Skipton is an ancient town, and has an ancient though well-repaired aspect, the houses being built of gray stone, but in no picturesque2 shapes; the streets well paved; the site irregular and rising gradually towards Skipton Castle, which overlooks the town, as an old lordly castle ought to overlook the feudal3 village which it protects. The castle was built shortly after the Conquest by Robert de Romeli, and was afterwards the property and residence of the famous Cliffords. We met an honest man, as we approached the gateway4, who kindly5 encouraged us to apply for admittance, notwithstanding it was Good Friday; telling us how to find the housekeeper7, who would probably show us over the castle. So we passed through the gate, between two embattled towers; and in the castle court we met a flock of young damsels, who had been rambling8 about the precincts. They likewise directed us in our search for the housekeeper, and S——-, being bolder than I in such assaults on feudal castles, led the way down a dark archway, and up an exterior9 stairway, and, knocking at a door, immediately brought the housekeeper to a parley10.
She proved to be a nowise awful personage, but a homely11, neat, kindly, intelligent, and middle-aged12 body. She seemed to be all alone in this great old castle, and at once consented to show us about,—being, no doubt, glad to see any Christian13 visitors. The castle is now the property of Sir R. Tufton; but the present family do not make it their permanent residence, and have only occasionally visited it. Indeed, it could not well be made an eligible14 or comfortable residence, according to modern ideas; the rooms occupying the several stories of large round towers, and looking gloomy and sombre, if not dreary15,—not the less so for what has been done to modernize16 them; for instance, modern paper-hangings, and, in some of the rooms, marble fireplaces. They need a great deal more light and higher ceilings; and I rather imagine that the warm, rich effect of glowing tapestry17 is essential to keep one's spirit cheerful in these ancient rooms. Modern paper-hangings are too superficial and wishy-washy for the purpose. Tapestry, it is true, there is now, completely covering the walls of several of the rooms, but all faded into ghastliness; nor could some of it have been otherwise than ghastly, even in its newness, for it represented persons suffering various kinds of torture, with crowds of monks18 and nuns19 looking on. In another room there was the story of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, and other subjects not to be readily distinguished20 in the twilight21 that was gathering22 in these antique chambers23. We saw, too, some very old portraits of the Cliffords and the Thanets, in black frames, and the pictures themselves sadly faded and neglected. The famous Countess Anne of Pembroke, Dorset, and Montgomery was represented on one of the leaves of a pair of folding doors, and one of her husbands, I believe, on the other leaf. There was the picture of a little idiot lordling, who had choked himself to death; and a portrait of Oliver Cromwell, who battered24 this old castle, together with almost every other English or Welsh castle that I ever saw or heard of. The housekeeper pointed25 out the grove26 of trees where his cannon27 were planted during the siege. There was but little furniture in the rooms; amongst other articles, an antique chair, in which Mary, Queen of Scots, is said to have rested.
The housekeeper next took us into the part of the castle which has never been modernized28 since it was repaired, after the siege of Cromwell. This is a dismal29 series of cellars above ground, with immensely thick walls, letting in but scanty30 light, and dim staircases of stone; and a large hall, with a vast fireplace, where every particle of heat must needs have gone up chimney,—a chill and heart-breaking place enough. Quite in the midst of this part of the castle is the court-yard,—a space of some thirty or forty feet in length and breadth, open to the sky, but shut completely in on every side by the buildings of the castle, and paved over with flat stones. Out of this pavement, however, grows a yew-tree, ascending32 to the tops of the towers, and completely filling, with its branches and foliage33, the whole open space between them. Some small birds—quite a flock of them—were twittering and fluttering among the upper branches. We went upward, through two or three stories of dismal rooms,—among others, through the ancient guard-room,—till we came out on the roof of one of the towers, and had a very fine view of an amphitheatre of ridgy34 hills which shut in and seclude35 the castle and the town. The upper foliage was within our reach, close to the parapet of the tower; so we gathered a few twigs36 as memorials. The housekeeper told us that the yew-tree is supposed to be eight hundred years old, and, comparing it with other yews37 that I have seen, I should judge that it must measure its antiquity38 by centuries, at all events. It still seems to be in its prime.
Along the base of the castle, on the opposite side to the entrance, flows a stream, sending up a pleasant murmur39 from among the trees. The housekeeper said it was not a stream, but only a "wash," whatever that may be; and I conjecture40 that it creates the motive-power of some factory-looking edifices42, which we saw on our first arrival at Skipton.
We now took our leave of the housekeeper, and came homeward to our inn, where I have written the foregoing pages by a bright fire; but I think I write better descriptions after letting the subject lie in my mind a day or two. It is too new to be properly dealt with immediately after coming from the scene.
The castle is not at all crumbly, but in excellent repair, though so venerable. There are rooks cawing about the shapeless patches of their nests, in the tops of the trees. In the castle wall, as well as in the round towers of the gateway, there seem to be little tenements43, perhaps inhabited by the servants and dependants44 of the family. They looked in very good order, with tokens of present domesticity about them. The whole of this old castle, indeed, was as neat as a new, small dwelling45, in spite of an inevitable46 musty odor of antiquity.
April 11th.—This morning we took a carriage and two horses, and set out for
BOLTON PRIORY,
a distance of about six miles. The morning was cool, with breezy clouds, intermingled with sunshine, and, on the whole, as good as are nine tenths of English mornings. J——- sat beside the driver, and S——- and I in the carriage, all closed but one window. As we drove through Skipton, the little town had a livelier aspect than yesterday when it wore its Good Friday's solemnity; but now its market-place was thronged48, principally with butchers, displaying their meat under little movable pent-houses, and their customers. The English people really like to think and talk of butcher's meat, and gaze at it with delight; and they crowd through the avenues of the market-houses and stand enraptured49 round a dead ox.
We passed along by the castle wall, and noticed the escutcheon of the Cliffords or the Thanets carved in stone over the portal, with the motto Desormais, the application of which I do not well see; these ancestral devices usually referring more to the past, than to the future. There is a large old church, just at the extremity50 of the village, and just below the castle, on the slope of the hill. The gray wall of the castle extends along the road a considerable distance, in good repair, with here and there a buttress51, and the semicircular bulge52 of a tower.
The scenery along the road was not particularly striking,—long slopes, descending53 from ridges54; a generally hard outline of country, with not many trees, and those, as yet, destitute55 of foliage. It needs to be softened56 with a good deal of wood. There were stone farm-houses, looking ancient, and able to last till twice as old. Instead of the hedges, so universal in other parts of England, there were stone fences of good height and painful construction, made of small stones, which I suppose have been picked up out of the fields through hundreds of years. They reminded me of old Massachusetts, though very unlike our rude stone walls, which, nevertheless, last longer than anything else we build. Another New England feature was the little brooks57, which here and there flowed across our road, rippling58 over the pebbles59, clear and bright. I fancied, too, an intelligence and keenness in some of the Yorkshire physiognomies, akin31 to those characteristics in my countrymen's faces.
We passed an ancient, many-gabled inn, large, low, and comfortable, bearing the name of the Devonshire House, as does our own hotel, for the Duke of Devonshire is a great proprietor60 in these parts. A mile or so beyond, we came to a gateway, broken through what, I believe, was an old wall of the Priory grounds; and here we alighted, leaving our driver to take the carriage to the inn. Passing through this hole in the wall, we saw the ruins of the Priory at the bottom of the beautiful valley about a quarter of a mile off; and, well as the monks knew how to choose the sites of their establishments, I think they never chose a better site than this,—in the green lap of protecting hills, beside a stream, and with peace and fertility looking down upon it on every side. The view down the valley is very fine, and, for my part, I am glad that some peaceable and comfort-loving people possessed61 these precincts for many hundred years, when nobody else knew how to appreciate peace and comfort.
The old gateway tower, beneath which was formerly62 the arched entrance into the domain63 of the Priory, is now the central part of a hunting-seat of the Duke of Devonshire, and the edifice41 is completed by a wing of recent date on each side. A few hundred yards from this hunting-box are the remains64 of the Priory, consisting of the nave65 of the old church, which is still in good repair, and used as the worshipping-place of the neighborhood (being a perpetual curacy of the parish of Skipton), and the old ruined choir66, roofless, with broken arches, ivy67-grown, but not so rich and rare a ruin as either Melrose, Netley, or Furness. Its situation makes its charm. It stands near the river Wharfe,—a broad and rapid stream, which hurries along between high banks, with a sound which the monks must have found congenial to their slumberous68 moods. It is a good river for trout69, too; and I saw two or three anglers, with their rods and baskets, passing through the ruins towards its shore. It was in this river Wharfe that the boy of Egremont was drowned, at the Strid, a mile or two higher up the stream.
In the first place, we rambled71 round the exterior of the ruins; but, as I have said, they are rather bare and meagre in comparison with other abbeys, and I am not sure that the especial care and neatness with which they are preserved does not lessen72 their effect on the beholder73. Neglect, wildness, crumbling74 walls, the climbing and conquering ivy; masses of stone lying where they fell; trees of old date, growing where the pillars of the aisles75 used to stand,—these are the best points of ruined abbeys. But, everything here is kept with such trimness that it gives you the idea of a petrifaction77. Decay is no longer triumphant78; the Duke of Devonshire has got the better of it. The grounds around the church and the ruins are still used for burial, and there are several flat tombstones and altar tombs, with crosiers engraved79 or carved upon them, which at first I took to be the memorials of bishops80 or abbots, and wondered that the sculpture should still be so distinct. On one, however, I read the date 1850 and the name of a layman81; for the tombstones were all modern, the humid English atmosphere giving them their mossy look of antiquity, and the crosier had been assumed only as a pretty device.
Close beside the ruins there is a large, old stone farm-house, which must have been built on the site of a part of the Priory,—the cells, dormitories, refectory, and other portions pertaining82 to the monks' daily life, I suppose, and built, no doubt, with the sacred stones. I should imagine it would be a haunted house, swarming83 with cowled spectres. We wished to see the interior of the church, and procured84 a guide from this farm-house,—the sexton, probably,—a gray-haired, ruddy, cheery, and intelligent man, of familiar though respectful address. The entrance of the church was undergoing improvement, under the last of the abbots, when the Reformation occurred; and it has ever remained in an unfinished state, till now it is mossy with age, and has a beautiful tuft of wall-flowers growing on a ledge85 over the Gothic arch of the doorway86. The body of the church is of much anterior87 date, though the oaken roof is supposed to have been renewed in Henry VIII's time. This, as I said before, was the nave of the old Abbey church, and has a one-sided and unbalanced aspect, there being only a single aisle76, with its row of sturdy pillars. The pavement is covered with pews of old oak, very homely and unornamental; on the side opposite the aisle there are two or three windows of modern stained glass, somewhat gaudy88 and impertinent; there are likewise some hatchments and escutcheons over the altar and elsewhere. On the whole, it is not an impressive interior; but, at any rate, it had the true musty odor which I never conceived of till I came to England,—the odor of dead men's decay, garnered89 up and shut in, and kept from generation to generation; not disgusting nor sickening, because it is so old, and of the past.
On one side of the altar there was a small square chapel90,—or what had once been a chapel, separated from the chancel by a partition about a man's height, if I remember aright. Our guide led us into it, and observed that some years ago the pavement had been taken up in this spot, for burial purposes; but it was found that it had already been used in that way, and that the corpses91 had been buried upright. Inquiring further, I found that it was the Clapham family, and another that was called Morley, that were so buried; and then it occurred to me that this was the vault92 Wordsworth refers to in one of his poems,—the burial-place of the Claphams and Mauleverers, whose skeletons, for aught I know, were even then standing6 upright under our feet. It is but a narrow place, perhaps a square of ten feet. We saw little or nothing else that was memorable93, unless it were the signature of Queen Adelaide in a visitors' book.
On our way back to Skipton it rained and hailed, but the sun again shone out before we arrived. We took the train for Leeds at half past ten, and arrived there in the afternoon, passing the ruined Abbey of Kirkstall on our way. The ruins looked more interesting than those of Bolton, though not so delightfully94 situated95, and now in the close vicinity of manufactories, and only two or three miles from Leeds. We took a dish of soup, and spent a miserable96 hour in and about the railway station of Leeds; whence we departed at four, and reached
YORK
in an hour or two. We put up at the Black Swan, and before tea went out, on the cool bright edge of evening, to get a glimpse of the cathedral, which impressed me more grandly than when I first saw it, nearly a year ago. Indeed, almost any object gains upon me at the second sight. I have spent the evening in writing up my journal,—an act of real virtue97.
After walking round the cathedral, we went up a narrow and crooked98 street, very old and shabby, but with an antique house projecting as much as a yard over the pavement on one side,—a timber house it seemed to be, plastered over and stained yellow or buff. There was no external door, affording entrance into this edifice; but about midway of its front we came to a low, Gothic, stone archway, passing right through the house; and as it looked much time-worn, and was sculptured with untraceable devices, we went through. There was an exceedingly antique, battered, and shattered pair of oaken leaves, which used doubtless to shut up the passage in former times, and keep it secure; but for the last centuries, probably, there has been free ingress and egress99. Indeed, the portal arch may never have been closed since the Reformation. Within, we found a quadrangle, of which the house upon the street formed one side, the others being composed of ancient houses, with gables in a row, all looking upon the paved quadrangle, through quaint100 windows of various fashion. An elderly, neat, pleasant-looking woman now came in beneath the arch, and as she had a look of being acquainted here, we asked her what the place was; and she told us, that in the old Popish times the prebends of the cathedral used to live here, to keep them from doing mischief101 in the town. The establishment, she said, was now called "The College," and was let in rooms and small tenements to poor people. On consulting the York Guide, I find that her account was pretty correct; the house having been founded in Henry VI.'s time, and called St. William's College, the statue of the patron saint being sculptured over the arch. It was intended for the residence of the parsons and priests of the cathedral, who had formerly caused troubles and scandals by living in the town.
We returned to the front of the cathedral on our way homeward, and an old man stopped us, to inquire if we had ever seen the Fiddler of York. We answered in the negative, and said that we had not time to see him now; but the old gentleman pointed up to the highest pinnacle102 of the southern front, where stood the Fiddler of York, one of those Gothic quaintnesses which blotch104 the grandeur105 and solemnity of this and other cathedrals.
April 12th.—This morning was bleak106 and most ungenial; a chilly107 sunshine, a piercing wind, a prevalence of watery108 cloud,—April weather, without the tenderness that ought to be half revealed in it. This is
EASTER SUNDAY,
and service at the cathedral commenced at half past ten; so we set out betimes and found admittance into the vast nave, and thence into the choir. An attendant ushered109 S——- and J——- to a seat at a distance from me, and then gave me a place in one of the stalls where the monks used to sit or kneel while chanting the services. I think these stalls are now appropriated to the prebends. They are of carved oaken wood, much less elaborate and wonderfully wrought110 than those of Chester Cathedral, where all was done with head and heart, each a separate device, instead of cut, by machinery111 like this. The whole effect of this carved work, however, lining112 the choir with its light tracery and pinnacles113, is very fine. The whole choir, from the roof downward, except the old stones of the outer walls, is of modern renovation114, it being but a few years since this part of the cathedral was destroyed by fire. The arches and pillars and lofty roof, however, have been well restored; and there was a vast east window, full of painted glass, which, if it be modern, is wonderfully chaste115 and Gothic-like. All the other windows have painted glass, which does not flare116 and glare as if newly painted. But the light, whitewashed117 aspect of the general interior of the choir has a cold and dreary effect. There is an enormous organ, all clad in rich oaken carving118, of similar pattern to that of the stalls. It was communion day, and near the high altar, within a screen, I saw the glistening119 of the gold vessels120 wherewith the services were to be performed.
The choir was respectably filled with a pretty numerous congregation, among whom I saw some officers in full dress, with their swords by their sides, and one, old white-bearded warrior121, who sat near me, seemed very devout122 at his religious exercises. In front of me and on the corresponding benches, on the other side of the choir, sat two rows of white-robed choristers, twenty in all, and these, with some women; performed the vocal123 part of the music. It is not good to see musicians, for they are sometimes coarse and vulgar people, and so the auditor124 loses faith in any fine and spiritual tones that they may breathe forth.
The services of Easter Sunday comprehend more than the ordinary quantity of singing and chanting; at all events, nearly an hour and a half were thus employed, with some intermixture of prayers and reading of Scriptures125; and, being almost congealed126 with cold, I thought it would never come to an end. The spirit of my Puritan ancestors was mighty127 within me, and I did not wonder at their being out of patience with all this mummery, which seemed to me worse than papistry because it was a corruption128 of it. At last a canon gave out the text, and preached a sermon about twenty minutes long,—the coldest, driest, most superficial rubbish; for this gorgeous setting of the magnificent cathedral, the elaborate music, and the rich ceremonies seem inevitably129 to take the life out of the sermon, which, to be anything, must be all. The Puritans showed their strength of mind and heart by preferring a sermon an hour and a half long, into which the preacher put his whole soul, and lopping away all these externals, into which religious life had first leafed and flowered, and then petrified130.
After the service, while waiting for my wife in the nave, I was accosted131 by a young gentleman who seemed to be an American, and whom I have certainly seen before, but whose name I could not recollect132. This, he said, was his first visit to York, and he was evidently inclined to join me in viewing the curiosities of the place, but, not knowing his name, I could not introduce him to my wife, and so made a parting salute133.
After dinner, we set forth and took a promenade134 along the wall, and a ramble70 through some of the crooked streets, noting the old, jutting-storied houses, story above story, and the old churches, gnawed135 like a bone by the tooth of Time, till we came suddenly to the Black Swan before we expected it. . . . I rather fancy that I must have observed most of the external peculiarities136 at my former visit, and therefore need not make another record of them in this journal.
In the course of our walk we saw a procession of about fifty charity-school boys, in flat caps, each with bands under his chin, and a green collar to his coat; all looking unjoyous, and as if they had no home nor parents' love. They turned into a gateway, which closed behind them; and as the adjoining edifice seemed to be a public institution,—at least, not private,—we asked what it was, and found it to be a hospital or residence for Old Maiden137 ladies, founded by a gentlewoman of York; I know not whether she herself is of the sisterhood. It must be a very singular institution, and worthy138 of intimate study, if it were possible to make one's way within the portal.
After writing the above, J——- and I went out for another ramble before tea; and, taking a new course, we came to a grated iron fence and gateway, through which we could see the ruins of St. Mary's Abbey. They are very extensive, and situated quite in the midst of the city, and the wall and then a tower of the Abbey seem to border more than one of the streets. Our walk was interesting, as it brought us unexpectedly upon several relics139 of antiquity,—a loop-holed and battlemented gateway; and at various points fragments of the old Gothic stone-work, built in among more recent edifices, which themselves were old; grimness intermixed with quaintness103 and grotesqueness140; old fragments of religious or warlike architecture mingled47 with queer domestic structures,—the general effect sombre, sordid141, and grimy; but yet with a fascination142 that makes us fain to linger about such scenes, and come to them again.
We passed round the cathedral, and saw jackdaws fluttering round the pinnacles, while the bells chimed the quarters, and little children played on the steps under the grand arch of the entrance. It is very stately, very beautiful, this minster; and doubtless would be very satisfactory, could I only know it long and well enough,—so rich as its front is, even with almost all the niches143 empty of their statues; not stern in its effect, which I suppose must be owing to the elaborate detail with which its great surface is wrought all over, like the chasing of a lady's jewel-box, and yet so grand! There is a dwelling-house on one side, gray with antiquity, which has apparently144 grown out of it like an excrescence; and though a good-sized edifice, yet the cathedral is so large that its vastness is not in the least deformed145 by it. If it be a dwelling-house, I suppose it is inhabited by the person who takes care of the cathedral. This morning, while listening to the tedious chanting and lukewarm sermon, I depreciated146 the whole affair, cathedral and all; but now I do more justice, at least to the latter, and am only sorry that its noble echoes must follow at every syllable147, and re-reverberate at the commas and semicolons, such poor discourses148 as the canon's. But, after all, it was the Puritans who made the sermon of such importance in religious worship as we New-Englanders now consider it; and we are absurd in considering this magnificent church and all those embroidered149 ceremonies only in reference to it.
Before going back to the hotel, I went again up the narrow and twisted passage of College Street, to take another glance at St. William's College. I underestimated the projection150 of the front over the street; it is considerably151 more than three feet, and is about eight or nine feet above the pavement. The little statue of St. William is an alto-relievo over the arched entrance, and has an escutcheon of arms on each side, all much defaced. In the interior of the quadrangle, the houses have not gables nor peaked fronts, but have peaked windows on the red-tiled roofs. The doorway, opposite the entrance-arch, is rather stately; and on one side is a large, projecting window, which is said to belong to the room where the printing-press of Charles I. was established in the days of the Parliament.
点击收听单词发音
1 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 gateway | |
n.大门口,出入口,途径,方法 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 housekeeper | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 exterior | |
adj.外部的,外在的;表面的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 parley | |
n.谈判 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 eligible | |
adj.有条件被选中的;(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 modernize | |
vt.使现代化,使适应现代的需要 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 tapestry | |
n.挂毯,丰富多采的画面 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 nuns | |
n.(通常指基督教的)修女, (佛教的)尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 cannon | |
n.大炮,火炮;飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 modernized | |
使现代化,使适应现代需要( modernize的过去式和过去分词 ); 现代化,使用现代方法 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 akin | |
adj.同族的,类似的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 ridgy | |
adj.有脊的;有棱纹的;隆起的;有埂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 seclude | |
vi.使隔离,使孤立,使隐退 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 twigs | |
细枝,嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 yews | |
n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 edifices | |
n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 tenements | |
n.房屋,住户,租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 dependants | |
受赡养者,受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 enraptured | |
v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 buttress | |
n.支撑物;v.支持 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 bulge | |
n.突出,膨胀,激增;vt.突出,膨胀 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 ridges | |
n.脊( ridge的名词复数 );山脊;脊状突起;大气层的)高压脊 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 brooks | |
n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 rippling | |
起涟漪的,潺潺流水般声音的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 pebbles | |
[复数]鹅卵石; 沙砾; 卵石,小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 proprietor | |
n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 nave | |
n.教堂的中部;本堂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 ivy | |
n.常青藤,常春藤 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 slumberous | |
a.昏昏欲睡的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 trout | |
n.鳟鱼;鲑鱼(属) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 ramble | |
v.漫步,漫谈,漫游;n.漫步,闲谈,蔓延 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 rambled | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 lessen | |
vt.减少,减轻;缩小 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 beholder | |
n.观看者,旁观者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 aisles | |
n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 aisle | |
n.(教堂、教室、戏院等里的)过道,通道 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 petrifaction | |
n.石化,化石;吓呆;惊呆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 engraved | |
v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的过去式和过去分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 bishops | |
(基督教某些教派管辖大教区的)主教( bishop的名词复数 ); (国际象棋的)象 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 layman | |
n.俗人,门外汉,凡人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 pertaining | |
与…有关系的,附属…的,为…固有的(to) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 swarming | |
密集( swarm的现在分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 ledge | |
n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 anterior | |
adj.较早的;在前的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 gaudy | |
adj.华而不实的;俗丽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 garnered | |
v.收集并(通常)贮藏(某物),取得,获得( garner的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 corpses | |
n.死尸,尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 vault | |
n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 delightfully | |
大喜,欣然 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 egress | |
n.出去;出口 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 pinnacle | |
n.尖塔,尖顶,山峰;(喻)顶峰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 quaintness | |
n.离奇有趣,古怪的事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 blotch | |
n.大斑点;红斑点;v.使沾上污渍,弄脏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
106 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
107 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
108 watery | |
adj.有水的,水汪汪的;湿的,湿润的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
109 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
110 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
111 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
112 lining | |
n.衬里,衬料 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
113 pinnacles | |
顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 ); 顶点; 尖顶; 小尖塔 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
114 renovation | |
n.革新,整修 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
115 chaste | |
adj.贞洁的;有道德的;善良的;简朴的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
116 flare | |
v.闪耀,闪烁;n.潮红;突发 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
117 whitewashed | |
粉饰,美化,掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
118 carving | |
n.雕刻品,雕花 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
119 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
120 vessels | |
n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
121 warrior | |
n.勇士,武士,斗士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
122 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
123 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
124 auditor | |
n.审计员,旁听着 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
125 scriptures | |
经文,圣典( scripture的名词复数 ); 经典 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
126 congealed | |
v.使凝结,冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 );(指血)凝结 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
127 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
128 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
129 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
130 petrified | |
adj.惊呆的;目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆,使惊呆;变僵硬;使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
131 accosted | |
v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 );跟…搭讪;(乞丐等)上前向…乞讨;(妓女等)勾搭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
132 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
133 salute | |
vi.行礼,致意,问候,放礼炮;vt.向…致意,迎接,赞扬;n.招呼,敬礼,礼炮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
134 promenade | |
n./v.散步 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
135 gnawed | |
咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 ); (长时间) 折磨某人; (使)苦恼; (长时间)危害某事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
136 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
137 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
138 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
139 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
140 grotesqueness | |
参考例句: |
|
|
141 sordid | |
adj.肮脏的,不干净的,卑鄙的,暗淡的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
142 fascination | |
n.令人着迷的事物,魅力,迷恋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
143 niches | |
壁龛( niche的名词复数 ); 合适的位置[工作等]; (产品的)商机; 生态位(一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
144 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
145 deformed | |
adj.畸形的;变形的;丑的,破相了的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
146 depreciated | |
v.贬值,跌价,减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 );贬低,蔑视,轻视 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
147 syllable | |
n.音节;vt.分音节 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
148 discourses | |
论文( discourse的名词复数 ); 演说; 讲道; 话语 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
149 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
150 projection | |
n.发射,计划,突出部分 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
151 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |