Matthias Alexander Castrén, whose interesting journeys form the subject of the present chapter, was born in the year 1813, at Rowanièmi, a Finland village situated8 about forty miles from the head of the Gulf9 of Bothnia, immediately under the Arctic Circle; so that, of all men who have attained10 celebrity11, probably none can boast of a more northern birthplace. While still a scholar at the Alexander’s College of Helsingfors, he resolved to devote his life to the study of the nations of Finnish origin (Fins12, Laplanders, Samojedes, Ostjaks, etc.); and as books gave but an insufficient13 account of them, each passing year strengthened his desire to visit these tribes in their own haunts, and to learn from themselves their languages, their habits, and their history.
We may imagine, therefore, the joy of the enthusiastic student, whom poverty alone had hitherto prevented from carrying out the schemes of his youth, when Dr. Ehrström, a friend and medical fellow-student, proposed to take him as a companion, free of expense, on a tour in Lapland. No artist that ever crossed the Alps on his way to sunny Italy could feel happier than Castrén at the prospect14 of plunging15 into the wildernesses16 of the Arctic zone.
On June 25, 1838, the friends set out, and arrived on the 30th at the small town of Muonioniska, where they remained six weeks—a delay which Castrén put to good account in learning the Lapp language from a native catechist. At length the decreasing sun warned the travellers that it was high time to continue their journey, if they wished to see more of Lapland before the winter set in; and after having, with great difficulty, crossed the mountain ridge17 which forms the water-shed between the Gulf of Bothnia and the Polar Sea, they embarked18 on the romantic Iwalojoki, where for three days and nights the rushing waters roared around them. In spite of these dangerous rapids, they were obliged to trust themselves to the stream, which every now and then threatened to dash their frail19 boat to pieces against the rocks. Armed with long oars20, they were continually at work during the daytime to guard against169 this peril21; the nights were spent near a large fire kindled22 in the open air, without any shelter against the rain and wind.
The Iwalo River is, during the greater part of its course, encased between high rocks; but a few miles before it discharges itself into the large Lake of Enara, its valley improves into a fine grassy23 plain. Small islands covered with trees divide the waters, which now flow more tranquilly24; soon also traces of culture appear, and the astonished traveller finds in the village of Kyrö, not wretched Lapland huts, but well-built houses of Finnish settlers, with green meadows and cornfields.
The beautiful Lake of Enara, sixty miles long and forty miles broad, is so thickly studded with islands that they have never yet been counted. After the travellers had spent a few days among the Fisher Lapps who sojourn25 on its borders, they proceeded northward26 to Utzjoki, the limit of their expedition, and one of the centres of Lapland civilization, as it boasts of a church, which is served by a man of high character and of no little ability. On accepting his charge, this self-denying priest had performed the journey from Tornea in the depth of winter, accompanied by a young wife and a female relation of the latter, fifteen years of age. He had found the parsonage, vacated by his predecessor27, a wretched building, distant some fifteen miles from the nearest Lapp habitation. After establishing himself and his family in this dreary28 tenement29, he had returned from a pastoral excursion to find his home destroyed by a fire, from which its inmates30 had escaped with the loss of all that they possessed31. A miserable32 hut, built for the temporary shelter of the Lapps who resorted thither33 for divine service, afforded the family a refuge for the winter. He had since contrived35 to build himself another dwelling36, in which our party found him, after five years’ residence, the father of a family, and the chief of a happy household. Gladly would the travellers have remained some time longer under his hospitable37 roof, but the birds of passage were moving to the south, warning them to follow their example.
Thus they set out, on August 15, for their homeward voyage, which proved no less difficult and laborious38 than the former. At length, after wandering through deserts and swamps—frequently wet to the skin, and often without food for many hours—they arrived at Rowanièmi, where they embarked on the Kemi River.
“With conflicting feelings,” says Castrén, “I descended39 its stream; for every cataract40 was not only well-known to me from the days of my earliest childhood, but the cataracts41 were even the only acquaintances which death had left me in the place of my birth. Along with the mournful impressions which the loss of beloved relations made upon my mind, it was delightful42 to renew my intercourse43 with the rapid stream and its waterfalls—those boisterous44 playfellows, which had often brought me into peril when a boy. Now, as before, it was a pleasant sport to me to be hurried along by their tumultuous waters, and to be wetted by their spray. The boatmen often tried to persuade me to land before passing the most dangerous waterfalls, and declared that they could not be answerable for my safety. But, in spite of all their remonstrances45, I remained in the boat, nor had I reason to repent46 of my boldness, for170 He who is the steersman of all boats granted us a safe arrival at Kemi, where our Lapland journey terminated.”9
In 1841 Castrén published a metrical translation, into the Swedish language, of the “Kalewala,” a cycle of the oldest poems of the Fins; and at the end of the same year proceeded on his first great journey to the land of the European Samoïedes, and from thence across the northern Ural Mountains to Siberia. In the famous convent of Solovetskoi, situated on a small island in the White Sea, he hoped to find a friendly teacher of the Samoïede language in the Archimandrite Wenjamin, who had labored47 as a missionary48 among that savage49 people, but the churlish dignitary jealously refused him all assistance; and as the tundras of the Samoïedes are only accessible during the winter, he resolved to turn the interval50 to account by a journey among the Terski Lapps, who inhabit the western shores of the White Sea. With this view, in an evil hour of the 27th June, 1842, though suffering at this time from illness severe enough to have detained any less persevering51 traveller, he embarked at Archangel in a large corn-laden vessel52, with a reasonable prospect of being landed at Tri Ostrowa in some twenty-four hours; but a dead calm detained him eight days, during which he had no choice but to endure the horrible stench of Russian sea-stores in the cabin or the scorching53 sun on deck. At length a favorable wind arose, and after a few hours’ sailing nothing was to be seen but water and sky. Soon the Terski coast came in view, with its white ice-capped shore, and Castrén hoped soon to be released from his floating prison, when suddenly the wind changed, and, increasing to a storm, threatened to dash them on the cliffs of the Solovetskoi Islands.
“Both the captain and the ship’s company began to despair of their lives; and prayers having been resorted to in vain, to conjure54 the danger, general drunkenness was the next resource. The captain, finding his own brandy too weak to procure55 the stupefaction he desired, left me no peace till I had given him a bottle of rum. After having by degrees emptied its contents, he at length obtained his end, and fell asleep in the cabin. The crew, following his example, dropped down one by one into their cribs, and the ship was left without guidance to the mercy of the winds and waves. I alone remained on deck, and gloomily awaited the decisive moment. But I soon discovered that the wind was veering56 to the east, and, awaking the captain from his drunken lethargy, sent him on deck, and took possession of his bed. Exhausted57 by the dreadful scenes of the day, I soon fell into a deep slumber58; and when I awoke the following morning, I found myself again on the eastern coast of the White Sea, at the foot of a high sheltering rock-wall.”
Continued bad weather and increasing illness now forced Castrén to give up his projected visit to the Lapps, and when he returned to Archangel, both his health and his purse were in a sad condition. He had but fifteen roubles in his pocket, but fortunately found some Samoïede beggars still poorer than himself, one of whom, for the reward of an occasional glass of brandy, consented to become at once his host, his servant, and his private tutor in the Samoïede language.171 In the hut and society of this savage he passed the remainder of the summer, his health improved, and soon also his finances changed wonderfully for the better—the Government of Finland having granted him a thousand silver roubles for the prosecution59 of his travels. With a light heart he continued his linguistic60 studies until the end of November, when he started with renewed enthusiasm for the land of the European Samoïedes. These immense tundras extend from the White Sea to the Ural Mountains, and are bounded on the north by the Polar Sea, and on the south by the region of forests, which here reaches as high as the latitudes62 of 66° and 67°.
The large river Petschora divides these dreary wastes into two unequal halves, whose scanty63 population, as may easily be imagined, is sunk in the deepest barbarism. It consists of nomadic64 Samoïedes, and of a few Russians, who inhabit some miserable settlements along the great stream and its tributary65 rivers.
To bury himself for a whole year in these melancholy66 deserts, Castrén left Archangel in November, 1842. As far as Mesen, 345 versts north of Archangel, the scanty population is Russ and Christian67. At Mesen civilization ceases, and farther north the Samoïede retains for the most part, with his primitive68 habits and language, his heathen faith—having, in fact, borrowed nothing from occasional intercourse with civilized69 man but the means and practice of drunkenness. Castrén’s first care, on his arrival at Mesen, was to look for a Samoïede interpreter and teacher; but he was as unsuccessful here as at Somsha, a village some forty versts farther on, where drunkenness was the order of the day. He took the most temperate70 person he could find in all Somsha into his service, but even this moderate man would, according to our ideas, have been accounted a perfect drunkard. He now resolved to try the fair sex, and engaged a female teacher, but she also could not remain sober. At length a man was introduced to him as the most learned person of the tundra, and at first it seemed as if he had at length found what he wanted; but after a few hours the Samoïede began to get tired of his numerous questions, and declared himself ill. He threw himself upon the floor, wailed71 and lamented72, and begged Castrén to have pity on him, until at length the incensed73 philologist74 turned him out-of-doors. Soon after he found him lying dead drunk in the snow before the “Elephant and Castle” of the place.
Thus obliged to look for instruction elsewhere, Castrén resolved to travel, in the middle of winter, to the Russian village of Pustosersk, at the mouth of the Petschora, where the fair annually75 attracts a number of Samoïedes. During this sledge-journey of 700 versts, he had to rest sometimes in the open air on the storm-beaten tundra, and sometimes in the rickety tent of the Samoïede, or in the scarcely less wretched hut of the Russian colonist—where the snow penetrated76 through the crevices77 of the wall, where the flame of the light flickered78 in the wind, and a thick cloak of wolf-skin afforded the only protection against the piercing cold of the Arctic winter.
For this arduous79 tour, two sledges80, with four reindeer81 attached to each, were employed—the traveller’s sledge, which was covered, being attached to an uncovered one occupied by the guide. The Kanin Tundra stretched out before172 them, as they flew along, almost as naked as the sea, of which they saw the margin82 in the east; and had not the wind here and there driven away the snow which Heaven in its mercy strews83 over this gloomy land, they might have been in doubt on which element they were travelling. Daily, from time to time, some dwarf84 firs made their appearance, or clumps85 of low willows87, which generally denote the presence of some little brook88 slowly winding89 through the flat tundra.
The village of Ness, on the north coast, was the first halting-place, and here Castrén flattered himself he had at length found what his heart desired, in the person of a Samoïede teacher who knew Russian, and was gifted with a clearer head than is usually possessed by his race.
“The man was conscious of his superiority, and while acting90 as a professor looked down with contempt upon his weaker brethren. Once, some other Samoïedes venturing to correct one of his translations, he commanded them to be silent, telling them they were not learned. I tried by all possible means to secure the services of this Samoïede phenomenon. I spoke91 kindly92 with him, I paid him well, gave him every day his allowance of brandy, and never once forbade him to get drunk when he felt inclined to do so. Yet, in spite of all my endeavors to please, he felt unhappy, and sighed for the liberty of the tundra. ‘Thou art kind, and I love thee,’ said he one day to me, ‘but I can not endure confinement93. Be therefore merciful, and give me my freedom.’
“I now increased his daily pay and his rations94 of brandy, sent for his wife and child, treated his wife also with brandy, and did all I could to dispel95 the melancholy of the Samoïede. By these means I induced him to remain a few days longer with me.
“While I was constantly occupying him, the wife was busy sewing Samoïede dresses, and sometimes assisted her husband in his translations. I often heard her sighing deeply, and having asked for the reason, she burst into tears, and answered that she grieved for her husband, who was thus imprisoned96 in a room. ‘Thy husband,’ was my reply, ‘is not worse off than thyself. Tell me, what do you think of your own position?’ ‘I do not think of myself—I am sorrowful for my husband,’ was her ingenuous97 reply. At length both the husband and the wife begged me so earnestly to set them at liberty that I allowed them to depart.”
On the way from Pjoscha to Pustosersk, after Castrén had once more vainly endeavored to discover that rara avis, a Samoïede teacher, he became thoroughly98 acquainted with the January snow-storms of the tundra: “The wind arose about noon, and blew so violently that we could not see the reindeer before our sledges. The roof of my vehicle, which at first had afforded me some protection, was soon carried away by the gale99. Anxious about my fate, I questioned my guides, whenever they stopped to brush off the snow which had accumulated upon me, and received the invariable answer, ‘We do not know where we are, and see nothing.’ We proceeded step by step, now following one direction, now another, until at length we reached a river well known to the guides. The leader of the first sledge hurried his reindeer down the precipitous bank, and drove away upon the ice to seek a more convenient descent; but as he did not return, the other guide likewise left me to look after his companion, and thus I173 was kept waiting for several hours on the tundra, without knowing where my guides had gone to.
“At first I did not even know that they had left me, and when I became aware of the fact, I thought that they had abandoned me to my fate. I will not attempt to describe my sensations; but my bodily condition was such, that when the cold increased with the approach of night, I was seized with a violent fever. I thought my last hour was come, and prepared for my journey to another world.”
The re-appearance of the guides relieved Castrén of his anxiety, and when the little party reached some Samoïede huts, the eldest100 of the guides knelt down at the side of our traveller’s sledge and expressed his joy in a prayer to God, begging Castrén to join him in his thanksgivings, “for He, and not I, has this night saved thee.”
The next morning, as the weather seemed to improve, and the road (along the Indiga River) to the next Russian settlement was easy to find, Castrén resolved to pursue his journey. “But the storm once more arose, and became so dreadfully violent that I could neither breathe nor keep my eyes open against the wind. The roaring of the gale stupefied my senses. The moist snow wetted me during the day, and the night converted it into ice. Half frozen, I arrived after midnight at the settlement. The fatigues101 of the journey had been such that I could scarcely stand; I had almost lost my consciousness, and my sight had suffered so much from the wind that I repeatedly ran with my forehead against the wall. The roaring of the storm continually resounded102 in my ears for many hours after.”
A few days later Castrén arrived at Pustosersk, undoubtedly103 one of the dreariest104 places in the world. With scarcely a trace of arboreal105 vegetation, the eye, during the greater part of the year, rests on an interminable waste of snow, where the cold winds are almost perpetually raging. The storms are so violent as not seldom to carry away the roofs of the huts, and to prevent the wretched inhabitants from fetching water and fuel. In this Northern Eden our indefatigable106 ethnologist tarried several months, as it afforded him an excellent opportunity for continuing his studies of the language, manners, and religion of the Samoïedes, who come to the fair of Pustosersk during the winter, to barter107 their reindeer skins for flour and other commodities, and at the same time to indulge in their favorite beverage—brandy. At length the Samoïedes retired108, the busy season of the place was evidently at an end, and Castrén, having no further inducement to remain at Pustosersk, left it for the village of Ustsylmsk, situated 150 versts higher up the Petschora, where he hoped still to find some straggling Samoïedes. The road to Ustsylmsk leads through so desolate109 a region, that, according to the priests of the neighborhood, it can not have been originally created by God with the rest of the world, but must have been formed after the Deluge110. Near Ustsylmsk (65° 30´ N. lat.) the country improves, as most of the northern trees grow about the place; but, unfortunately, a similar praise can not be awarded to its inhabitants, whom Castrén found to be the most brutal111 and obstinate112 Raskolniks (or sectarians) he had ever seen. Without in the least caring for the Ten Commandments, and indulging in every vice34, these174 absurd fanatics113 fancied themselves better than the rest of mankind, because they made the sign of the cross with the thumb and the two last fingers, and stood for hours together before an image in stupid contemplation. Our homeless traveller soon became the object of their persecutions; they called him “wizard,” “a poisoner of rivers and wells,” and insulted him during his walks. At length they even attempted to take his life, so that he thought best to retreat to Ishemsk, on the Ishma, a hundred versts farther to the south. But, unfortunately, his bad reputation had preceded him, and although the Isprawnik (or parish official) and his wife warmly took his part, the people continued to regard him with suspicion.
Towards the end of June Castrén ascended114 the Petschora and its chief tributary, the Uusa, as far as the village of Kolwa, where he spent the remainder of the summer, deeply buried as usual in Samoïede studies. Beyond Kolwa, which he left on September 16 for Obdorsk, there is not a single settlement along the Uusa and its tributaries115.
As he ascended the river, the meadows on its low banks appeared colored with the gray tints116 of autumn. Sometimes a wild animal started from its lair117, but no vestige118 of man was to be seen. Countless119 flocks of wild ducks and geese passed over the traveller’s head, on their way southward.
After many a tedious delay, caused by storms and contrary winds, Castrén reached (on September 27) a wretched hut, about forty versts from the Ural, where he was obliged to wait a whole month, with fourteen other persons, until the snow-track over the mountains became practicable for sledges.
The total want of every comfort, the bad company, the perpetual rain, and the dreary aspect of the country, made his prolonged stay in this miserable tenement almost unbearable120. At length, on October 25, he was able to depart, and on November 3 he saw the Ural Mountains raising their snow-capped summits to the skies. “The weather is mild,” said his Samoïede driver, “and thou art fortunate, but the Ural can be very different.” He then described the dreadful storms that rage over the boundary-chain which separates Europe from Asia, and how they precipitate121 stones and rocks from the mountain-tops.
This time the dreaded122 pass was crossed in safety, and on November 9, 1843, Castrén arrived at Obdorsk, on the Obi, exhausted in strength and shattered in health, but yet delighted to find himself in Asia, the land of his early dreams. Obdorsk—the most northerly colony in Western Siberia, and, as may easily be imagined, utterly123 deficient124 in all that can be interesting to an ordinary traveller—was as much as a university to the zealous125 student, for several thousands of Samoïedes and Ostiaks congregate126 to its fair from hundreds of versts around.
No better place could possibly be found for the prosecution of his researches; but the deplorable condition of his health did not allow him to remain as long as he would have desired at this fountain-head of knowledge. He was thus obliged to leave for Tobolsk, and to return in March, 1844, by the shortest road to Finland.
In the following summer (1845) we again find him on the banks of the Irtysch and the Obi, plunged127 in Ostiak studies with renewed energy and enthusiasm.175 After having sojourned for several weeks at Toropkowa, a small island at the confluence128 of these two mighty129 streams, he ascended the Obi in July as far as Surgut, where he arrived in the beginning of August.
In consequence of the overflowing of its waters, the river had spread into a boundless130 lake, whose monotony was only relieved, from time to time, by some small wooded island or some inundated131 village. The rising of the stream had spread misery132 far and wide, for many Ostiak families had been obliged to abandon their huts, and to seek a refuge in the forests. Those who had horses and cows had the greatest difficulty to keep them alive; and as all the meadows were under water, and the autumn, with its night-frosts, was already approaching, there was scarcely any hope of making hay for the winter.
As Castrén proceeded on his journey, the low banks of the river rose above the waters, and appeared in all their wild and gloomy desolation. The number of inhabitants along the Obi is utterly insignificant133 when compared with the wide extent of the country; and as hunting and fishing are their chief occupations, nothing is done to subdue134 the wilderness. The weary eye sees but a dull succession of moors135, willow86 bushes, dry heaths, and firs on the higher grounds. Near every flourishing tree stands another bearing the marks of decay. The young grass is hemmed136 in its growth by that of the previous year, which even in July gives the meadow a dull ash-gray color. Cranes, wild ducks, and geese are almost the only living creatures to be seen. From Siljarski to Surgut, a distance of 200 versts, there are but three Russian villages; and the Ostiaks, who form the main part of the population, generally live along the tributary rivers, or erect137 their summer huts on the smaller arms of the Obi, where they can make a better use of their very imperfect fishing implements138 than on the principal stream.
Surgut, once a fortress139, and the chief town of the Cossack conquerors140 of Siberia, is now reduced to a few miserable huts, scattered141 among the ruins of repeated conflagrations142.
Here Castrén remained till September 24, occupied with the study of the various dialects of the neighboring Ostiak tribes, and then ascended the Obi as far as Narym, a distance of 800 versts. Most of the fishermen had already retired from the banks of the river, and a death-like stillness, rarely interrupted by an Ostiak boat rapidly shooting through the stream, reigned143 over its waters.
Fortunately the weather was fine, at least during the first days of the journey; and the green river-banks, the birds singing in the trees, and the sunbeams glancing over the wide mirror of the Obi, somewhat enlivened the monotony of the scene.
After having enjoyed at Narym a remarkably144 mild Siberian winter, as no crows had been frozen to death, and having increased his knowledge of the Ostiak dialects, Castrén proceeded in the following spring, by way of Tomsk, to Krasnojarsk, on the Jenissei, where he arrived in April, 1846, and was welcomed in a most agreeable and unexpected manner. It will be remembered that during his stay at Ishemsk, in the tundra of the Samoïedes, he found warm-hearted friends and protectors against the insane bigotry145 of the Raskolniks in the Isprawnik and his young and amiable146 wife. Of the latter it might truly be said176 that she was like a flower born to blush unseen in the desert. Remarkably eloquent147, she was no less talented in expressing her thoughts by writing; and yet she was only the daughter of a serf who had been exiled to Krasnojarsk, and had spent a great part of a small property, acquired by industry and economy, in the education of his gifted daughter. The Isprawnik, a young Pole of insinuating148 manners, having gained her affections, she had accompanied him to Ishemsk as his wife.
From what Castrén had told her three years since about his future plans, she knew that he would probably arrive about this time at Krasnojarsk, and had written a letter, which reached its destination only a few hours before him. It was to her father, earnestly begging him to pay every attention to the homeless stranger. The feelings of Castrén may easily be imagined when the old man knocked at his door, and brought him these friendly greetings from a distance of 6000 versts.10
But his stay at Krasnojarsk was not of long duration, for he was impatient to proceed northward, for the purpose of becoming acquainted with the tribes dwelling along the Jenissei, after having studied their brethren of the Obi. From June till the end of July, his literary pursuits detained him at Turuchansk, where, in the vicinity of the Arctic Circle, he had much to suffer from the heat and the mosquitoes. In the beginning of August the signs of approaching winter made their appearance, the cold north wind swept away the leaves from the trees, the fishermen retired to the woods, and the ducks and geese prepared to migrate to the south. And now Castrén also took leave of Turuchansk—not however, like the birds, for a more sunny region, but to bury himself still deeper in the northern wilds of the Jenissei. Below Turuchansk the river begins to flow so languidly, that when the wind is contrary, the boat must be dragged along by dogs, and advances no more than from five to ten versts during a whole day. Thus the traveller has full time to notice the willows on the left bank, and the firs on the right; the ice-blocks, surviving memorials of the last winter, which the spring inundations have left here and there on the banks of the vast stream; and the countless troops of wild birds that fly with loud clamor over his head.
About 365 versts below Turuchansk is situated Plachina, the fishing-station of a small tribe of Samoïedes, among whom Castrén tarried three weeks. He had taken possession of the best of the three huts of which the place consisted, but even this would have been perfectly149 intolerable to any one but our zealous ethnologist. Into his study the daylight penetrated so sparingly through a small hole in the wall, that he was often obliged to write by the light of a resinous150 torch in the middle of the day.
The flame flickering151 in the wind, which blew through a thousand crevices, affected152 his eyes no less severely153 than the smoke, which at the same time rendered respiration154 difficult. Although the roof had been repaired, yet during every strong rain—and it rained almost perpetually—he was obliged to pack up his papers, and to protect himself from the wet as if he had been in the open air. From this delightful residence, Castrén, still pursuing his study of the Samoïede177 dialects, proceeded down the river to Dudinka, and finally, in November, to Tolstoi Noss, whose pleasant climate may be judged of by the fact that it is situated in the latitude61 of 71°. This last voyage was performed in a “balok,” or close sledge, covered with reindeer skins. The tediousness of being conveyed like a corpse155 in a dark and narrow box, induced him to exchange the “balok” for an open sledge; but the freezing of his feet, of his fingers, and of part of his face, soon caused him to repent of his temerity156. As soon as this accident was discovered at the next station, Castrén crept back again into his prison, and was heartily157 glad when, after a nine days’ confinement, he at length arrived at Tolstoi Noss, which he found to consist of four wretched huts. Here again he spent several weeks studying by torchlight, for the sun had made his last appearance in November, and the day was reduced to a faint glimmering158 at noon. In January we find him on his return-voyage to Turuchansk, a place which, though not very charming in itself, appeared delightful to Castrén after a six months’ residence in the tundras beyond the Arctic Circle.
Turuchansk can boast at least of seeing some daylight at all seasons of the year, and this may be enjoyed even within-doors, for Turuchansk possesses no less than four houses with glass windows. Longing159 to reach this comparatively sunny place, Castrén, against his usual custom, resolved to travel day and night without stopping, but his impatience160 well-nigh proved fatal to him. His Samoïede guide had not perceived in the dark that the waters of the Jenissei, over which they were travelling, had oozed161 through fissures162 in the ice, and inundated the surface of the river far and wide. Thus he drove into the water, which of course was rapidly congealing163; the reindeer were unable to drag the sledge back again upon the land, and Castrén stuck fast on the river, with the agreeable prospect of being frozen to death. From this imminent164 danger he was rescued by a wonderful circumstance. Letters having arrived from the Imperial Academy of St. Petersburg, a courier had been dispatched from Turuchansk to convey them to Castrén. This courier fortunately reached him while he was in this perilous165 situation, helped him on land, and conducted him to a Samoïede hut, where he was able to warm his stiffened166 limbs.
After such a journey, we can not wonder that, on arriving at Turuchansk, he was so tormented167 with rheumatism168 and toothache as to be obliged to rest there several days. With sore joints169 and an aching body, he slowly proceeded to Jeniseisk, where he arrived on April 3, 1847, in a wretched state of health, which however had not interrupted his Ostiak studies on the way. I rapidly glance over his subsequent travels, as they are but a repetition of the same privations and the same hardships, all cheerfully sustained for the love of knowledge. Having somewhat recruited his strength at Jeniseisk, he crossed the Sajan Mountains to visit some Samoïedes beyond the Russian frontier—a journey which, besides the usual fatigues, involved the additional risk of being arrested as a spy by the Chinese authorities; and the year after he visited Transbaikalia, to make inquiries170 among the Buriat priests about the ancient history of Siberia.
Having thus accomplished171 his task, and thoroughly investigated the wild nations of the Finnish race from the confines of the Arctic Sea to the Altai—a task178 which cost him his health, and the best part of his energies—he longed to breathe the air of his native country. But neither the pleasures of home, nor a professorship at the University of Helsingfors, richly earned by almost super-human exertions172, were able to arrest the germs of disease, which journeys such as these could scarcely fail to plant even in his originally robust173 constitution. After lingering some years, he died in 1855, universally lamented by his countrymen, who justly mourned his early death as a national loss.
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1 pastor | |
n.牧师,牧人 | |
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2 tundra | |
n.苔原,冻土地带 | |
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3 tundras | |
n.(多数位于北极圈的)冻土带( tundra的名词复数 );苔原;冻原;寒漠 | |
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4 sledge | |
n.雪橇,大锤;v.用雪橇搬运,坐雪橇往 | |
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5 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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6 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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7 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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8 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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9 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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10 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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11 celebrity | |
n.名人,名流;著名,名声,名望 | |
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12 fins | |
[医]散热片;鱼鳍;飞边;鸭掌 | |
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13 insufficient | |
adj.(for,of)不足的,不够的 | |
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14 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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15 plunging | |
adj.跳进的,突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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16 wildernesses | |
荒野( wilderness的名词复数 ); 沙漠; (政治家)在野; 不再当政(或掌权) | |
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17 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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18 embarked | |
乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 ); 装载; 从事 | |
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19 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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20 oars | |
n.桨,橹( oar的名词复数 );划手v.划(行)( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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21 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
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22 kindled | |
(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
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23 grassy | |
adj.盖满草的;长满草的 | |
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24 tranquilly | |
adv. 宁静地 | |
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25 sojourn | |
v./n.旅居,寄居;逗留 | |
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26 northward | |
adv.向北;n.北方的地区 | |
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27 predecessor | |
n.前辈,前任 | |
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28 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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29 tenement | |
n.公寓;房屋 | |
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30 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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31 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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32 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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33 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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34 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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35 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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36 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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37 hospitable | |
adj.好客的;宽容的;有利的,适宜的 | |
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38 laborious | |
adj.吃力的,努力的,不流畅 | |
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39 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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40 cataract | |
n.大瀑布,奔流,洪水,白内障 | |
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41 cataracts | |
n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 );白内障 | |
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42 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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43 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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44 boisterous | |
adj.喧闹的,欢闹的 | |
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45 remonstrances | |
n.抱怨,抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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46 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
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47 labored | |
adj.吃力的,谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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48 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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49 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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50 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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51 persevering | |
a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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52 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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53 scorching | |
adj. 灼热的 | |
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54 conjure | |
v.恳求,祈求;变魔术,变戏法 | |
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55 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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56 veering | |
n.改变的;犹豫的;顺时针方向转向;特指使船尾转向上风来改变航向v.(尤指交通工具)改变方向或路线( veer的现在分词 );(指谈话内容、人的行为或观点)突然改变;(指风) (在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向)逐渐转向;风向顺时针转 | |
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57 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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58 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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59 prosecution | |
n.起诉,告发,检举,执行,经营 | |
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60 linguistic | |
adj.语言的,语言学的 | |
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61 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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62 latitudes | |
纬度 | |
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63 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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64 nomadic | |
adj.流浪的;游牧的 | |
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65 tributary | |
n.支流;纳贡国;adj.附庸的;辅助的;支流的 | |
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66 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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67 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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68 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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69 civilized | |
a.有教养的,文雅的 | |
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70 temperate | |
adj.温和的,温带的,自我克制的,不过分的 | |
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71 wailed | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72 lamented | |
adj.被哀悼的,令人遗憾的v.(为…)哀悼,痛哭,悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73 incensed | |
盛怒的 | |
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74 philologist | |
n.语言学者,文献学者 | |
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75 annually | |
adv.一年一次,每年 | |
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76 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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77 crevices | |
n.(尤指岩石的)裂缝,缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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78 flickered | |
(通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79 arduous | |
adj.艰苦的,费力的,陡峭的 | |
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80 sledges | |
n.雪橇,雪车( sledge的名词复数 )v.乘雪橇( sledge的第三人称单数 );用雪橇运载 | |
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81 reindeer | |
n.驯鹿 | |
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82 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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83 strews | |
v.撒在…上( strew的第三人称单数 );散落于;点缀;撒满 | |
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84 dwarf | |
n.矮子,侏儒,矮小的动植物;vt.使…矮小 | |
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85 clumps | |
n.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的名词复数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声v.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声 | |
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86 willow | |
n.柳树 | |
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87 willows | |
n.柳树( willow的名词复数 );柳木 | |
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88 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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89 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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90 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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91 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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92 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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93 confinement | |
n.幽禁,拘留,监禁;分娩;限制,局限 | |
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94 rations | |
定量( ration的名词复数 ); 配给量; 正常量; 合理的量 | |
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95 dispel | |
vt.驱走,驱散,消除 | |
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96 imprisoned | |
下狱,监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97 ingenuous | |
adj.纯朴的,单纯的;天真的;坦率的 | |
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98 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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99 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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100 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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101 fatigues | |
n.疲劳( fatigue的名词复数 );杂役;厌倦;(士兵穿的)工作服 | |
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102 resounded | |
v.(指声音等)回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 );产生回响;(指某处)回荡着声音 | |
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103 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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104 dreariest | |
使人闷闷不乐或沮丧的( dreary的最高级 ); 阴沉的; 令人厌烦的; 单调的 | |
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105 arboreal | |
adj.树栖的;树的 | |
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106 indefatigable | |
adj.不知疲倦的,不屈不挠的 | |
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107 barter | |
n.物物交换,以货易货,实物交易 | |
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108 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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109 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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110 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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111 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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112 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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113 fanatics | |
狂热者,入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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114 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115 tributaries | |
n. 支流 | |
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116 tints | |
色彩( tint的名词复数 ); 带白的颜色; (淡色)染发剂; 痕迹 | |
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117 lair | |
n.野兽的巢穴;躲藏处 | |
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118 vestige | |
n.痕迹,遗迹,残余 | |
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119 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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120 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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121 precipitate | |
adj.突如其来的;vt.使突然发生;n.沉淀物 | |
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122 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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123 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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124 deficient | |
adj.不足的,不充份的,有缺陷的 | |
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125 zealous | |
adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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126 congregate | |
v.(使)集合,聚集 | |
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127 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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128 confluence | |
n.汇合,聚集 | |
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129 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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130 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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131 inundated | |
v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 );(洪水般地)涌来;充满;给予或交予(太多事物)使难以应付 | |
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132 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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133 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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134 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
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135 moors | |
v.停泊,系泊(船只)( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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136 hemmed | |
缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 ); 包围 | |
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137 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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138 implements | |
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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139 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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140 conquerors | |
征服者,占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
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141 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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142 conflagrations | |
n.大火(灾)( conflagration的名词复数 ) | |
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143 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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144 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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145 bigotry | |
n.偏见,偏执,持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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146 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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147 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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148 insinuating | |
adj.曲意巴结的,暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 );巧妙或迂回地潜入;(使)缓慢进入;慢慢伸入 | |
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149 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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150 resinous | |
adj.树脂的,树脂质的,树脂制的 | |
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151 flickering | |
adj.闪烁的,摇曳的,一闪一闪的 | |
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152 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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153 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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154 respiration | |
n.呼吸作用;一次呼吸;植物光合作用 | |
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155 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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156 temerity | |
n.鲁莽,冒失 | |
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157 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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158 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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159 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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160 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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161 oozed | |
v.(浓液等)慢慢地冒出,渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 );使(液体)缓缓流出;(浓液)渗出,慢慢流出 | |
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162 fissures | |
n.狭长裂缝或裂隙( fissure的名词复数 );裂伤;分歧;分裂v.裂开( fissure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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163 congealing | |
v.使凝结,冻结( congeal的现在分词 );(指血)凝结 | |
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164 imminent | |
adj.即将发生的,临近的,逼近的 | |
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165 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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166 stiffened | |
加强的 | |
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167 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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168 rheumatism | |
n.风湿病 | |
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169 joints | |
接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
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170 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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171 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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172 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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173 robust | |
adj.强壮的,强健的,粗野的,需要体力的,浓的 | |
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