We build our churches almost without regard to cost; we rear an edifice5 which is an adornment6 to the town, and we gild7 it, and fresco8 it, and mortgage it, and do everything we can think of to perfect it, and then spoil it all by putting a bell on it which afflicts9 everybody who hears it, giving some the headache, others St. Vitus’s dance, and the rest the blind staggers.
An American village at ten o’clock on a summer Sunday is the quietest and peacefulest and holiest thing in nature; but it is a pretty different thing half an hour later. Mr. Poe’s poem of the “Bells” stands incomplete to this day; but it is well enough that it is so, for the public reciter or “reader” who goes around trying to imitate the sounds of the various sorts of bells with his voice would find himself “up a stump” when he got to the church-bell—as Joseph Addison would say. The church is always trying to get other people to reform; it might not be a bad idea to reform itself a little, by way of example. It is still clinging to one or two things which were useful once, but which are not useful now, neither are they ornamental10. One is the bell-ringing to remind a clock-caked town that it is church-time, and another is the reading from the pulpit of a tedious list of “notices” which everybody who is interested has already read in the newspaper. The clergyman even reads the hymn12 through—a relic13 of an ancient time when hymn-books are scarce and costly14; but everybody has a hymn-book, now, and so the public reading is no longer necessary. It is not merely unnecessary, it is generally painful; for the average clergyman could not fire into his congregation with a shotgun and hit a worse reader than himself, unless the weapon scattered16 shamefully17. I am not meaning to be flippant and irreverent, I am only meaning to be truthful18. The average clergyman, in all countries and of all denominations19, is a very bad reader. One would think he would at least learn how to read the Lord’s Prayer, by and by, but it is not so. He races through it as if he thought the quicker he got it in, the sooner it would be answered. A person who does not appreciate the exceeding value of pauses, and does not know how to measure their duration judiciously20, cannot render the grand simplicity21 and dignity of a composition like that effectively.
We took a tolerably early breakfast, and tramped off toward Zermatt through the reeking23 lanes of the village, glad to get away from that bell. By and by we had a fine spectacle on our right. It was the wall-like butt24 end of a huge glacier25, which looked down on us from an Alpine26 height which was well up in the blue sky. It was an astonishing amount of ice to be compacted together in one mass. We ciphered upon it and decided27 that it was not less than several hundred feet from the base of the wall of solid ice to the top of it—Harris believed it was really twice that. We judged that if St. Paul’s, St. Peter’s, the Great Pyramid, the Strasburg Cathedral and the Capitol in Washington were clustered against that wall, a man sitting on its upper edge could not hang his hat on the top of any one of them without reaching down three or four hundred feet—a thing which, of course, no man could do.
To me, that mighty28 glacier was very beautiful. I did not imagine that anybody could find fault with it; but I was mistaken. Harris had been snarling29 for several days. He was a rabid Protestant, and he was always saying:
“In the Protestant cantons you never see such poverty and dirt and squalor as you do in this Catholic one; you never see the lanes and alleys30 flowing with foulness31; you never see such wretched little sties of houses; you never see an inverted32 tin turnip33 on top of a church for a dome34; and as for a church-bell, why, you never hear a church-bell at all.”
All this morning he had been finding fault, straight along. First it was with the mud. He said, “It ain’t muddy in a Protestant canton when it rains.” Then it was with the dogs: “They don’t have those lop-eared dogs in a Protestant canton.” Then it was with the roads: “They don’t leave the roads to make themselves in a Protestant canton, the people make them—and they make a road that is a road, too.” Next it was the goats: “You never see a goat shedding tears in a Protestant canton—a goat, there, is one of the cheerfulest objects in nature.” Next it was the chamois: “You never see a Protestant chamois act like one of these—they take a bite or two and go; but these fellows camp with you and stay.” Then it was the guide-boards: “In a Protestant canton you couldn’t get lost if you wanted to, but you never see a guide-board in a Catholic canton.” Next, “You never see any flower-boxes in the windows, here—never anything but now and then a cat—a torpid35 one; but you take a Protestant canton: windows perfectly36 lovely with flowers—and as for cats, there’s just acres of them. These folks in this canton leave a road to make itself, and then fine you three francs if you ‘trot37’ over it—as if a horse could trot over such a sarcasm38 of a road.” Next about the goiter: “They talk about goiter!—I haven’t seen a goiter in this whole canton that I couldn’t put in a hat.”
He had growled39 at everything, but I judged it would puzzle him to find anything the matter with this majestic40 glacier. I intimated as much; but he was ready, and said with surly discontent: “You ought to see them in the Protestant cantons.”
“What is the matter with this one?”
“Matter? Why, it ain’t in any kind of condition. They never take any care of a glacier here. The moraine has been spilling gravel42 around it, and got it all dirty.”
“Why, man, they can’t help that.”
“They? You’re right. That is, they won’t. They could if they wanted to. You never see a speck43 of dirt on a Protestant glacier. Look at the Rhone glacier. It is fifteen miles long, and seven hundred feet thick. If this was a Protestant glacier you wouldn’t see it looking like this, I can tell you.”
“That is nonsense. What would they do with it?”
I did not believe a word of this, but rather than have trouble I let it go; for it is a waste of breath to argue with a bigot. I even doubted if the Rhone glacier was in a Protestant canton; but I did not know, so I could not make anything by contradicting a man who would probably put me down at once with manufactured evidence.
About nine miles from St. Nicholas we crossed a bridge over the raging torrent45 of the Visp, and came to a log strip of flimsy fencing which was pretending to secure people from tumbling over a perpendicular46 wall forty feet high and into the river. Three children were approaching; one of them, a little girl, about eight years old, was running; when pretty close to us she stumbled and fell, and her feet shot under the rail of the fence and for a moment projected over the stream. It gave us a sharp shock, for we thought she was gone, sure, for the ground slanted47 steeply, and to save herself seemed a sheer impossibility; but she managed to scramble48 up, and ran by us laughing.
We went forward and examined the place and saw the long tracks which her feet had made in the dirt when they darted49 over the verge50. If she had finished her trip she would have struck some big rocks in the edge of the water, and then the torrent would have snatched her downstream among the half-covered boulders51 and she would have been pounded to pulp11 in two minutes. We had come exceedingly near witnessing her death.
And now Harris’s contrary nature and inborn52 selfishness were strikingly manifested. He has no spirit of self-denial. He began straight off, and continued for an hour, to express his gratitude53 that the child was not destroyed. I never saw such a man. That was the kind of person he was; just so he was gratified, he never cared anything about anybody else. I had noticed that trait in him, over and over again. Often, of course, it was mere15 heedlessness, mere want of reflection. Doubtless this may have been the case in most instances, but it was not the less hard to bar on that account—and after all, its bottom, its groundwork, was selfishness. There is no avoiding that conclusion. In the instance under consideration, I did think the indecency of running on in that way might occur to him; but no, the child was saved and he was glad, that was sufficient—he cared not a straw for my feelings, or my loss of such a literary plum, snatched from my very mouth at the instant it was ready to drop into it. His selfishness was sufficient to place his own gratification in being spared suffering clear before all concern for me, his friend. Apparently54, he did not once reflect upon the valuable details which would have fallen like a windfall to me: fishing the child out—witnessing the surprise of the family and the stir the thing would have made among the peasants—then a Swiss funeral—then the roadside monument, to be paid for by us and have our names mentioned in it. And we should have gone into Baedeker and been immortal55. I was silent. I was too much hurt to complain. If he could act so, and be so heedless and so frivolous56 at such a time, and actually seem to glory in it, after all I had done for him, I would have cut my hand off before I would let him see that I was wounded.
We were approaching Zermatt; consequently, we were approaching the renowned57 Matterhorn. A month before, this mountain had been only a name to us, but latterly we had been moving through a steadily58 thickening double row of pictures of it, done in oil, water, chromo, wood, steel, copper59, crayon, and photography, and so it had at length become a shape to us—and a very distinct, decided, and familiar one, too. We were expecting to recognize that mountain whenever or wherever we should run across it. We were not deceived. The monarch60 was far away when we first saw him, but there was no such thing as mistaking him. He has the rare peculiarity61 of standing62 by himself; he is peculiarly steep, too, and is also most oddly shaped. He towers into the sky like a colossal63 wedge, with the upper third of its blade bent64 a little to the left. The broad base of this monster wedge is planted upon a grand glacier-paved Alpine platform whose elevation65 is ten thousand feet above sea-level; as the wedge itself is some five thousand feet high, it follows that its apex66 is about fifteen thousand feet above sea-level. So the whole bulk of this stately piece of rock, this sky-cleaving monolith, is above the line of eternal snow. Yet while all its giant neighbors have the look of being built of solid snow, from their waists up, the Matterhorn stands black and naked and forbidding, the year round, or merely powdered or streaked67 with white in places, for its sides are so steep that the snow cannot stay there. Its strange form, its august isolation68, and its majestic unkinship with its own kind, make it—so to speak—the Napoleon of the mountain world. “Grand, gloomy, and peculiar,” is a phrase which fits it as aptly as it fitted the great captain.
Think of a monument a mile high, standing on a pedestal two miles high! This is what the Matterhorn is—a monument. Its office, henceforth, for all time, will be to keep watch and ward22 over the secret resting-place of the young Lord Douglas, who, in 1865, was precipitated69 from the summit over a precipice70 four thousand feet high, and never seen again. No man ever had such a monument as this before; the most imposing71 of the world’s other monuments are but atoms compared to it; and they will perish, and their places will pass from memory, but this will remain.
[The accident which cost Lord Douglas his life (see Chapter xii) also cost the lives of three other men. These three fell four-fifths of a mile, and their bodies were afterward72 found, lying side by side, upon a glacier, whence they were borne to Zermatt and buried in the churchyard.
The remains73 of Lord Douglas have never been found. The secret of his sepulture, like that of Moses, must remain a mystery always.]
A walk from St. Nicholas to Zermatt is a wonderful experience. Nature is built on a stupendous plan in that region. One marches continually between walls that are piled into the skies, with their upper heights broken into a confusion of sublime74 shapes that gleam white and cold against the background of blue; and here and there one sees a big glacier displaying its grandeurs on the top of a precipice, or a graceful76 cascade77 leaping and flashing down the green declivities. There is nothing tame, or cheap, or trivial—it is all magnificent. That short valley is a picture-gallery of a notable kind, for it contains no mediocrities; from end to end the Creator has hung it with His masterpieces.
We made Zermatt at three in the afternoon, nine hours out from St. Nicholas. Distance, by guide-book, twelve miles; by pedometer seventy-two. We were in the heart and home of the mountain-climbers, now, as all visible things testified. The snow-peaks did not hold themselves aloof78, in aristocratic reserve; they nestled close around, in a friendly, sociable79 way; guides, with the ropes and axes and other implements80 of their fearful calling slung81 about their persons, roosted in a long line upon a stone wall in front of the hotel, and waited for customers; sun-burnt climbers, in mountaineering costume, and followed by their guides and porters, arrived from time to time, from breakneck expeditions among the peaks and glaciers82 of the High Alps; male and female tourists, on mules83, filed by, in a continuous procession, hotelward-bound from wild adventures which would grow in grandeur75 every time they were described at the English or American fireside, and at last outgrow84 the possible itself.
We were not dreaming; this was not a make-believe home of the Alp-climber, created by our heated imaginations; no, for here was Mr. Girdlestone himself, the famous Englishman who hunts his way to the most formidable Alpine summits without a guide. I was not equal to imagining a Girdlestone; it was all I could do to even realize him, while looking straight at him at short range. I would rather face whole Hyde Parks of artillery85 than the ghastly forms of death which he has faced among the peaks and precipices86 of the mountains. There is probably no pleasure equal to the pleasure of climbing a dangerous Alp; but it is a pleasure which is confined strictly87 to people who can find pleasure in it. I have not jumped to this conclusion; I have traveled to it per gravel-train, so to speak. I have thought the thing all out, and am quite sure I am right. A born climber’s appetite for climbing is hard to satisfy; when it comes upon him he is like a starving man with a feast before him; he may have other business on hand, but it must wait. Mr. Girdlestone had had his usual summer holiday in the Alps, and had spent it in his usual way, hunting for unique chances to break his neck; his vacation was over, and his luggage packed for England, but all of a sudden a hunger had come upon him to climb the tremendous Weisshorn once more, for he had heard of a new and utterly88 impossible route up it. His baggage was unpacked89 at once, and now he and a friend, laden90 with knapsacks, ice-axes, coils of rope, and canteens of milk, were just setting out. They would spend the night high up among the snows, somewhere, and get up at two in the morning and finish the enterprise. I had a strong desire to go with them, but forced it down—a feat91 which Mr. Girdlestone, with all his fortitude92, could not do.
Even ladies catch the climbing mania93, and are unable to throw it off. A famous climber, of that sex, had attempted the Weisshorn a few days before our arrival, and she and her guides had lost their way in a snow-storm high up among the peaks and glaciers and been forced to wander around a good while before they could find a way down. When this lady reached the bottom, she had been on her feet twenty-three hours!
Our guides, hired on the Gemmi, were already at Zermatt when we reached there. So there was nothing to interfere94 with our getting up an adventure whenever we should choose the time and the object. I resolved to devote my first evening in Zermatt to studying up the subject of Alpine climbing, by way of preparation.
I read several books, and here are some of the things I found out. One’s shoes must be strong and heavy, and have pointed95 hobnails in them. The alpenstock must be of the best wood, for if it should break, loss of life might be the result. One should carry an ax, to cut steps in the ice with, on the great heights. There must be a ladder, for there are steep bits of rock which can be surmounted96 with this instrument—or this utensil—but could not be surmounted without it; such an obstruction97 has compelled the tourist to waste hours hunting another route, when a ladder would have saved him all trouble. One must have from one hundred and fifty to five hundred feet of strong rope, to be used in lowering the party down steep declivities which are too steep and smooth to be traversed in any other way. One must have a steel hook, on another rope—a very useful thing; for when one is ascending98 and comes to a low bluff99 which is yet too high for the ladder, he swings this rope aloft like a lasso, the hook catches at the top of the bluff, and then the tourist climbs the rope, hand over hand—being always particular to try and forget that if the hook gives way he will never stop falling till he arrives in some part of Switzerland where they are not expecting him. Another important thing—there must be a rope to tie the whole party together with, so that if one falls from a mountain or down a bottomless chasm100 in a glacier, the others may brace101 back on the rope and save him. One must have a silk veil, to protect his face from snow, sleet102, hail and gale103, and colored goggles104 to protect his eyes from that dangerous enemy, snow-blindness. Finally, there must be some porters, to carry provisions, wine and scientific instruments, and also blanket bags for the party to sleep in.
I closed my readings with a fearful adventure which Mr. Whymper once had on the Matterhorn when he was prowling around alone, five thousand feet above the town of Breil. He was edging his way gingerly around the corner of a precipice where the upper edge of a sharp declivity105 of ice-glazed snow joined it. This declivity swept down a couple of hundred feet, into a gully which curved around and ended at a precipice eight hundred feet high, overlooking a glacier. His foot slipped, and he fell.
He says:
“My knapsack brought my head down first, and I pitched into some rocks about a dozen feet below; they caught something, and tumbled me off the edge, head over heels, into the gully; the baton106 was dashed from my hands, and I whirled downward in a series of bounds, each longer than the last; now over ice, now into rocks, striking my head four or five times, each time with increased force. The last bound sent me spinning through the air in a leap of fifty or sixty feet, from one side of the gully to the other, and I struck the rocks, luckily, with the whole of my left side. They caught my clothes for a moment, and I fell back on to the snow with motion arrested. My head fortunately came the right side up, and a few frantic107 catches brought me to a halt, in the neck of the gully and on the verge of the precipice. Baton, hat, and veil skimmed by and disappeared, and the crash of the rocks—which I had started—as they fell on to the glacier, told how narrow had been the escape from utter destruction. As it was, I fell nearly two hundred feet in seven or eight bounds. Ten feet more would have taken me in one gigantic leap of eight hundred feet on to the glacier below.
“The situation was sufficiently108 serious. The rocks could not be let go for a moment, and the blood was spurting109 out of more than twenty cuts. The most serious ones were in the head, and I vainly tried to close them with one hand, while holding on with the other. It was useless; the blood gushed110 out in blinding jets at each pulsation111. At last, in a moment of inspiration, I kicked out a big lump of snow and struck it as plaster on my head. The idea was a happy one, and the flow of blood diminished. Then, scrambling112 up, I got, not a moment too soon, to a place of safety, and fainted away. The sun was setting when consciousness returned, and it was pitch-dark before the Great Staircase was descended113; but by a combination of luck and care, the whole four thousand seven hundred feet of descent to Breil was accomplished114 without a slip, or once missing the way.”
His wounds kept him abed some days. Then he got up and climbed that mountain again. That is the way with a true Alp-climber; the more fun he has, the more he wants.
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1
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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medley
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| n.混合 | |
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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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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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adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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gild
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| vt.给…镀金，把…漆成金色，使呈金色 | |
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fresco
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| n.壁画；vt.作壁画于 | |
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afflicts
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的名词复数 ) | |
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ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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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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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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denominations
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| n.宗派( denomination的名词复数 )；教派；面额；名称 | |
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judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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butt
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glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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foulness
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| n. 纠缠, 卑鄙 | |
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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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turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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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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inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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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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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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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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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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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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glaciers
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| 冰河，冰川( glacier的名词复数 ) | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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outgrow
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| vt.长大得使…不再适用；成长得不再要 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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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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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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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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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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102
sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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103
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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104
goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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105
declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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106
baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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108
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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109
spurting
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的现在分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺； 溅射 | |
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110
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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111
pulsation
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| n.脉搏，悸动，脉动；搏动性 | |
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112
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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113
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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114
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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