steep.
The sun burns fierce in the valleys, and the snow-fed streams run
deep;
. . . . . . . . . .
"The Amir's Message," SIR A. LYALL.
All along the north and north-west frontiers of India lie the Himalayas, the greatest disturbance2 of the earth's surface that the convulsions of chaotic3 periods have produced. Nearly four hundred miles in breadth and more than sixteen hundred in length, this mountainous region divides the great plains of the south from those of Central Asia, and parts as a channel separates opposing shores, the Eastern Empire of Great Britain from that of Russia. The western end of this tumult4 of ground is formed by the peaks of the Hindu Kush, to the south of which is the scene of the story these pages contain. The Himalayas are not a line, but a great country of mountains. By one who stands on some lofty pass or commanding point in Dir, Swat or Bajaur, range after range is seen as the long surges of an Atlantic swell6, and in the distance some glittering snow peak suggests a white-crested roller, higher than the rest. The drenching7 rains which fall each year have washed the soil from the sides of the hills until they have become strangely grooved8 by numberless water-courses, and the black primeval rock is everywhere exposed. The silt9 and sediment10 have filled the valleys which lie between, and made their surface sandy, level and broad. Again the rain has cut wide, deep and constantly-changing channels through this soft deposit; great gutters11, which are sometimes seventy feet deep and two or three hundred yards across. These are the nullahs. Usually the smaller ones are dry, and the larger occupied only by streams; but in the season of the rains, abundant water pours down all, and in a few hours the brook12 has become an impassable torrent13, and the river swelled14 into a rolling flood which caves the banks round which it swirls15, and cuts the channel deeper year by year.
From the level plain of the valleys the hills rise abruptly16. Their steep and rugged17 slopes are thickly strewn with great rocks, and covered with coarse, rank grass. Scattered18 pines grow on the higher ridges19. In the water-courses the chenar, the beautiful eastern variety of the plane tree of the London squares and Paris boulevards, is occasionally found, and when found, is, for its pleasant shade, regarded with grateful respect. Reaching far up the sides of the hills are tiers of narrow terraces, chiefly the work of long-forgotten peoples, which catch the soil that the rain brings down, and support crops of barley21 and maize22. The rice fields along both banks of the stream display a broad, winding23 strip of vivid green, which gives the eye its only relief from the sombre colours of the mountains.
In the spring, indeed, the valleys are brightened by many flowers—wild tulips, peonies, crocuses and several kinds of polyanthus; and among the fruits the water melon, some small grapes and mulberries are excellent, although in their production, nature is unaided by culture. But during the campaign, which these pages describe, the hot sun of the summer had burnt up all the flowers, and only a few splendid butterflies, whose wings of blue and green change colour in the light, like shot silk, contrasted with the sternness of the landscape.
The valleys are nevertheless by no means barren. The soil is fertile, the rains plentiful24, and a considerable proportion of ground is occupied by cultivation25, and amply supplies the wants of the inhabitants.
The streams are full of fish, both trout26 and mahseer. By the banks teal, widgeon and wild duck, and in some places, snipe, are plentiful. Chikor, a variety of partridge, and several sorts of pheasants, are to be obtained on the hills.
Among the wild animals of the region the hunter may pursue the black or brown mountain bear, an occasional leopard27, markhor, and several varieties of wild goat, sheep and antelope28. The smaller quadrupeds include hares and red foxes, not unlike the British breed, only with much brighter coats, and several kinds of rats, some of which are very curious and rare. Destitute29 of beauty but not without use, the scaly30 ant-eater is frequently seen; but the most common of all the beasts is an odious31 species of large lizard32, nearly three feet long, which resembles a flabby-skinned crocodile and feeds on carrion33. Domestic fowls34, goats, sheep and oxen, with the inevitable35 vulture, and an occasional eagle, complete the fauna36.
Over all is a bright blue sky and powerful sun. Such is the scenery of the theatre of war.
The inhabitants of these wild but wealthy valleys are of many tribes, but of similar character and condition. The abundant crops which a warm sun and copious37 rains raise from a fertile soil, support a numerous population in a state of warlike leisure. Except at the times of sowing and of harvest, a continual state of feud38 and strife39 prevails throughout the land. Tribe wars with tribe. The people of one valley fight with those of the next. To the quarrels of communities are added the combats of individuals. Khan assails40 khan, each supported by his retainers. Every tribesman has a blood feud with his neighbor. Every man's hand is against the other, and all against the stranger.
Nor are these struggles conducted with the weapons which usually belong to the races of such development. To the ferocity of the Zulu are added the craft of the Redskin and the marksmanship of the Boer. The world is presented with that grim spectacle, "the strength of civilisation42 without its mercy." At a thousand yards the traveller falls wounded by the well-aimed bullet of a breech-loading rifle. His assailant, approaching, hacks43 him to death with the ferocity of a South-Sea Islander. The weapons of the nineteenth century are in the hands of the savages45 of the Stone Age.
Every influence, every motive46, that provokes the spirit of murder among men, impels47 these mountaineers to deeds of treachery and violence. The strong aboriginal48 propensity49 to kill, inherit in all human beings, has in these valleys been preserved in unexampled strength and vigour50. That religion, which above all others was founded and propagated by the sword—the tenets and principles of which are instinct with incentives51 to slaughter52 and which in three continents has produced fighting breeds of men—stimulates a wild and merciless fanaticism54. The love of plunder55, always a characteristic of hill tribes, is fostered by the spectacle of opulence56 and luxury which, to their eyes, the cities and plains of the south display. A code of honour not less punctilious57 than that of old Spain, is supported by vendettas58 as implacable as those of Corsica.
In such a state of society, all property is held directly by main force. Every man is a soldier. Either he is the retainer of some khan—the man-at-arms of some feudal59 baron60 as it were—or he is a unit in the armed force of his village—the burgher of mediaeval history. In such surroundings we may without difficulty trace the rise and fall of an ambitious Pathan. At first he toils61 with zeal62 and thrift63 as an agriculturist on that plot of ground which his family have held since they expelled some former owner. He accumulates in secret a sum of money. With this he buys a rifle from some daring thief, who has risked his life to snatch it from a frontier guard-house. He becomes a man to be feared. Then he builds a tower to his house and overawes those around him in the village. Gradually they submit to his authority. He might now rule the village; but he aspires64 still higher. He persuades or compels his neighbors to join him in an attack on the castle of a local khan. The attack succeeds. The khan flies or is killed; the castle captured. The retainers make terms with the conqueror65. The land tenure66 is feudal. In return for their acres they follow their new chief to war. Were he to treat them worse than the other khans treated their servants, they would sell their strong arms elsewhere. He treats them well. Others resort to him. He buys more rifles. He conquers two or three neighboring khans. He has now become a power.
Many, perhaps all, states have been founded in a similar way, and it is by such steps that civilisation painfully stumbles through her earlier stages. But in these valleys the warlike nature of the people and their hatred68 of control, arrest the further progress of development. We have watched a man, able, thrifty69, brave, fighting his way to power, absorbing, amalgamating70, laying the foundations of a more complex and interdependent state of society. He has so far succeeded. But his success is now his ruin. A combination is formed against him. The surrounding chiefs and their adherents71 are assisted by the village populations. The ambitious Pathan, oppressed by numbers, is destroyed. The victors quarrel over the spoil, and the story closes, as it began, in bloodshed and strife.
The conditions of existence, that have been thus indicated, have naturally led to the dwelling-places of these tribes being fortified72. If they are in the valley, they are protected by towers and walls loopholed for musketry. If in the hollows of the hills, they are strong by their natural position. In either case they are guarded by a hardy73 and martial74 people, well armed, brave, and trained by constant war.
This state of continual tumult has produced a habit of mind which recks little of injuries, holds life cheap and embarks75 on war with careless levity76, and the tribesmen of the Afghan border afford the spectacle of a people, who fight without passion, and kill one another without loss of temper. Such a disposition77, combined with an absolute lack of reverence78 for all forms of law and authority, and a complete assurance of equality, is the cause of their frequent quarrels with the British power. A trifle rouses their animosity. They make a sudden attack on some frontier post. They are repulsed79. From their point of view the incident is closed. There has been a fair fight in which they have had the worst fortune. What puzzles them is that "the Sirkar" should regard so small an affair in a serious light. Thus the Mohmands cross the frontier and the action of Shabkadr is fought. They are surprised and aggrieved80 that the Government are not content with the victory, but must needs invade their territories, and impose punishment. Or again, the Mamunds, because a village has been burnt, assail41 the camp of the Second Brigade by night. It is a drawn81 game. They are astounded82 that the troops do not take it in good part.
They, when they fight among themselves, bear little malice83, and the combatants not infrequently make friends over the corpses84 of their comrades or suspend operations for a festival or a horse race. At the end of the contest cordial relations are at once re-established. And yet so full of contradictions is their character, that all this is without prejudice to what has been written of their family vendettas and private blood feuds85. Their system of ethics86, which regards treachery and violence as virtues88 rather than vices89, has produced a code of honour so strange and inconsistent, that it is incomprehensible to a logical mind. I have been told that if a white man could grasp it fully67, and were to understand their mental impulses—if he knew, when it was their honour to stand by him, and when it was their honour to betray him; when they were bound to protect and when to kill him—he might, by judging his times and opportunities, pass safely from one end of the mountains to the other. But a civilised European is as little able to accomplish this, as to appreciate the feelings of those strange creatures, which, when a drop of water is examined under a microscope, are revealed amiably90 gobbling each other up, and being themselves complacently91 devoured92.
I remark with pleasure, as an agreeable trait in the character of the Pathans, the immunity93, dictated94 by a rude spirit of chivalry95, which in their ceaseless brawling96, their women enjoy. Many forts are built at some distance from any pool or spring. When these are besieged97, the women are allowed by the assailants to carry water to the foot of the walls by night. In the morning the defenders98 come out and fetch it—of course under fire—and are enabled to continue their resistance. But passing from the military to the social aspect of their lives, the picture assumes an even darker shade, and is unrelieved by any redeeming99 virtue87. We see them in their squalid, loopholed hovels, amid dirt and ignorance, as degraded a race as any on the fringe of humanity: fierce as the tiger, but less cleanly; as dangerous, not so graceful100. Those simple family virtues, which idealists usually ascribe to primitive101 peoples, are conspicuously102 absent. Their wives and their womenkind generally, have no position but that of animals. They are freely bought and sold, and are not infrequently bartered103 for rifles. Truth is unknown among them. A single typical incident displays the standpoint from which they regard an oath. In any dispute about a field boundary, it is customary for both claimants to walk round the boundary he claims, with a Koran in his hand, swearing that all the time he is walking on his own land. To meet the difficulty of a false oath, while he is walking over his neighbor's land, he puts a little dust from his own field into his shoes. As both sides are acquainted with the trick, the dismal104 farce105 of swearing is usually soon abandoned, in favor of an appeal to force.
All are held in the grip of miserable106 superstition107. The power of the ziarat, or sacred tomb, is wonderful. Sick children are carried on the backs of buffaloes108, sometimes sixty or seventy miles, to be deposited in front of such a shrine109, after which they are carried back—if they survive the journey—in the same way. It is painful even to think of what the wretched child suffers in being thus jolted110 over the cattle tracks. But the tribesmen consider the treatment much more efficacious than any infidel prescription111. To go to a ziarat and put a stick in the ground is sufficient to ensure the fulfillment of a wish. To sit swinging a stone or coloured glass ball, suspended by a string from a tree, and tied there by some fakir, is a sure method of securing a fine male heir. To make a cow give good milk, a little should be plastered on some favorite stone near the tomb of a holy man. These are but a few instances; but they may suffice to reveal a state of mental development at which civilisation hardly knows whether to laugh or weep.
Their superstition exposes them to the rapacity112 and tyranny of a numerous priesthood—"Mullahs," "Sahibzadas," "Akhundzadas," "Fakirs,"—and a host of wandering Talib-ul-ilms, who correspond with the theological students in Turkey, and live free at the expense of the people. More than this, they enjoy a sort of "droit du seigneur," and no man's wife or daughter is safe from them. Of some of their manners and morals it is impossible to write. As Macaulay has said of Wycherley's plays, "they are protected against the critics as a skunk113 is protected against the hunters." They are "safe, because they are too filthy114 to handle, and too noisome115 even to approach."
Yet the life even of these barbarous people is not without moments when the lover of the picturesque116 might sympathise with their hopes and fears. In the cool of the evening, when the sun has sunk behind the mountains of Afghanistan, and the valleys are filled with a delicious twilight117, the elders of the village lead the way to the chenar trees by the water's side, and there, while the men are cleaning their rifles, or smoking their hookas, and the women are making rude ornaments118 from beads119, and cloves120, and nuts, the Mullah drones the evening prayer. Few white men have seen, and returned to tell the tale. But we may imagine the conversation passing from the prices of arms and cattle, the prospects121 of the harvest, or the village gossip, to the great Power, that lies to the southward, and comes nearer year by year. Perhaps some former Sepoy, of Beluchis or Pathans, will recount his adventures in the bazaars122 of Peshawar, or tell of the white officers he has followed and fought for in the past. He will speak of their careless bravery and their strange sports; of the far-reaching power of the Government, that never forgets to send his pension regularly as the months pass by; and he may even predict to the listening circle the day when their valleys will be involved in the comprehensive grasp of that great machine, and judges, collectors and commissioners123 shall ride to sessions at Ambeyla, or value the land tax on the soil of Nawagai. Then the Mullah will raise his voice and remind them of other days when the sons of the prophet drove the infidel from the plains of India, and ruled at Delhi, as wide an Empire as the Kafir holds to-day: when the true religion strode proudly through the earth and scorned to lie hidden and neglected among the hills: when mighty124 princes ruled in Bagdad, and all men knew that there was one God, and Mahomet was His prophet. And the young men hearing these things will grip their Martinis, and pray to Allah, that one day He will bring some Sahib—best prize of all—across their line of sight at seven hundred yards so that, at least, they may strike a blow for insulted and threatened Islam.
The general aspect of the country and character of its inhabitants have thus been briefly125 described. At this stage it is not necessary or desirable to descend126 to detail. As the account proceeds the reader may derive127 a more lively impression of the sombre mountains, and of the peoples who dwell beneath their shadow.
The tale that I have to tell is one of frontier war. Neither the importance of the issues, nor the numbers of the combatants, are on an European scale. The fate of empires does not hang on the result. Yet the narrative128 may not be without interest, or material for reflection. In the quarrels of civilised nations, great armies, many thousands strong, collide. Brigades and battalions129 are hurried forward, and come perhaps within some fire zone, swept by concentrated batteries, or massed musketry. Hundreds or thousands fall killed and wounded. The survivors130 struggle on blindly, dazed and dumfoundered, to the nearest cover. Fresh troops are continuously poured on from behind. At length one side or the other gives way. In all this tumult, this wholesale131 slaughter, the individual and his feelings are utterly132 lost. Only the army has a tale to tell. With events on such a scale, the hopes and fears, the strength and weakness, of man are alike indistinguishable. Amid the din5 and dust little but destruction can be discerned. But on the frontier, in the clear light of morning, when the mountain side is dotted with smoke puffs133, and every ridge20 sparkles with bright sword blades, the spectator may observe and accurately134 appreciate all grades of human courage—the wild fanaticism of the Ghazi, the composed fatalism of the Sikh, the stubbornness of the British soldier, and the jaunty135 daring of his officers. He may remark occasions of devotion and self-sacrifice, of cool cynicism and stern resolve. He may participate in moments of wild enthusiasm, or of savage44 anger and dismay. The skill of the general, the quality of the troops, the eternal principles of the art of war, will be as clearly displayed as on historic fields. Only the scale of the statistics is reduced.
A single glass of champagne136 imparts a feeling of exhilaration. The nerves are braced137, the imagination is agreeably stirred, the wits become more nimble. A bottle produces a contrary effect. Excess causes a comatose138 insensibility. So it is with war, and the quality of both is best discovered by sipping139.
I propose to chronicle the military operations of the Malakand Field Force, to trace their political results, and to give, if possible, some picture of the scenery and people of the Indian Highlands. These pages may serve to record the actions of brave and skilful140 men. They may throw a sidelight on the great drama of frontier war. They may describe an episode in that ceaseless struggle for Empire which seems to be the perpetual inheritance of our race. They may amuse an idle hour. But the ambition I shall associate with them is, that in some measure, however small, they may stimulate53 that growing interest which the Imperial Democracy of England is beginning to take, in their great estates that lie beyond the seas.
点击收听单词发音
1 valiant | |
adj.勇敢的,英勇的;n.勇士,勇敢的人 | |
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2 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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3 chaotic | |
adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
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4 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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5 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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6 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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7 drenching | |
n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 );在某人(某物)上大量使用(某液体) | |
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8 grooved | |
v.沟( groove的过去式和过去分词 );槽;老一套;(某种)音乐节奏 | |
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9 silt | |
n.淤泥,淤沙,粉砂层,泥沙层;vt.使淤塞;vi.被淤塞 | |
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10 sediment | |
n.沉淀,沉渣,沉积(物) | |
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11 gutters | |
(路边)排水沟( gutter的名词复数 ); 阴沟; (屋顶的)天沟; 贫贱的境地 | |
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12 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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13 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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14 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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15 swirls | |
n.旋转( swirl的名词复数 );卷状物;漩涡;尘旋v.旋转,打旋( swirl的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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17 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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18 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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19 ridges | |
n.脊( ridge的名词复数 );山脊;脊状突起;大气层的)高压脊 | |
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20 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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21 barley | |
n.大麦,大麦粒 | |
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22 maize | |
n.玉米 | |
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23 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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24 plentiful | |
adj.富裕的,丰富的 | |
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25 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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26 trout | |
n.鳟鱼;鲑鱼(属) | |
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27 leopard | |
n.豹 | |
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28 antelope | |
n.羚羊;羚羊皮 | |
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29 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
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30 scaly | |
adj.鱼鳞状的;干燥粗糙的 | |
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31 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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32 lizard | |
n.蜥蜴,壁虎 | |
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33 carrion | |
n.腐肉 | |
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34 fowls | |
鸟( fowl的名词复数 ); 禽肉; 既不是这; 非驴非马 | |
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35 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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36 fauna | |
n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物,动物区系 | |
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37 copious | |
adj.丰富的,大量的 | |
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38 feud | |
n.长期不和;世仇;v.长期争斗;世代结仇 | |
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39 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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40 assails | |
v.攻击( assail的第三人称单数 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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41 assail | |
v.猛烈攻击,抨击,痛斥 | |
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42 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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43 hacks | |
黑客 | |
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44 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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45 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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46 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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47 impels | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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48 aboriginal | |
adj.(指动植物)土生的,原产地的,土著的 | |
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49 propensity | |
n.倾向;习性 | |
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50 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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51 incentives | |
激励某人做某事的事物( incentive的名词复数 ); 刺激; 诱因; 动机 | |
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52 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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53 stimulate | |
vt.刺激,使兴奋;激励,使…振奋 | |
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54 fanaticism | |
n.狂热,盲信 | |
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55 plunder | |
vt.劫掠财物,掠夺;n.劫掠物,赃物;劫掠 | |
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56 opulence | |
n.财富,富裕 | |
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57 punctilious | |
adj.谨慎的,谨小慎微的 | |
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58 vendettas | |
n.家族世仇( vendetta的名词复数 );族间仇杀;长期争斗;积怨 | |
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59 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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60 baron | |
n.男爵;(商业界等)巨头,大王 | |
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61 toils | |
网 | |
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62 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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63 thrift | |
adj.节约,节俭;n.节俭,节约 | |
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64 aspires | |
v.渴望,追求( aspire的第三人称单数 ) | |
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65 conqueror | |
n.征服者,胜利者 | |
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66 tenure | |
n.终身职位;任期;(土地)保有权,保有期 | |
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67 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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68 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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69 thrifty | |
adj.节俭的;兴旺的;健壮的 | |
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70 amalgamating | |
v.(使)(金属)汞齐化( amalgamate的现在分词 );(使)合并;联合;结合 | |
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71 adherents | |
n.支持者,拥护者( adherent的名词复数 );党羽;徒子徒孙 | |
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72 fortified | |
adj. 加强的 | |
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73 hardy | |
adj.勇敢的,果断的,吃苦的;耐寒的 | |
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74 martial | |
adj.战争的,军事的,尚武的,威武的 | |
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75 embarks | |
乘船( embark的第三人称单数 ); 装载; 从事 | |
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76 levity | |
n.轻率,轻浮,不稳定,多变 | |
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77 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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78 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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79 repulsed | |
v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 );驳斥;拒绝 | |
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80 aggrieved | |
adj.愤愤不平的,受委屈的;悲痛的;(在合法权利方面)受侵害的v.令委屈,令苦恼,侵害( aggrieve的过去式);令委屈,令苦恼,侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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81 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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82 astounded | |
v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词);愕然;愕;惊讶 | |
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83 malice | |
n.恶意,怨恨,蓄意;[律]预谋 | |
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84 corpses | |
n.死尸,尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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85 feuds | |
n.长期不和,世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
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86 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
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87 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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88 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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89 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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90 amiably | |
adv.和蔼可亲地,亲切地 | |
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91 complacently | |
adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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92 devoured | |
吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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93 immunity | |
n.优惠;免除;豁免,豁免权 | |
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94 dictated | |
v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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95 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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96 brawling | |
n.争吵,喧嚷 | |
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97 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98 defenders | |
n.防御者( defender的名词复数 );守卫者;保护者;辩护者 | |
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99 redeeming | |
补偿的,弥补的 | |
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100 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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101 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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102 conspicuously | |
ad.明显地,惹人注目地 | |
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103 bartered | |
v.作物物交换,以货换货( barter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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105 farce | |
n.闹剧,笑剧,滑稽戏;胡闹 | |
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106 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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107 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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108 buffaloes | |
n.水牛(分非洲水牛和亚洲水牛两种)( buffalo的名词复数 );(南非或北美的)野牛;威胁;恐吓 | |
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109 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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110 jolted | |
(使)摇动, (使)震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111 prescription | |
n.处方,开药;指示,规定 | |
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112 rapacity | |
n.贪婪,贪心,劫掠的欲望 | |
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113 skunk | |
n.臭鼬,黄鼠狼;v.使惨败,使得零分;烂醉如泥 | |
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114 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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115 noisome | |
adj.有害的,可厌的 | |
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116 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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117 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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118 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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119 beads | |
n.(空心)小珠子( bead的名词复数 );水珠;珠子项链 | |
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120 cloves | |
n.丁香(热带树木的干花,形似小钉子,用作调味品,尤用作甜食的香料)( clove的名词复数 );蒜瓣(a garlic ~|a ~of garlic) | |
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121 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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122 bazaars | |
(东方国家的)市场( bazaar的名词复数 ); 义卖; 义卖市场; (出售花哨商品等的)小商品市场 | |
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123 commissioners | |
n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 );长官;委员;政府部门的长官 | |
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124 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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125 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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126 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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127 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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128 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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129 battalions | |
n.(陆军的)一营(大约有一千兵士)( battalion的名词复数 );协同作战的部队;军队;(组织在一起工作的)队伍 | |
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130 survivors | |
幸存者,残存者,生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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131 wholesale | |
n.批发;adv.以批发方式;vt.批发,成批出售 | |
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132 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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133 puffs | |
n.吸( puff的名词复数 );(烟斗或香烟的)一吸;一缕(烟、蒸汽等);(呼吸或风的)呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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134 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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135 jaunty | |
adj.愉快的,满足的;adv.心满意足地,洋洋得意地;n.心满意足;洋洋得意 | |
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136 champagne | |
n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
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137 braced | |
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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138 comatose | |
adj.昏睡的,昏迷不醒的 | |
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139 sipping | |
v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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140 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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