock178 lay, darkly undulatory as an anaconda.
Gaining the Bellows'-pipe, the violent blast, dead from behind, all but shoved my high-backed pung up-hill. The gust7 shrieked211 through the shivered pass, as if laden212 with lost spirits bound to the unhappy world. Ere gaining the summit, Black, my horse, as if exasperated213 by the cutting wind, slung214 out with his strong hind51 legs, tore the light pung straight up-hill, and sweeping215 grazingly through the narrow notch, sped downward madly past the ruined saw-mill. Into the Devil's Dungeon horse and cataract rushed together.
With might and main, quitting my seat and robes, and standing136 backward, with one foot[189] braced121 against the dashboard, I rasped and churned the bit, and stopped him just in time to avoid collision, at a turn, with the bleak nozzle of a rock, couchant like a lion in the way—a road-side rock.
At first I could not discover the paper-mill.
The whole hollow gleamed with the white, except, here and there, where a pinnacle185 of granite216 showed one wind-swept angle bare. The mountains stood pinned in shrouds—a pass of Alpine217 corpses218. Where stands the mill? Suddenly a whirling, humming sound broke upon my ear. I looked, and there, like an arrested avalanche219, lay the large whitewashed factory. It was subordinately surrounded by a cluster of other and smaller buildings, some of which, from their cheap, blank air, great length, gregarious220 windows, and comfortless expression, no doubt were boarding-houses of the operatives. A snow-white hamlet amidst the snows. Various rude, irregular squares and courts resulted from the somewhat picturesque221 clusterings of these buildings, owing to the broken, rocky nature of the ground, which forbade all method in their relative arrangement. Several narrow lanes and alleys222, too, partly[190] blocked with snow fallen from the roof, cut up the hamlet in all directions.
When, turning from the traveled highway, jingling223 with bells of numerous farmers—who, availing themselves of the fine sleighing, were dragging their wood to market—and frequently diversified224 with swift cutters dashing from inn to inn of the scattered villages—when, I say, turning from that bustling main-road, I by degrees wound into the Mad Maid's Bellows'-pipe, and saw the grim Black Notch beyond, then something latent, as well as something obvious in the time and scene, strangely brought back to my mind my first sight of dark and grimy Temple Bar. And when Black, my horse, went darting225 through the Notch, perilously226 grazing its rocky wall, I remembered being in a runaway227 London omnibus, which in much the same sort of style, though by no means at an equal rate, dashed through the ancient arch of Wren228. Though the two objects did by no means correspond, yet this partial inadequacy229 but served to tinge230 the similitude not less with the vividness than the disorder231 of a dream. So that, when upon reining232 up at the protruding233 rock I at last caught sight of the[191] quaint79 groupings of the factory-buildings, and with the traveled highway and the Notch behind, found myself all alone, silently and privily234 stealing through deep-cloven passages into this sequestered spot, and saw the long, high-gabled main factory edifice45, with a rude tower—for hoisting235 heavy boxes—at one end, standing among its crowded outbuildings and boarding-houses, as the Temple Church amidst the surrounding offices and dormitories, and when the marvelous retirement236 of this mysterious mountain nook fastened its whole spell upon me, then, what memory lacked, all tributary237 imagination furnished, and I said to myself, This is the very counterpart of the Paradise of Bachelors, but snowed upon, and frost-painted in a sepulchre.
Dismounting, and warily238 picking my way down the dangerous declivity—horse and man both sliding now and then upon the icy ledges—at length I drove, or the blast drove me, into the largest square, before one side of the main edifice. Piercingly and shrilly239 the shotted blast blew by the corner; and redly and demoniacally boiled Blood River at one side. A long woodpile, of many scores of cords, all glittering in[192] mail of crusted ice, stood crosswise in the square. A row of horse-posts, their north sides plastered with adhesive240 snow, flanked the factory wall. The bleak frost packed and paved the square as with some ringing metal.
The inverted241 similitude recurred—"The sweet, tranquil19 Temple garden, with the Thames bordering its green beds," strangely meditated242 I.
But where are the gay bachelors?
Then, as I and my horse stood shivering in the wind-spray, a girl ran from a neighboring dormitory door, and throwing her thin apron243 over her bare head, made for the opposite building.
"One moment, my girl; is there no shed hereabouts which I may drive into?"
Pausing, she turned upon me a face pale with work, and blue with cold; an eye supernatural with unrelated misery244.
Leading my horse close to the door from which she had come, I knocked. Another pale, blue girl appeared, shivering in the doorway[193] as, to prevent the blast, she jealously held the door ajar.
"Nay, I mistake again. In God's name shut the door. But hold, is there no man about?"
That moment a dark-complexioned well-wrapped personage passed, making for the factory door, and spying him coming, the girl rapidly closed the other one.
"Is there no horse-shed here, Sir?"
"Yonder, the wood-shed," he replied, and disappeared inside the factory.
With much ado I managed to wedge in horse and pung between scattered piles of wood all sawn and split. Then, blanketing my horse, and piling my buffalo on the blanket's top, and tucking in its edges well around the breastband and breeching, so that the wind might not strip him bare, I tied him fast, and ran lamely247 for the factory door, still with frost, and cumbered with my driver's dread248-naught.
Immediately I found myself standing in a spacious249 place, intolerably lighted by long rows of windows, focusing inward the snowy scene without.
At rows of blank-looking counters sat rows of blank-looking girls, white folders250 in their[194] blank hands, all blankly folding blank paper.
In one corner stood some huge frame of ponderous251 iron, with a vertical thing like a piston252 periodically rising and falling upon a heavy wooden block. Before it—its tame minister—stood a tall girl, feeding the iron animal with half-quires of rose-hued note paper, which, at every downward dab253 of the piston-like machine, received in the corner the impress of a wreath of roses. I looked from the rosy254 paper to the pallid255 cheek, but said nothing.
Seated before a long apparatus256, strung with long, slender strings257 like any harp258, another girl was feeding it with foolscap sheets, which, so soon as they curiously traveled from her on the cords, were withdrawn259 at the opposite end of the machine by a second girl. They came to the first girl blank; they went to the second girl ruled.
I looked upon the first girl's brow, and saw it was young and fair; I looked upon the the second girl's brow, and saw it was ruled and wrinkled. Then, as I still looked, the two—for some small variety to the monotony—changed places; and where had stood the young, fair brow, now stood the ruled and wrinkled one.
[195]
Perched high upon a narrow platform, and still higher upon a high stool crowning it, sat another figure serving some other iron animal; while below the platform sat her mate in some sort of reciprocal attendance.
Not a syllable83 was breathed. Nothing was heard but the low, steady overruling hum of the iron animals. The human voice was banished260 from the spot. Machinery261—that vaunted slave of humanity—here stood menially served by human beings, who served mutely and cringingly as the slave serves the Sultan. The girls did not so much seem accessory wheels to the general machinery as mere111 cogs to the wheels.
All this scene around me was instantaneously taken in at one sweeping glance—even before I had proceeded to unwind the heavy fur tippet from around my neck. But as soon as this fell from me the dark-complexioned man, standing close by, raised a sudden cry, and seizing my arm, dragged me out into the open air, and without pausing for a word instantly caught up some congealed263 snow and began rubbing both my cheeks.
[196]
"Two white spots like the whites of your eyes," he said; "man, your cheeks are frozen."
"That may well be," muttered I; "'tis some wonder the frost of the Devil's Dungeon strikes in no deeper. Rub away."
Soon a horrible, tearing pain caught at my reviving cheeks. Two gaunt blood-hounds, one on either side, seemed mumbling264 them. I seemed Actaeon.
Presently, when all was over, I re-entered the factory, made known my business, concluded it satisfactorily, and then begged to be conducted throughout the place to view it.
"Cupid is the boy for that," said the dark-complexioned man. "Cupid!" and by this odd fancy-name calling a dimpled, red-cheeked, spirited-looking, forward little fellow, who was rather impudently265, I thought, gliding266 about among the passive-looking girls—like a gold fish through hueless267 waves—yet doing nothing in particular that I could see, the man bade him lead the stranger through the edifice.
"Come first and see the water-wheel," said this lively lad, with the air of boyishly-brisk importance.
Quitting the folding-room, we crossed some[197] damp, cold boards, and stood beneath a great wet shed, incessantly268 showered with foam269, like the green barnacled bow of some East Indiaman in a gale270. Round and round here went the enormous revolutions of the dark colossal water-wheel, grim with its one immutable271 purpose.
"This sets our whole machinery a-going, Sir; in every part of all these buildings; where the girls work and all."
I looked, and saw that the turbid waters of Blood River had not changed their hue by coming under the use of man.
"You make only blank paper; no printing of any sort, I suppose? All blank paper, don't you?"
"Certainly; what else should a paper-factory make?"
The lad here looked at me as if suspicious of my common-sense.
"Oh, to be sure!" said I, confused and stammering272; "it only struck me as so strange that red waters should turn out pale chee—paper, I mean."
He took me up a wet and rickety stair to a great light room, furnished with no visible[198] thing but rude, manger-like receptacles running all round its sides; and up to these mangers, like so many mares haltered to the rack stood rows of girls. Before each was vertically273 thrust up a long, glittering scythe274, immovably fixed275 at bottom to the manger-edge. The curve of the scythe, and its having no snath to it, made it look exactly like a sword. To and fro, across the sharp edge, the girls forever dragged long strips of rags, washed white, picked from baskets at one side; thus ripping asunder276 every seam, and converting the tatters almost into lint277. The air swam with the fine, poisonous particles, which from all sides darted278, subtilely, as motes279 in sunbeams, into the lungs.
"This is the rag-room," coughed the boy.
"Oh, they are used to it."
"Where do you get such hosts of rags?" picking up a handful from a basket.
"Some from the country round about; some from far over sea—Leghorn and London."
"'Tis not unlikely, then," murmured I, "that among these heaps of rags there may be some[199] old shirts, gathered from the dormitories of the Paradise of Bachelors. But the buttons are all dropped off. Pray, my lad, do you ever find any bachelor's buttons hereabouts?"
"None grow in this part of the country. The Devil's Dungeon is no place for flowers."
"Oh! you mean the flowers so called—the Bachelor's Buttons?"
"And was not that what you asked about? Or did you mean the gold bosom-buttons of our boss, Old Bach, as our whispering girls all call him?"
"The man, then, I saw below is a bachelor, is he?"
"Oh, yes, he's a Bach."
"The edges of those swords, they are turned outward from the girls, if I see right; but their rags and fingers fly so, I can not distinctly see."
"Turned outward."
Yes, murmured I to myself; I see it now; turned outward; and each erected281 sword is so borne, edge-outward, before each girl. If my reading fails me not, just so, of old, condemned282 state-prisoners went from the hall of judgment283 to their doom284; an officer before, bearing a sword, its edge turned outward, in significance[200] of their fatal sentence. So, through consumptive pallors of this blank, raggy life, go these white girls to death.
"Yes; they have to keep them so. Look!"
That moment two of the girls, dropping their rags, plied246 each a whetstone up and down the sword-blade. My unaccustomed blood curdled286 at the sharp shriek210 of the tormented287 steel.
"What makes those girls so sheet-white, my lad?"
"Why"—with a roguish twinkle, pure ignorant drollery290, not knowing heartlessness—"I suppose the handling of such white bits of sheets all the time makes them so sheety."
"Let us leave the rag-room now, my lad."
More tragical291 and more inscrutably mysterious than any mystic sight, human or machine, throughout the factory, was the strange innocence292 of cruel-heartedness in this usage-hardened boy.
"And now," said he, cheerily, "I suppose[201] you want to see our great machine, which cost us twelve thousand dollars only last autumn. That's the machine that makes the paper, too. This way, Sir."
Following him I crossed a large, bespattered place, with two great round vats293 in it, full of a white, wet, woolly-looking stuff, not unlike the albuminous part of an egg, soft-boiled.
"There," said Cupid, tapping the vats carelessly, "these are the first beginning of the paper; this white pulp294 you see. Look how it swims bubbling round and round, moved by the paddle here. From hence it pours from both vats into the one common channel yonder; and so goes, mixed up and leisurely, to the great machine. And now for that."
He led me into a room, stifling with a strange, blood-like, abdominal295 heat, as if here, true enough, were being finally developed the germinous particles lately seen.
Before me, rolled out like some long Eastern manuscript, lay stretched one continuous length of iron framework—multitudinous and mystical, with all sorts of rollers, wheels, and cylinders296, in slowly-measured and unceasing motion.
[202]
"Here first comes the pulp now," said Cupid, pointing to the nighest end of the machine.
"See; first it pours out and spreads itself upon this wide, sloping board; and then—look—slides, thin and quivering, beneath the first roller there. Follow on now, and see it as it slides from under that to the next cylinder297. There; see how it has become just a very little less pulpy298 now. One step more, and it grows still more to some slight consistence. Still another cylinder, and it is so knitted—though as yet mere dragon-fly wing—that it forms an air-bridge here, like a suspended cobweb, between two more separated rollers; and flowing over the last one, and under again, and doubling about there out of sight for a minute among all those mixed cylinders you indistinctly see, it reappears here, looking now at last a little less like pulp and more like paper, but still quite delicate and defective299 yet awhile. But—a little further onward300, Sir, if you please—here now, at this further point, it puts on something of a real look, as if it might turn out to be something you might possibly handle in the end. But it's not yet done, Sir. Good way to travel yet, and plenty more of cylinders must roll it."
[203]
"Bless my soul!" said I, amazed at the elongation, interminable convolutions, and deliberate slowness of the machine. "It must take a long time for the pulp to pass from end to end, and come out paper."
"Oh, not so long," smiled the precocious301 lad, with a superior and patronizing air; "only nine minutes. But look; you may try it for yourself. Have you a bit of paper? Ah! here's a bit on the floor. Now mark that with any word you please, and let me dab it on here, and we'll see how long before it comes out at the other end."
"Well, let me see," said I, taking out my pencil. "Come, I'll mark it with your name."
Bidding me take out my watch, Cupid adroitly dropped the inscribed slip on an exposed part of the incipient302 mass.
Instantly my eye marked the second-hand303 on my dial-plate.
Slowly I followed the slip, inch by inch: sometimes pausing for full half a minute as it disappeared beneath inscrutable groups of the lower cylinders, but only gradually to emerge again; and so, on, and on, and on—inch by inch; now in open sight, sliding along like a freckle304 on the quivering sheet; and then again[204] wholly vanished; and so, on, and on, and on—inch by inch; all the time the main sheet growing more and more to final firmness—when, suddenly, I saw a sort of paper-fall, not wholly unlike a water-fall; a scissory sound smote305 my ear, as of some cord being snapped; and down dropped an unfolded sheet of perfect foolscap, with my "Cupid" half faded out of it, and still moist and warm.
My travels were at an end, for here was the end of the machine.
"Well, how long was it?" said Cupid.
"Nine minutes to a second," replied I, watch in hand.
"I told you so."
For a moment a curious emotion filled me, not wholly unlike that which one might experience at the fulfillment of some mysterious prophecy. But how absurd, thought I again; the thing is a mere machine, the essence of which is unvarying punctuality and precision.
Previously306 absorbed by the wheels and cylinders, my attention was now directed to a sad-looking woman standing by.
"That is rather an elderly person so silently[205] tending the machine-end here. She would not seem wholly used to it either."
"Oh," knowingly whispered Cupid, through the din, "she only came last week. She was a nurse formerly307. But the business is poor in these parts, and she's left it. But look at the paper she is piling there."
"Ay, foolscap," handling the piles of moist, warm sheets, which continually were being delivered into the woman's waiting hands. "Don't you turn out anything but foolscap at this machine?"
"Oh, sometimes, but not often, we turn out finer work—cream-laid and royal sheets, we call them. But foolscap being in chief demand we turn out foolscap most."
It was very curious. Looking at that blank paper continually dropping, dropping, dropping, my mind ran on in wonderings of those strange uses to which those thousand sheets eventually would be put. All sorts of writings would be writ308 on those now vacant things—sermons, lawyers' briefs, physicians' prescriptions309, love-letters, marriage certificates, bills of divorce, registers of births, death-warrants, and so on, without end. Then, recurring310 back[206] to them as they here lay all blank, I could not but bethink me of that celebrated311 comparison of John Locke, who, in demonstration312 of his theory that man had no innate313 ideas, compared the human mind at birth to a sheet of blank paper, something destined314 to be scribbled315 on, but what sort of characters no soul might tell.
Pacing slowly to and fro along the involved machine, still humming with its play, I was struck as well by the inevitability316 as the evolvement-power in all its motions.
"Does that thin cobweb there," said I, pointing to the sheet in its more imperfect stage, "does that never tear or break? It is marvelous fragile, and yet this machine it passes through is so mighty317."
"It never is known to tear a hair's point."
"No. It must go. The machinery makes it go just so; just that very way, and at that very pace you there plainly see it go. The pulp can't help going."
Something of awe now stole over me, as I gazed upon this inflexible319 iron animal. Always, more or less, machinery of this ponderous elaborate sort strikes, in some moods, strange[207] dread into the human heart, as some living, panting Behemoth might. But what made the thing I saw so specially320 terrible to me was the metallic321 necessity, the unbudging fatality322 which governed it. Though, here and there, I could not follow the thin, gauzy vail of pulp in the course of its more mysterious or entirely invisible advance, yet it was indubitable that, at those points where it eluded323 me, it still marched on in unvarying docility324 to the autocratic cunning of the machine. A fascination325 fastened on me. I stood spellbound and wandering in my soul. Before my eyes—there, passing in slow procession along the wheeling cylinders, I seemed to see, glued to the pallid incipience326 of the pulp, the yet more pallid faces of all the pallid girls I had eyed that heavy day. Slowly, mournfully, beseechingly327, yet unresistingly, they gleamed along, their agony dimly outlined on the imperfect paper, like the print of the tormented face on the handkerchief of Saint Veronica.
"Halloa! the heat of this room is too much for you," cried Cupid, staring at me.
"No—I am rather chill, if anything."
"Come out, Sir—out—out," and, with the[208] protecting air of a careful father, the precocious lad hurried me outside.
In a few minutes, feeling revived a little, I went into the folding-room—the first room I had entered, and where the desk for transacting328 business stood, surrounded by the blank counters and blank girls engaged at them.
"Cupid here has led me a strange tour," said I to the dark-complexioned man before mentioned, whom I had ere this discovered not only to be an old bachelor, but also the principal proprietor329. "Yours is a most wonderful factory. Your great machine is a miracle of inscrutable intricacy."
"Yes, all our visitors think it so. But we don't have many. We are in a very out-of-the-way corner here. Few inhabitants, too. Most of our girls come from far-off villages."
"The girls," echoed I, glancing round at their silent forms. "Why is it, Sir, that in most factories, female operatives, of whatever age, are indiscriminately called girls, never women?"
"Oh! as to that—why, I suppose, the fact of their being generally unmarried—that's the reason, I should think. But it never struck me[209] before. For our factory here, we will not have married women; they are apt to be off-and-on too much. We want none but steady workers; twelve hours to the day, day after day, through the three hundred and sixty-five days, excepting Sundays, Thanksgiving, and Fast-days. That's our rule. And so, having no married women, what females we have are rightly enough called girls."
"Then these are all maids," said I, while some pained homage330 to their pale virginity made me involuntarily bow.
"All maids."
Again the strange emotion filled me.
"Your cheeks look whitish yet, Sir," said the man, gazing at me narrowly. "You must be careful going home. Do they pain you at all now? It's a bad sign, if they do."
"No doubt, Sir," answered I, "when once I have got out of the Devil's Dungeon I shall feel them mending."
"Ah, yes; the winter air in valleys, or gorges331, or any sunken place, is far colder and more bitter than elsewhere. You would hardly believe it now, but it is colder here than at the top of Woedolor Mountain."
[210]
"I dare say it is, Sir. But time presses me; I must depart."
With that, remuffling myself in dread-naught and tippet, thrusting my hands into my huge sealskin mittens332, I sallied out into the nipping air, and found poor Black, my horse, all cringing262 and doubled up with the cold.
At the Black Notch I paused, and once more bethought me of Temple-Bar, Then, shooting through the pass, all alone with inscrutable nature, I exclaimed—Oh! Paradise of Bachelors! and oh! Tartarus of Maids!
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1
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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careworn
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| adj.疲倦的，饱经忧患的 | |
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cloisters
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| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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oases
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲( oasis的名词复数 )；（困苦中）令人快慰的地方（或时刻）；乐土；乐事 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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perfidies
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| n.背信弃义，背叛，出卖( perfidy的名词复数 ) | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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kernel
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| n.(果实的)核，仁；(问题)的中心，核心 | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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entirely
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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mantles
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| vt.&vi.覆盖（mantle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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gratuitous
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| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
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defender
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| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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monkish
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| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
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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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vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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enumeration
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| n.计数，列举；细目；详表；点查 | |
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primal
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| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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muses
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的第三人称单数 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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65
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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66
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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67
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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68
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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69
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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70
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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71
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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72
celibacy
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| n.独身(主义) | |
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73
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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74
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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75
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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76
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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77
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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78
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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79
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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80
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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81
thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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82
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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83
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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84
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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85
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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86
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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87
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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88
collateral
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| adj.平行的；旁系的；n.担保品 | |
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89
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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90
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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91
relishing
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| v.欣赏( relish的现在分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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92
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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93
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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94
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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95
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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96
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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97
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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98
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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99
gads
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| v.闲逛( gad的第三人称单数 )；游荡；找乐子；用铁棒刺 | |
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100
rawhides
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| n.生皮，未经加工的皮革( rawhide的名词复数 ) | |
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101
ushers
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| n.引座员( usher的名词复数 )；招待员；门房；助理教员v.引，领，陪同( usher的第三人称单数 ) | |
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102
unctuousness
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| 油性 | |
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103
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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104
savory
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| adj.风味极佳的，可口的，味香的 | |
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105
ordnance
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| n.大炮，军械 | |
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106
tarts
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| n.果馅饼( tart的名词复数 )；轻佻的女人；妓女；小妞 | |
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107
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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108
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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109
disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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110
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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111
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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112
bumpers
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| （汽车上的）保险杠，缓冲器( bumper的名词复数 ) | |
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113
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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114
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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115
well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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116
hygiene
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| n.健康法，卫生学 （a.hygienic） | |
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117
mellowly
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| 柔软且甜地，成熟地 | |
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118
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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119
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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120
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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121
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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122
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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123
splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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124
antiquities
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| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
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125
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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126
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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127
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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128
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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129
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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130
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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131
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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132
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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133
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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134
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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135
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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136
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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137
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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138
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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139
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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140
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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141
aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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142
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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143
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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144
ruminated
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| v.沉思( ruminate的过去式和过去分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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145
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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146
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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147
proprieties
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| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
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148
molested
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| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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149
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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150
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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151
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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152
promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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153
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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154
snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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155
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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156
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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157
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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158
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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159
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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160
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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161
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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162
contraction
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| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
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163
notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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164
descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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165
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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166
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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167
turbid
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| adj.混浊的，泥水的，浓的 | |
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168
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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169
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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170
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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171
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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172
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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173
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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174
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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175
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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176
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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177
hemlocks
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| 由毒芹提取的毒药( hemlock的名词复数 ) | |
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178
hemlock
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| n.毒胡萝卜，铁杉 | |
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179
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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180
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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181
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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182
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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183
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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184
pinnacled
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| 小尖塔般耸立的，顶处的 | |
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185
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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186
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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187
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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188
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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189
evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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190
inaccessibly
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| Inaccessibly | |
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191
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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192
expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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193
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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194
dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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195
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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196
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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197
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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198
vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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199
gritted
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的过去式和过去分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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200
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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201
vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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202
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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203
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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204
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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205
maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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206
flaked
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| 精疲力竭的，失去知觉的，睡去的 | |
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207
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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208
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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209
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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210
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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211
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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212
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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213
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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214
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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215
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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216
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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217
alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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218
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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219
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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220
gregarious
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| adj.群居的，喜好群居的 | |
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221
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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222
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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223
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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224
diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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225
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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226
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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227
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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228
wren
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| n.鹪鹩；英国皇家海军女子服务队成员 | |
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229
inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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230
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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231
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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232
reining
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的现在分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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233
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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234
privily
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| adv.暗中，秘密地 | |
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235
hoisting
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| 起重，提升 | |
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236
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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237
tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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238
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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239
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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240
adhesive
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| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
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241
inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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242
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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243
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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244
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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245
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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246
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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247
lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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248
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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249
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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250
folders
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| n.文件夹( folder的名词复数 )；纸夹；（某些计算机系统中的）文件夹；页面叠 | |
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251
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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252
piston
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| n.活塞 | |
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253
dab
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| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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254
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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255
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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256
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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257
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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258
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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259
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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260
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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261
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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262
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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263
congealed
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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264
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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265
impudently
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266
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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267
hueless
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268
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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269
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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270
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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271
immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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272
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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273
vertically
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| adv.垂直地 | |
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274
scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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275
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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276
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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277
lint
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| n.线头；绷带用麻布，皮棉 | |
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278
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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279
motes
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| n.尘埃( mote的名词复数 )；斑点 | |
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280
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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281
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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282
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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283
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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284
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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285
scythes
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| n.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的名词复数 )v.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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286
curdled
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| v.（使）凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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287
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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288
whetting
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的现在分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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289
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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290
drollery
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| n.开玩笑，说笑话；滑稽可笑的图画（或故事、小戏等） | |
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291
tragical
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| adj. 悲剧的, 悲剧性的 | |
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292
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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293
vats
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| varieties 变化，多样性，种类 | |
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294
pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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295
abdominal
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| adj.腹（部）的，下腹的；n.腹肌 | |
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296
cylinders
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| n.圆筒( cylinder的名词复数 )；圆柱；汽缸；（尤指用作容器的）圆筒状物 | |
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297
cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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298
pulpy
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| 果肉状的，多汁的，柔软的； 烂糊； 稀烂 | |
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299
defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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300
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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301
precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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302
incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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303
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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304
freckle
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| n.雀簧；晒斑 | |
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305
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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306
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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307
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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308
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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309
prescriptions
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| 药( prescription的名词复数 )； 处方； 开处方； 计划 | |
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310
recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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311
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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312
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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313
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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314
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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315
scribbled
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|
| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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316
inevitability
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| n.必然性 | |
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317
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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318
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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319
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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320
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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321
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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322
fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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323
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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324
docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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325
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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326
incipience
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| n.开始，早期 | |
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327
beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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328
transacting
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| v.办理（业务等）( transact的现在分词 )；交易，谈判 | |
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329
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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330
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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331
gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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332
mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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333
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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334
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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