The first shadow that fell upon me in my new home was caused by the return of my parents to New Orleans. Their visit was cut short by business which required my father's presence in Natchez, where he was establishing a branch of the bankinghouse. When they had gone, a sense of loneliness such as I had never dreamed of filled my young breast. I crept away to the stable, and, throwing my arms about Gypsy's neck, sobbed3 aloud. She too had come from the sunny South, and was now a stranger in a strange land.
The little mare4 seemed to realize our situation, and gave me all the sympathy I could ask, repeatedly rubbing her soft nose over my face and lapping up my salt tears with evident relish5.
When night came, I felt still more lonesome. My grandfather sat in his arm-chair the greater part of the evening, reading the Rivermouth Bamacle, the local newspaper. There was no gas in those days, and the Captain read by the aid of a small block-tin lamp, which he held in one hand. I observed that he had a habit of dropping off into a doze6 every three or four minutes, and I forgot my homesickness at intervals8 in watching him. Two or three times, to my vast amusement, he scorched9 the edges of the newspaper with the wick of the lamp; and at about half past eight o'clock I had the satisfactions--I am sorry to confess it was a satisfaction--of seeing the Rivermouth Barnacle in flames.
My grandfather leisurely10 extinguished the fire with his hands, and Miss Abigail, who sat near a low table, knitting by the light of an astral lamp, did not even look up. She was quite used to this catastrophe11.
There was little or no conversation during the evening. In fact, I do not remember that anyone spoke12 at all, excepting once, when the Captain remarked, in a meditative13 manner, that my parents "must have reached New York by this time"; at which supposition I nearly strangled myself in attempting to intercept14 a sob2.
The monotonous15 "click click" of Miss Abigail's needles made me nervous after a while, and finally drove me out of the sitting-room16 into the kitchen, where Kitty caused me to laugh by saying Miss Abigail thought that what I needed was "a good dose of hot-drops," a remedy she was forever ready to administer in all emergencies. If a boy broke his leg, or lost his mother, I believe Miss Abigail would have given him hot-drops.
Kitty laid herself out to be entertaining. She told me several funny Irish stories, and described some of the odd people living in the town; but, in the midst of her comicalities, the tears would involuntarily ooze18 out of my eyes, though I was not a lad much addicted19 to weeping. Then Kitty would put her arms around me, and tell me not to mind it--that it wasn't as if I had been left alone in a foreign land with no one to care for me, like a poor girl whom she had once known. I brightened up before long, and told Kitty all about the Typhoon and the old seaman20, whose name I tried in vain to recall, and was obliged to fall back on plain Sailor Ben.
I was glad when ten o'clock came, the bedtime for young folks, and old folks too, at the Nutter21 House. Alone in the hallchamber I had my cry out, once for all, moistening the pillow to such an extent that I was obliged to turn it over to find a dry spot to go to sleep on.
My grandfather wisely concluded to put me to school at once. If I had been permitted to go mooning about the house and stables, I should have kept my discontent alive for months. The next morning, accordingly, he took me by the hand, and we set forth22 for the academy, which was located at the farther end of the town.
The Temple School was a two-story brick building, standing23 in the centre of a great square piece of land, surrounded by a high picket24 fence. There were three or four sickly trees, but no grass, in this enclosure, which had been worn smooth and hard by the tread of multitudinous feet. I noticed here and there small holes scooped25 in the ground, indicating that it was the season for marbles. A better playground for baseball couldn't have been devised.
On reaching the schoolhouse door, the Captain inquired for Mr. Grimshaw. The boy who answered our knock ushered26 us into a side-room, and in a few minutes--during which my eye took in forty-two caps hung on forty-two wooden pegs--Mr. Grimshaw made his appearance. He was a slender man, with white, fragile hands, and eyes that glanced half a dozen different ways at once--a habit probably acquired from watching the boys.
After a brief consultation27, my grandfather patted me on the head and left me in charge of this gentleman, who seated himself in front of me and proceeded to sound the depth, or, more properly speaking, the shallowness, of my attainments28. I suspect my historical information rather startled him. I recollect29 I gave him to understand that Richard III was the last king of England.
This ordeal30 over, Mr. Grimshaw rose and bade me follow him. A door opened, and I stood in the blaze of forty-two pairs of upturned eyes. I was a cool hand for my age, but I lacked the boldness to face this battery without wincing31. In a sort of dazed way I stumbled after Mr. Grimshaw down a narrow aisle32 between two rows of desks, and shyly took the seat pointed33 out to me.
The faint buzz that had floated over the school-room at our entrance died away, and the interrupted lessons were resumed. By degrees I recovered my coolness, and ventured to look around me.
The owners of the forty-two caps were seated at small green desks like the one assigned to me. The desks were arranged in six rows, with spaces between just wide enough to prevent the boys' whispering. A blackboard set into the wall extended clear across the end of the room; on a raised platform near the door stood the master's table; and directly in front of this was a recitation-bench capable of seating fifteen or twenty pupils. A pair of globes, tattooed34 with dragons and winged horses, occupied a shelf between two windows, which were so high from the floor that nothing but a giraffe could have looked out of them.
Having possessed35 myself of these details, I scrutinized36 my new acquaintances with unconcealed curiosity, instinctively37 selecting my friends and picking out my enemies--and in only two cases did I mistake my man.
A sallow boy with bright red hair, sitting in the fourth row, shook his fist at me furtively38 several times during the morning. I had a presentiment39 I should have trouble with that boy some day--a presentiment subsequently realized.
On my left was a chubby40 little fellow with a great many freckles41 (this was Pepper Whitcomb), who made some mysterious motions to me. I didn't understand them, but, as they were clearly of a pacific nature, I winked42 my eye at him. This appeared to be satisfactory, for he then went on with his studies. At recess43 he gave me the core of his apple, though there were several applicants44 for it.
Presently a boy in a loose olive-green jacket with two rows of brass46 buttons held up a folded paper behind his slate47, intimating that it was intended for me. The paper was passed skillfully from desk to desk until it reached my hands. On opening the scrap48, I found that it contained a small piece of molasses candy in an extremely humid state. This was certainly kind. I nodded my acknowledgments and hastily slipped the delicacy49 into my mouth. In a second I felt my tongue grow red-hot with cayenne pepper.
My face must have assumed a comical expression, for the boy in the olive-green jacket gave an hysterical50 laugh, for which he was instantly punished by Mr. Grimshaw. I swallowed the fiery51 candy, though it brought the water to my eyes, and managed to look so unconcerned that I was the only pupil in the form who escaped questioning as to the cause of Marden's misdemeanor. C. Marden was his name.
Nothing else occurred that morning to interrupt the exercises, excepting that a boy in the reading class threw us all into convulsions by calling Absalom A-bol'-som "Abolsom, O my son Abolsom!" I laughed as loud as anyone, but I am not so sure that I shouldn't have pronounced it Abolsom myself.
At recess several of the scholars came to my desk and shook hands with me, Mr. Grimshaw having previously52 introduced me to Phil Adams, charging him to see that I got into no trouble. My new acquaintances suggested that we should go to the playground. We were no sooner out-of-doors than the boy with the red hair thrust his way through the crowd and placed himself at my side.
"I say, youngster, if you're comin' to this school you've got to toe the mark."
I didn't see any mark to toe, and didn't understand what he meant; but I replied politely, that, if it was the custom of the school, I should be happy to toe the mark, if he would point it out to me.
"Look here, Conway!" cried a clear voice from the other side of the playground. "You let young Bailey alone. He's a stranger here, and might be afraid of you, and thrash you. Why do you always throw yourself in the way of getting thrashed?"
I turned to the speaker, who by this time had reached the spot where we stood. Conway slunk off, favoring me with a parting scowl53 of defiance55. I gave my hand to the boy who had befriended me--his name was Jack45 Harris--and thanked him for his good-will.
"I tell you what it is, Bailey," he said, returning my pressure good-naturedly, "you'll have to fight Conway before the quarter ends, or you'll have no rest. That fellow is always hankering after a licking, and of course you'll give him one by and by; but what's the use of hurrying up an unpleasant job? Let's have some baseball. By the way, Bailey, you were a good kid not to let on to Grimshaw about the candy. Charley Marden would have caught it twice as heavy. He's sorry he played the joke on you, and told me to tell you so. Hallo, Blake! Where are the bats?"
This was addressed to a handsome, frank-looking lad of about my own age, who was engaged just then in cutting his initials on the bark of a tree near the schoolhouse. Blake shut up his penknife and went off to get the bats.
During the game which ensued I made the acquaintance of Charley Marden, Binny Wallace, Pepper Whitcomb, Harry56 Blake, and Fred Langdon. These boys, none of them more than a year or two older than I (Binny Wallace was younger), were ever after my chosen comrades. Phil Adams and Jack Harris were considerably57 our seniors, and, though they always treated us "kids" very kindly58, they generally went with another set. Of course, before long I knew all the Temple boys more or less intimately, but the five I have named were my constant companions.
My first day at the Temple Grammar School was on the whole satisfactory. I had made several warm friends and only two permanent enemies--Conway and his echo, Seth Rodgers; for these two always went together like a deranged59 stomach and a headache.
Before the end of the week I had my studies well in hand. I was a little ashamed at finding myself at the foot of the various classes, and secretly determined60 to deserve promotion61. The school was an admirable one. I might make this part of my story more entertaining by picturing Mr. Grimshaw as a tyrant62 with a red nose and a large stick; but unfortunately for the purposes of sensational63 narrative64, Mr. Grimshaw was a quiet, kindhearted gentleman. Though a rigid65 disciplinarian, he had a keen sense of justice, was a good reader of character, and the boys respected him. There were two other teachers--a French tutor and a writing-master, who visited the school twice a week. On Wednesdays and Saturdays we were dismissed at noon, and these half-holidays were the brightest epochs of my existence.
Daily contact with boys who had not been brought up as gently as I worked an immediate66, and, in some respects, a beneficial change in my character. I had the nonsense taken out of me, as the saying is--some of the nonsense, at least. I became more manly67 and self-reliant. I discovered that the world was not created exclusively on my account. In New Orleans I labored68 under the delusion69 that it was. Having neither brother nor sister to give up to at home, and being, moreover, the largest pupil at school there, my will had seldom been opposed. At Rivermouth matters were different, and I was not long in adapting myself to the altered circumstances. Of course I got many severe rubs, often unconsciously given; but I had the sense to see that I was all the better for them.
My social relations with my new schoolfellows were the pleasantest possible. There was always some exciting excursion on foot--a ramble70 through the pine woods, a visit to the Devil's Pulpit, a high cliff in the neighborhood--or a surreptitious low on the river, involving an exploration of a group of diminutive71 islands, upon one of which we pitched a tent and played we were the Spanish sailors who got wrecked72 there years ago. But the endless pine forest that skirted the town was our favorite haunt. There was a great green pond hidden somewhere in its depths, inhabited by a monstrous73 colony of turtles. Harry Blake, who had an eccentric passion for carving74 his name on everything, never let a captured turtle slip through his fingers without leaving his mark engraved75 on its shell. He must have lettered about two thousand from first to last. We used to call them Harry Blake's sheep.
These turtles were of a discontented and migratory76 turn of mind, and we frequently encountered two or three of them on the cross-roads several miles from their ancestral mud. Unspeakable was our delight whenever we discovered one soberly walking off with Harry Blake's initials! I've no doubt there are, at this moment, fat ancient turtles wandering about that gummy woodland with H.B. neatly77 cut on their venerable backs.
It soon became a custom among my playmates to make our barn their rendezvous78. Gypsy proved a strong attraction. Captain Nutter bought me a little two-wheeled cart, which she drew quite nicely, after kicking out the dasher and breaking the shafts79 once or twice. With our lunch-baskets and fishing-tackle stowed away under the seat, we used to start off early in the afternoon for the sea-shore, where there were countless81 marvels82 in the shape of shells, mosses83, and kelp. Gypsy enjoyed the sport as keenly as any of us, even going so far, one day, as to trot84 down the beach into the sea where we were bathing. As she took the cart with her, our provisions were not much improved. I shall never forget how squash-pie tastes after being soused in the Atlantic Ocean. Soda-crackers dipped in salt water are palatable85, but not squash-pie.
There was a good deal of wet weather during those first six weeks at Rivermouth, and we set ourselves at work to find some indoor amusement for our half-holidays. It was all very well for Amadis de Gaul and Don Quixote not to mind the rain; they had iron overcoats, and were not, from all we can learn, subject to croup and the guidance of their grandfathers. Our case was different.
"Now, boys, what shall we do?" I asked, addressing a thoughtful conclave86 of seven, assembled in our barn one dismal87 rainy afternoon.
"Let's have a theatre," suggested Binny Wallace.
The very thing! But where? The loft88 of the stable was ready to burst with hay provided for Gypsy, but the long room over the carriage-house was unoccupied. The place of all places! My managerial eye saw at a glance its capabilities89 for a theatre. I had been to the play a great many times in New Orleans, and was wise in matters pertaining90 to the drama. So here, in due time, was set up some extraordinary scenery of my own painting. The curtain, I recollect, though it worked smoothly91 enough on other occasions, invariably hitched92 during the performances; and it often required the united energies of the Prince of Denmark, the King, and the Grave-digger, with an occasional band from "the fair Ophelia" (Pepper Whitcomb in a low-necked dress), to hoist93 that bit of green cambric.
The theatre, however, was a success, as far as it went. I retired94 from the business with no fewer than fifteen hundred pins, after deducting95 the headless, the pointless, and the crooked96 pins with which our doorkeeper frequently got "stuck." From first to last we took in a great deal of this counterfeit97 money. The price of admission to the "Rivermouth Theatre" was twenty pins. I played all the principal parts myself--not that I was a finer actor than the other boys, but because I owned the establishment.
At the tenth representation, my dramatic career was brought to a close by an unfortunate circumstance. We were playing the drama of "William Tell, the Hero of Switzerland." Of course I was William Tell, in spite of Fred Langdon, who wanted to act that character himself. I wouldn't let him, so he withdrew from the company, taking the only bow and arrow we had. I made a cross-bow out of a piece of whalebone, and did very well without him. We had reached that exciting scene where Gessler, the Austrian tyrant, commands Tell to shoot the apple from his son's head. Pepper Whitcomb, who played all the juvenile98 and women parts, was my son. To guard against mischance, a piece of pasteboard was fastened by a handkerchief over the upper portion of Whitcomb's face, while the arrow to be used was sewed up in a strip of flannel99. I was a capital marksman, and the big apple, only two yards distant, turned its russet cheek fairly towards me.
I can see poor little Pepper now, as he stood without flinching100, waiting for me to perform my great feat101. I raised the crossbow amid the breathless silence of the crowded audience consisting of seven boys and three girls, exclusive of Kitty Collins, who insisted on paying her way in with a clothes-pin. I raised the cross-bow, I repeat. Twang! went the whipcord; but, alas102! instead of hitting the apple, the arrow flew right into Pepper Whitcomb's mouth, which happened to be open at the time, and destroyed my aim.
I shall never be able to banish103 that awful moment from my memory. Pepper's roar, expressive104 of astonishment105, indignation, and pain, is still ringing in my cars. I looked upon him as a corpse106, and, glancing not far into the dreary107 future, pictured myself led forth to execution in the presence of the very same spectators then assembled.
Luckily poor Pepper was not seriously hurt; but Grandfather Nutter, appearing in the midst of the confusion (attracted by the howls of young Tell), issued an injunction against all theatricals108 thereafter, and the place was closed; not, however, without a farewell speech from me, in which I said that this would have been the proudest moment of my life if I hadn't hit Pepper Whitcomb in the mouth. Whereupon the audience (assisted, I am glad to state, by Pepper) cried "Hear! Hear!" I then attributed the accident to Pepper himself, whose mouth, being open at the instant I fired, acted upon the arrow much after the fashion of a whirlpool, and drew in the fatal shaft80. I was about to explain how a comparatively small maelstrom109 could suck in the largest ship, when the curtain fell of its own accord, amid the shouts of the audience.
This was my last appearance on any stage. It was some time, though, before I heard the end of the William Tell business. Malicious110 little boys who had not been allowed to buy tickets to my theatre used to cry out after me in the street,
'I,' said the sparrer,
'With my bow and arrer,
I killed Cock Robin!'"
The sarcasm112 of this verse was more than I could stand. And it made Pepper Whitcomb pretty mad to be called Cock Robin, I can tell you!
So the days glided113 on, with fewer clouds and more sunshine than fall to the lot of most boys. Conway was certainly a cloud. Within school-bounds he seldom ventured to be aggressive; but whenever we met about town he never failed to brush against me, or pull my cap over my eyes, or drive me distracted by inquiring after my family in New Orleans, always alluding114 to them as highly respectable colored people.
Jack Harris was right when he said Conway would give me no rest until I fought him. I felt it was ordained115 ages before our birth that we should meet on this planet and fight. With the view of not running counter to destiny, I quietly prepared myself for the impending116 conflict. The scene of my dramatic triumphs was turned into a gymnasium for this purpose, though I did not openly avow117 the fact to the boys. By persistently118 standing on my head, raising heavy weights, and going hand over hand up a ladder, I developed my muscle until my little body was as tough as a hickory knot and as supple119 as tripe120. I also took occasional lessons in the noble art of self-defence, under the tuition of Phil Adams.
I brooded over the matter until the idea of fighting Conway became a part of me. I fought him in imagination during school-hours; I dreamed of fighting with him at night, when he would suddenly expand into a giant twelve feet high, and then as suddenly shrink into a pygmy so small that I couldn't hit him. In this latter shape he would get into my hair, or pop into my waistcoat-pocket, treating me with as little ceremony as the Liliputians showed Captain Lemuel Gulliver--all of which was not pleasant, to be sure. On the whole, Conway was a cloud.
And then I had a cloud at home. It was not Grandfather Nutter, nor Miss Abigail, nor Kitty Collins, though they all helped to compose it. It was a vague, funereal121, impalpable something which no amount of gymnastic training would enable me to knock over. It was Sunday. If ever I have a boy to bring up in the way he should go, I intend to make Sunday a cheerful day to him. Sunday was not a cheerful day at the Nutter House. You shall judge for yourself.
It is Sunday morning. I should premise122 by saying that the deep gloom which has settled over everything set in like a heavy fog early on Saturday evening.
At seven o'clock my grandfather comes smilelessly downstairs. He is dressed in black, and looks as if he had lost all his friends during the night. Miss Abigail, also in black, looks as if she were prepared to bury them, and not indisposed to enjoy the ceremony. Even Kitty Collins has caught the contagious123 gloom, as I perceive when she brings in the coffee-urn1--a solemn and sculpturesque urn at any time, but monumental now--and sets it down in front of Miss Abigail. Miss Abigail gazes at the urn as if it held the ashes of her ancestors, instead of a generous quantity of fine old Java coffee. The meal progresses in silence.
Our parlor124 is by no means thrown open every day. It is open this June morning, and is pervaded125 by a strong smell of centretable. The furniture of the room, and the little China ornaments126 on the mantel-piece, have a constrained127, unfamiliar128 look. My grandfather sits in a mahogany chair, reading a large Bible covered with green baize. Miss Abigail occupies one end of the sofa, and has her hands crossed stiffly in her lap. I sit in the corner, crushed. Robinson Crusoe and Gil Blas are in close confinement130. Baron131 Trenck, who managed to escape from the fortress132 of Clatz, can't for the life of him get out of our sittingroom closet. Even the Rivermouth Barnacle is suppressed until Monday. Genial133 converse134, harmless books, smiles, lightsome hearts, all are banished135. If I want to read anything, I can read Baxter's Saints' Rest. I would die first. So I sit there kicking my heels, thinking about New Orleans, and watching a morbid136 blue-bottle fly that attempts to commit suicide by butting137 his head against the window-pane. Listen!--no, yes--it is--it is the robins129 singing in the garden--the grateful, joyous138 robins singing away like mad, just as if it wasn't Sunday. Their audacity139 tickles140 me.
My grandfather looks up, and inquires in a sepulchral141 voice if I am ready for Sabbath school. It is time to go. I like the Sabbath school; there are bright young faces there, at all events. When I get out into the sunshine alone, I draw a long breath; I would turn a somersault up against Neighbor Penhallow's newly painted fence if I hadn't my best trousers on, so glad am I to escape from the oppressive atmosphere of the Nutter House.
Sabbath school over, I go to meeting, joining my grandfather, who doesn't appear to be any relation to me this day, and Miss Abigail, in the porch. Our minister holds out very little hope to any of us of being saved. Convinced that I am a lost creature, in common with the human family, I return home behind my guardians142 at a snail's pace. We have a dead cold dinner. I saw it laid out yesterday.
There is a long interval7 between this repast and the second service, and a still longer interval between the beginning and the end of that service; for the Rev17. Wibird Hawkins's sermons are none of the shortest, whatever else they may be.
After meeting, my grandfather and I take a walk. We visit appropriately enough--a neighboring graveyard143. I am by this time in a condition of mind to become a willing inmate144 of the place. The usual evening prayer-meeting is postponed145 for some reason. At half past eight I go to bed.
This is the way Sunday was observed in the Nutter House, and pretty generally throughout the town, twenty years ago.(1) People who were prosperous and natural and happy on Saturday became the most rueful of human beings in the brief space of twelve hours. I don't think there was any hypocrisy146 in this. It was merely the old Puritan austerity cropping out once a week. Many of these people were pure Christians147 every day in the seven--excepting the seventh. Then they were decorous and solemn to the verge148 of moroseness149. I should not like to be misunderstood on this point. Sunday is a blessed day, and therefore it should not be made a gloomy one. It is the Lord's day, and I do believe that cheerful hearts and faces are not unpleasant in His sight.
"O day of rest! How beautiful, how fair,
How welcome to the weary and the old!
Day of the Lord, as all our days should be!
Ah, why will man by his austerities
Shut out the blessed sunshine and the light,
(1) About 1850.
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1
urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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3
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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4
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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5
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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6
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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7
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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8
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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9
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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10
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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11
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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12
spoke
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| 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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13
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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14
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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16
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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18
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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19
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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nutter
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| n.疯子 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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26
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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attainments
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| 成就，造诣； 获得( attainment的名词复数 )； 达到； 造诣； 成就 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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32
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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34
tattooed
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| v.刺青，文身( tattoo的过去式和过去分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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35
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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38
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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39
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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40
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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41
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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42
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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43
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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applicants
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| 申请人，求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
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45
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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46
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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47
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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48
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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49
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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50
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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51
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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52
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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53
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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54
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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55
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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56
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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57
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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58
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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59
deranged
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| adj.疯狂的 | |
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60
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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61
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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62
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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63
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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64
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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65
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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66
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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67
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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68
labored
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| 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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69
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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70
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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71
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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72
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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73
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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74
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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75
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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76
migratory
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| n.候鸟，迁移 | |
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77
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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78
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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79
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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80
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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81
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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82
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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83
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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84
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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85
palatable
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| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
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86
conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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87
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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88
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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89
capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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90
pertaining
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| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
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91
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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92
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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93
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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94
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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95
deducting
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| v.扣除，减去( deduct的现在分词 ) | |
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96
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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97
counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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98
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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99
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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100
flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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101
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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102
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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103
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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104
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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105
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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106
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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107
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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108
theatricals
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| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
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109
maelstrom
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| n.大乱动；大漩涡 | |
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110
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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111
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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112
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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113
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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114
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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115
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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116
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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117
avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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118
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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119
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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120
tripe
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| n.废话，肚子, 内脏 | |
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121
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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122
premise
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| n.前提；v.提论，预述 | |
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123
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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124
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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125
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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127
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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128
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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129
robins
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| n.知更鸟，鸫( robin的名词复数 )；（签名者不分先后，以避免受责的）圆形签名抗议书（或请愿书） | |
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130
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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131
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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132
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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133
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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134
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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135
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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137
butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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138
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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139
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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140
tickles
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| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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141
sepulchral
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| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
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142
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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143
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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144
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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145
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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146
hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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147
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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148
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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149
moroseness
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150
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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151
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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