The South was now sadly crippled. Our bulwarks1 were demolished2 and our granaries emptied, our most fertile valleys occupied by the Northern army, and Confederate money was depreciated3 to such an extent as to make it practically useless.[42] Our army was thinning daily, and even the news from Richmond, save from Mr. Davis himself, seemed to carry an undertone prophetic of coming collapse4. “The enemy, yesterday and to-day,” wrote Mr. Mallory, from the capital, late in October, “is, in the graphic5 gorillaisms, ‘pegging away’ close at us; and the flash of his guns is visible and their roar was audible from my piazza6 yesterday. His approaches have been very slow, to be sure, but nevertheless, he has taken no step backward, but is ‘inching’ upon Richmond surely and methodically in a way that seems as gopherlike as it is certain; and he will keep up this system unless we can, by hard fighting, push him back.”
Supported by the hope of Mr. Clay’s return, and knowing he would seek me first among those of our kin7 who were nearest to the coast, I lingered on Beech8 Island until late in January, 1865, though I did so against the advice of Colonel Clay, who urged me to go southward, and the assurances of Mr. Davis that I might safely return to Richmond, 236which city, the President was confident, would continue to prove an impregnable refuge. In the last days of December two such messages, equally positive and each positively9 opposed to the other in its significance, sped to me by courier from the capital. Who was to decide when such correspondents disagreed? Yet the need for some move became more and more urgent. To return to Huntsville was out of the question. Northern Alabama was overrun with Federal soldiers, to whom the name alone of Clay, borne as it was by three men all actively10 labouring for the preservation11 of the Confederate States, was a challenge to the exercise of fresh authority. I heard distressing12 news of the contemplated13 transportation, to Nashville, of the aged14 ex-Governor Clay (our uncle, Mr. McDowell, a non-combatant full of years, had already died in that prison under most pitiful circumstances), yet I was powerless to send him even a line of comfort or encouragement. Mail routes in every direction were in possession of the enemy, or liable to be interrupted by them, and straggling companies of union soldiers were on the lookout15 to intercept16 such messengers as might attempt to bear our letters from point to point.
My husband was in Canada, or on the seas, I knew not where; J. Withers17 Clay, the second son of the ex-Governor, was active with pen and press in lower Alabama; Colonel Clay was stationed in Richmond in the thick of the political battle. Our parents were left alone in the old home, to brave the discomforts18 put upon them by their sometimes cruel and sometimes merely thoughtless oppressors. A grandson, Clement20, a mere19 lad, but a hero in spirit, venturing into the town to succour the old people, was promptly21 arrested. “I wonder,” wrote one who visited our parents, “that their heartstrings have not long since snapped!”
All through the Tennessee Valley dejection was spreading. “If Mr. Davis does not restore General Johnston to 237the army of the Tennessee,” wrote J. Withers Clay, “his friends generally out here believe that he will never recover his lost popularity, or be able to get back the thousands of soldiers (now) absent without leave. I wish you would tell the President this. You have no idea of the extent of demoralisation among soldiers and citizens produced by his persistent22 refusal to restore him!”
For now several months I had been secretly tortured by an indecision as to what course to pursue. Though urged by a hundred generous correspondents to share their homes (for I have ever been blessed by loyal friends), I had a deepening conviction that my interests were detached from all. I was homeless, husbandless, childless, debarred from contributing to the comfort of my husband’s parents, and I chafed23 at my separation from those to whom my presence might have proved useful. As time went on, all deprivations24 and anxieties were obscured by one consuming determination to join my husband at all hazards; but, despite every effort toward accomplishing this, I found myself swept helplessly along by the strong currents of the times. My sole means of communication with Mr. Clay was now through occasional “personals,” which were published in the Richmond Enquirer25, co?perating with the New York Daily News. One of these, which appeared early in November, 1864, indicates the indecision and anxiety which by this time was felt, also, by my husband in his exile:
“To Honourable26 H. L. Clay, Richmond, Virginia. I am well. Have written every week, but received no answer later than the 30th of June. Can I return at once? If not, send my wife to me by flag of truce27, via Washington, but not by sea. Do write by flag of truce care John Potts Brown, No. 93 Beaver28 Street, New York. Answer by personal through Richmond Enquirer and New York News.”
238“I inclose you a ‘personal’ from Brother Clement, published in yesterday’s Enquirer,” Colonel Clay wrote on November 11, 1864. “I consulted Mr. Mallory, Mr. Benjamin and the President, and then sent him the following: ‘Your friends think the sooner you return the better. At the point where you change vessels29 you can ascertain30 whether it is best to proceed direct or by Mexico. Your wife cannot go by flag of truce. She is well. I send you letters to-day by safe hands. H. L. C.’ The reason why the earliest return is advised is that the fleet off Wilmington is not yet increased to the degree intended; and during the rough weather, before the hard winter sets in, it is much easier for vessels to run the blockade. I shall tell him that the statistics kept in the Export and Import Office show five out of six vessels, inward and outward bound, safely run the blockade, but that he must himself consider the risk from what he learns after reaching Bermuda.”
Colonel Clay’s prompt decision, such was my distracted state of mind, by no means satisfied me. The suggestion contained in my husband’s words seemed feasible to my courageous31 mind. I despatched a note of inquiry32 at once to Richmond, begging Mr. Davis to write to Mr. Seward to secure my safe passage by land to Canada. I told him of my unrest, the increasing uncertainty33 that prevailed in the neighbourhood of “Redcliffe,” and my desire to join my husband. The President’s reply was reassuring34 and full of the confidence which sustained him to the end of the remaining days of the Confederacy. “There is no danger in coming here now,” ran his message from the capital, dated December 29, 1864. “When he (Mr. Clay) returns he will, of course, visit this place, and can conveniently meet you here.” But, when I proposed to try to make my way to this haven35, Colonel Clay wrote excitedly, animated36 by an anxiety as great as my own:
239“Don’t come to Richmond! Don’t send the President letters or telegrams. He is in a sea of trouble, and has no time or thought for anything except the safety of the country. I fear the Congress is turning madly against him. It is the old story of the sick lion whom even the jackass can kick without fear. It is a very struggle for life with him. I do not know that he has any reliable friends in Congress, who will sustain him upon principle, fearlessly and ably. He has less and less power to intimidate37 his enemies, and they grow more numerous every day.... If he were pre?minently gifted in all respects, the present moment is perilous38 enough to call forth39 all his energies no matter how great.... Before this reaches you, you will have read my private letter to Hammond, in regard to the military situation in South Carolina and Georgia. I think as soon as Sherman reduces Savannah, he will move promptly up the Savannah River, and endeavour to capture Charleston by taking it in reverse. That success would be a feather in any general’s cap. We cannot hope to make fight on that river, I think, but must take the Edesto as our line of defense40. Now, look upon the map and you will see that the whole of Beech Island lies between the two rivers, and in the event Sherman moves up (as he will do, to cut off supplies from Charleston and Virginia), the South Carolina Railroad will fall within the line of his advance. I only give you my personal opinion; for, of course, no one can speak assuredly of Sherman’s intentions. If I am right, I think you had better move in the direction of Alabama before there is any rush of travel, and as soon as you can well do so.... In Alabama or western Georgia there will be plenty of food; more, indeed, because of the inability to bring it east of Augusta. I write to advise you to go as far away from the line of the enemy’s march as you can ... I dare not look into the future, after Hood’s 240battles in Tennessee, if the Yankee accounts are verified. God knows we are pressed hard on every side by the enemy, and have no wise counsellors to give proper direction to our weak, erring41 efforts for independence. Passion and prejudice and personal feelings govern in many instances where patriotism42 should rule. Congress is discussing questions of the smallest moment while the Confederacy is in the grip of the Yankees struggling for existence.... I fear the pending43 attack upon Wilmington will prevent Brother Clement from coming in at the Port (if he should conclude not to go to Mexico) for some time yet. Until the flotilla set sail from Fortress44 Monroe I looked for him to come in about the last of this month or the first of the next. Now I shall not know when to expect him, for no vessels will attempt the blockade there at Washington.”
It now became apparent that to wait at our exposed Island was no longer prudent45. A family council was called, and it was decided46 that, upon the first sign of a suitable escort, I should make my way to Macon. I had not long to wait. Within a few days we learned of the presence of General Howell Cobb in Augusta. I wrote to him at once, telling him of my contemplated exodus47 and of my desire to place myself under his protection upon his return journey to his headquarters at Macon. He replied with the gallant48 cordiality which was ever a characteristic with him, and which I think would never have deserted49 him even in the midst of the roar of cannon50:
“Augusta, Georgia, January 21, 1865.
“My Dear Friend: ... I assure you that your threat to cling to me like the old man of the sea to Sinbad is the most agreeable threat that ever was made to me, and it shall not be my fault if it is not executed. I am here under orders from Richmond, which leave me in doubt whether I am to remain a day, a month, or a year. My opinion is that I will be ordered back to Macon in a very few days, and there 241is no telling at what hour I may receive the order. To make it certain, however, that I can give you timely notice, you ought to be in Augusta. I am ready to receive the acceptable trust and devote my best efforts to your comfort and happiness.
Very truly your friend,
“Howell Cobb.”
Early in February I arrived in Macon without misadventure, and here, on February 10th, my husband joined me, having learned of my whereabouts from our friends in Augusta.
Mr. Clay’s experiences since leaving Nassau had been exciting. The Rattlesnake, a hitherto skilful51 blockade runner, on which he had taken passage, was bound for Charleston; but, finding an entrance at that port impossible for the moment, she had crept cautiously up to Wilmington, only to be obliged again to show her heels to the wary52 and enlarged blockading fleet. After numerous efforts to find a friendly harbour, the little ship, reconnoitering about the South Carolinian coast, ran aground four miles away from Fort Moultrie, grounded, it was rumoured53, by the pilot. Here the little craft, which quickly became the target of the enemies’ guns, was abandoned, her timbers ablaze54, while passengers and crew, taking to the life-boats, bore with them such baggage as might be gathered in their haste; and now, to cap the climax55 of their disasters, the life-boats, too, ran aground, and sailors and passengers were compelled repeatedly to wade56 through the waves, which dashed throat-high about them, in an effort to rescue the pieces of baggage they had been able to save from the ship. On that cold, blustery day in early February, in garments saturated57 with brine, Mr. Clay was taken in a yawl to Fort Moultrie, whence, ill from the exposure he had undergone, he was carried in a sail-boat to Charleston by the Reverend Mr. Aldrich, an accidental visitor to the Fort. By that kindly58 man he was put to bed and to sleep 242under the stimulus59 of orange-leaf tea, while his clothing and few rescued belongings60 were undergoing a drying.
Upon awakening61, Mr. Clay’s first effort was to forward to Richmond to the care of Colonel Clay, to be held until his own arrival in the capital, a small hand-trunk addressed to Judah P. Benjamin, and to General Lee, his restored pet; his second, to find me. This accomplished62, it was his intention to proceed at once to Richmond, to deliver in person his State papers, the most important of which he had carried in an oil-silk bag suspended about his neck. To the complete frustration63 of his plans, however, my hapless husband found the railway route between Augusta, where he supposed me to be, and Charleston, now effectually closed. It was by a roundabout road, therefore, made partly by carriage, that he reached the desired point on the seventh of February, only to learn of my departure a few days before under the escort of General Cobb. By the 10th, when Mr. Clay arrived at last in Macon, he had informed himself of the grave plight64 of our armies, and of the lamentable65 political differences existing in the capital, to which Colonel Clay, in his letter to me, had alluded66. A few hurried conferences with General Cobb and others, and together we took our departure for Richmond. Everything which might become an impediment to the rough travel that lay before us was dispensed67 with, even my invaluable68 maid, Emily, being left behind at the home of Major Whittle69. We proceeded first to Washington, Georgia, going, upon our arrival, to the home of General Toombs, where was sojourning Mr. Stephens, our Vice-President. The hearts of all were heavy as the gentlemen conferred together upon the outlook of our country and arms. Letters from Richmond which reached our hands at this point were excited in tone, and added to our apprehension70 and sorrow.
243“On every side,” wrote our sister, “the city rings with the cries of Rachels weeping for their children!”
“Don’t come to Richmond!” urged Colonel Clay, “[or] if you think it necessary to come on, do so at once; don’t delay. Leave sister; don’t undertake to bring her in the present uncertain condition of the railroad connections between here and the Georgia line.... Our armies have been dwindling71, until none is large enough to withstand an attack in the open field. There is a collapse in every department, and, worse than all, there is an utter lack of confidence by the people, in the administration, in Congress, and in the success of the cause itself.... Campbell will go out. He cannot see any benefit to be derived72 from his longer continuance in office as the drudge73 of the War Department, especially when the Treasury74 is bankrupt, and Congress cannot devise a new scheme for re?stablishing faith in the currency. That department is $400,000,000 in arrears75, it is said. I know it is enormously in debt to the War Department ($32,000,000), and that the Quartermaster General and the Commissary General cannot obtain the means to pay current expenses. If we cannot have transportation and bread for the soldiers in the field, to say nothing of clothing and pay, ... what becomes of our army?... As I see the present and argue thence what the future has in store for us, ... I see nothing but defeat and disaster and ruin!”
Characterised throughout his life by a punctilious76 observance of everything which in his eyes appeared a duty, Mr. Clay was not to be deterred77 by even such grave news from carrying out his intention to deliver in person, to the President and Mr. Benjamin, an account of his stewardship78 in Canada. Late in February, therefore, he resumed his journey, mounted upon General Toomb’s grey mare79, and accompanied by the General’s man, Wallace. He had not proceeded far, however, when, 244overtaken by an illness, the result of his exposure at Charleston, he was obliged to return to Washington. A month elapsed ere he was able again to set out for Richmond, the city which was so soon to be the theatre of our national collapse.
The roads now, in many places, were impassible. The number of union soldiers was increasing daily in the States which Mr. Clay must cross in his northward80 journey. My husband, with his precious documents, would have been a rich prize to any who might have seized him. Through many vicissitudes81 he made his cautious way toward the capital, securing a horse, when he could, or a mule82 team, or following the railroad tracks where necessary. Much of the journey he made alone, but he sometimes found himself in company, and that not always wholly desirable. On one occasion he fell in with two straggling Confederate soldiers, and, being near the home of a distant kinsman83, Robert Withers, upon the arrival of the trio he asked Mr. Withers’ hospitality for them all. Consent was promptly forthcoming, but my husband’s feelings were somewhat less cordial toward his whilom companions when one was allotted84 to him as a bedfellow. “Had to sleep with ——,” reads his diary, “much to my dread85 of camp-itch!”
Eight days were consumed in that journey to the capital, by this time the scene of an excitement truly anarchistic86. Mr. Clay was probably the last man in the Confederate service to seek to enter Richmond. The trend of Confederate travel just then was in an opposite direction.
Making at once for Colonel Clay’s headquarters, my husband secured the trunk destined87 for Mr. Benjamin, to whom he shortly afterward88 transferred his papers. The transaction was a hurried one, and Mr. Clay pushed on to the apartment of Mr. Davis. In after days I often heard him describe the scene which there met him. He 245found the President engaged in hastily packing a valise, his clothing and papers scattered89 in little heaps about. I think he assisted his hapless friend in these preparations. An hour or two later and Mr. Clay was en route for Danville, on the last of the over-laden trains to draw out from the once dear but now desolated90 city. Of the sad journey of the President through the Carolinas, with his company of legislative91 friends, of which, for a portion of the way, my husband was one, I remember no particulars. I recall a hasty return to Macon, where Mr. Clay joined me, whence we hurried on in a few days to the home of former Senator B. H. Hill, at Lagrange, in western Georgia. The remembrance of the days that immediately succeeded the evacuation of Richmond, followed, as that event was, by the murder of Abraham Lincoln, is a confused one. A kind of horror seized my husband when he realised the truth of the reports that reached us of this tragedy. At first he had refused to credit them. “It’s a canard92!” he said; but when, at last, he could no longer doubt, he exclaimed: “God help us! If that be true, it is the worst blow that yet has been struck at the South!”
点击收听单词发音
1 bulwarks | |
n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 );保障;支柱;舷墙 | |
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2 demolished | |
v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 );推翻;拆毁(尤指大建筑物);吃光 | |
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3 depreciated | |
v.贬值,跌价,减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 );贬低,蔑视,轻视 | |
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4 collapse | |
vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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5 graphic | |
adj.生动的,形象的,绘画的,文字的,图表的 | |
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6 piazza | |
n.广场;走廊 | |
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7 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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8 beech | |
n.山毛榉;adj.山毛榉的 | |
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9 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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10 actively | |
adv.积极地,勤奋地 | |
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11 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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12 distressing | |
a.使人痛苦的 | |
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13 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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14 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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15 lookout | |
n.注意,前途,瞭望台 | |
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16 intercept | |
vt.拦截,截住,截击 | |
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17 withers | |
马肩隆 | |
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18 discomforts | |
n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 );不愉快,苦恼 | |
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19 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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20 clement | |
adj.仁慈的;温和的 | |
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21 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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22 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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23 chafed | |
v.擦热(尤指皮肤)( chafe的过去式 );擦痛;发怒;惹怒 | |
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24 deprivations | |
剥夺( deprivation的名词复数 ); 被夺去; 缺乏; 匮乏 | |
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25 enquirer | |
寻问者,追究者 | |
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26 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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27 truce | |
n.休战,(争执,烦恼等的)缓和;v.以停战结束 | |
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28 beaver | |
n.海狸,河狸 | |
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29 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 | |
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30 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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31 courageous | |
adj.勇敢的,有胆量的 | |
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32 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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33 uncertainty | |
n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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34 reassuring | |
a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的,使人放心的 | |
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35 haven | |
n.安全的地方,避难所,庇护所 | |
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36 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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37 intimidate | |
vt.恐吓,威胁 | |
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38 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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39 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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40 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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41 erring | |
做错事的,错误的 | |
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42 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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43 pending | |
prep.直到,等待…期间;adj.待定的;迫近的 | |
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44 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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45 prudent | |
adj.谨慎的,有远见的,精打细算的 | |
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46 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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47 exodus | |
v.大批离去,成群外出 | |
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48 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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49 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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50 cannon | |
n.大炮,火炮;飞机上的机关炮 | |
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51 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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52 wary | |
adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
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53 rumoured | |
adj.谣传的;传说的;风 | |
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54 ablaze | |
adj.着火的,燃烧的;闪耀的,灯火辉煌的 | |
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55 climax | |
n.顶点;高潮;v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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56 wade | |
v.跋涉,涉水;n.跋涉 | |
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57 saturated | |
a.饱和的,充满的 | |
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58 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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59 stimulus | |
n.刺激,刺激物,促进因素,引起兴奋的事物 | |
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60 belongings | |
n.私人物品,私人财物 | |
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61 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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62 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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63 frustration | |
n.挫折,失败,失效,落空 | |
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64 plight | |
n.困境,境况,誓约,艰难;vt.宣誓,保证,约定 | |
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65 lamentable | |
adj.令人惋惜的,悔恨的 | |
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66 alluded | |
提及,暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67 dispensed | |
v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 );施与;配(药) | |
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68 invaluable | |
adj.无价的,非常宝贵的,极为贵重的 | |
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69 whittle | |
v.削(木头),削减;n.屠刀 | |
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70 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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71 dwindling | |
adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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72 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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73 drudge | |
n.劳碌的人;v.做苦工,操劳 | |
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74 treasury | |
n.宝库;国库,金库;文库 | |
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75 arrears | |
n.到期未付之债,拖欠的款项;待做的工作 | |
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76 punctilious | |
adj.谨慎的,谨小慎微的 | |
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77 deterred | |
v.阻止,制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78 stewardship | |
n. n. 管理工作;管事人的职位及职责 | |
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79 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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80 northward | |
adv.向北;n.北方的地区 | |
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81 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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82 mule | |
n.骡子,杂种,执拗的人 | |
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83 kinsman | |
n.男亲属 | |
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84 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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86 anarchistic | |
无政府主义的 | |
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87 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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88 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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89 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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90 desolated | |
adj.荒凉的,荒废的 | |
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91 legislative | |
n.立法机构,立法权;adj.立法的,有立法权的 | |
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92 canard | |
n.虚报;谣言;v.流传 | |
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