The occupation of being a red man, a merchant of baskets and beadwork, is taken up by so many traders with a brogue and a twang at our watering-places that it is difficult for the traveler to keep alive any sentiment about this race. But at a station beyond Lewiston our tourists were reminded of it, and of its capacity for adopting our civilization in its most efflorescent development. The train was invaded by a band of Indians, or, to speak correctly, by an Indian band. There is nothing in the world like a brass1 band in a country town; it probably gives more pleasure to the performers than any other sort of labor2. Yet the delight it imparts to the listeners is apt to be tempered by a certain sense of incongruity3 between the peaceful citizens who compose it and the bellicose4 din5 they produce. There is a note of barbarism in the brassy jar and clamor of the instruments, enhanced by the bewildering ambition of each player to force through his piece the most noise and jangle, which is not always covered and subdued6 into a harmonious7 whole by the whang of the bass8 drum.
There was nothing of this incongruity between this band of Tuscaroras and their occupation. Unaccustomed to associate the North American Indian with music, the traveler at once sees the natural relation of the Indians with the brass band. These Tuscaroras were stalwart fellows, broad-faced, big-limbed, serious, and they carried themselves with a clumsy but impressive dignity. There was no uniformity in their apparel, yet each one wore some portion of a martial9 and resplendent dress--an ornamented10 kepi, or a scarlet11 sash, or big golden epaulets, or a military coat braided with yellow. The leader, who was a giant, and carried the smallest instrument, outshone all the others in his incongruous splendor12. No sooner had they found seats at one end of the car than they unlimbered, and began through their various reluctant instruments to deploy13 a tune14. Although the tune did not get well into line, the effect was marvelous. The car was instantly filled to bursting. Miss Lamont, who was reading at the other end of the car, gave a nervous start, and looked up in alarm. King and Forbes promptly15 opened windows, but this gave little relief. The trombone pumped and growled16, the trumpet17 blared, the big brass instrument with a calyx like the monstrous18 tropical water-lily quivered and howled, and the drum, banging into the discord19, smashed every tympanum in the car. The Indians looked pleased. No sooner had they broken one tune into fragments than they took up another, and the car roared and rattled20 and jarred all the way to the lonely station where the band debarked, and was last seen convoying a straggling Odd-Fellows' picnic down a country road.
The incident, trivial in itself, gave rise to serious reflections touching21 the capacity and use of the red man in modern life. Here is a peaceful outlet22 for all his wild instincts. Let the government turn all the hostiles on the frontier into brass bands, and we shall hear no more of the Indian question.
The railway along the shore of Lake Ontario is for the most part monotonous23. After leaving the picturesque24 highlands about Lewiston, the country is flat, and although the view over the lovely sheet of blue water is always pleasing, there is something bleak25 even in summer in this vast level expanse from which the timber has been cut away. It may have been mere26 fancy, but to the tourists the air seemed thin, and the scene, artistically27 speaking, was cold and colorless. With every desire to do justice to the pretty town of Oswego, which lies on a gentle slope by the lake, it had to them an out-of-doors, unprotected, remote aspect. Seen from the station, it did not appear what it is, the handsomest city on Lake Ontario, with the largest starch28 factory in the world.
It was towards evening when the train reached Cape29 Vincent, where the steamer waited to transport passengers down the St. Lawrence. The weather had turned cool; the broad river, the low shores, the long islands which here divide its lake-like expanse, wanted atmospheric30 warmth, and the tourists could not escape the feeling of lonesomeness, as if they were on the other side of civilization, rather than in one of the great streams of summer frolic and gayety. It was therefore a very agreeable surprise to them when a traveling party alighted from one of the cars, which had come from Rome, among whom they recognized Mrs. Farquhar.
"I knew my education never could be complete," said that lady as she shook hands, "and you never would consider me perfectly31 in the Union until I had seen the Thousand Islands; and here I am, after many Yankee tribulations32."
"And why didn't you come by Niagara?" asked Miss Lamont.
"My dear, perhaps your uncle could tell you that I saw enough of Niagara when I was a young lady, during the war. The cruelest thing you Yankees did was to force us, who couldn't fight, to go over there for sympathy. The only bearable thing about the fall of Richmond was that it relieved me from that Fall. But where," she added, turning to King, "are the rest of your party?"
"If you mean the Bensons," said he, with a rather rueful countenance33, "I believe they have gone to the White Mountains."
"Oh, not lost, but gone before. You believe? If you knew the nights I have lain awake thinking about you two, or you three! I fear you have not been wide-awake enough yourself."
"I knew I could depend on you, Mrs. Farquhar, for that."
The steamer was moving off, taking a wide sweep to follow the channel. The passengers were all engaged in ascertaining34 the names of the islands and of the owners of the cottages and club-houses. "It is a kind of information I have learned to dispense35 with," said Mrs. Farquhar. And the tourists, except three or four resolutely36 inquisitive37, soon tired of it. The islands multiplied; the boat wound in and out among them in narrow straits. To sail thus amid rocky islets, hirsute38 with firs, promised to be an unfailing pleasure. It might have been, if darkness had not speedily fallen. But it is notable how soon passengers on a steamer become indifferent and listless in any sort of scenery. Where the scenery is monotonous and repeats itself mile after mile and hour after hour, an intolerable weariness falls upon the company. The enterprising group who have taken all the best seats in the bow, with the intention of gormandizing the views, exhibit little staying power; either the monotony or the wind drives them into the cabin. And passengers in the cabin occupying chairs and sofas, surrounded by their baggage, always look bored and melancholy39.
"I always think," said Mrs. Farquhar, "that I am going to enjoy a ride on a steamer, but I never do. It is impossible to get out of a draught40, and the progress is so slow that variety enough is not presented to the eye to keep one from ennui41." Nevertheless, Mrs. Farquhar and King remained on deck, in such shelter as they could find, during the three hours' sail, braced42 up by the consciousness that they were doing their duty in regard to the enterprise that has transformed this lovely stream into a highway of display and enjoyment43. Miss Lamont and the artist went below, frankly44 confessing that they could see all that interested them from the cabin windows. And they had their reward; for in this little cabin, where supper was served, a drama was going on between the cook and the two waiting-maids and the cabin boy, a drama of love and coquetry and jealousy45 and hope deferred46, quite as important to those concerned as any of the watering-place comedies, and played with entire unconsciousness of the spectators.
The evening was dark, and the navigation in the tortuous47 channels sometimes difficult, and might have been dangerous but for the lighthouses. The steamer crept along in the shadows of the low islands, making frequent landings, and never long out of sight of the illuminations of hotels and cottages. Possibly by reason of these illuminations this passage has more variety by night than by day. There was certainly a fascination48 about this alternating brilliancy and gloom. On nearly every island there was at least a cottage, and on the larger islands were great hotels, camp-meeting establishments, and houses and tents for the entertainment of thousands of people. Late as it was in the season, most of the temporary villages and solitary49 lodges50 were illuminated52; colored lamps were set about the grounds, Chinese lanterns hung in the evergreens54, and on half a dozen lines radiating from the belfry of the hotel to the ground, while all the windows blazed and scintillated55. Occasionally as the steamer passed these places of irrepressible gayety rockets were let off, Bengal-lights were burned, and once a cannon56 attempted to speak the joy of the sojourners. It was like a continued Fourth of July, and King's heart burned within him with national pride. Even Mrs. Farquhar had to admit that it was a fairy spectacle. During the months of July and August this broad river, with its fantastic islands, is at night simply a highway of glory. The worldlings and the camp-meeting gatherings57 vie with each other in the display of colored lights and fireworks. And such places as the Thousand Islands Park, Wellesley and Wesley parks, and so on, twinkling with lamps and rosy58 with pyrotechnics, like sections of the sky dropped upon the earth, create in the mind of the steamer pilgrim an indescribable earthly and heavenly excitement. He does not look upon these displays as advertisements of rival resorts, but as generous contributions to the hilarity59 of the world.
It is, indeed, a marvelous spectacle, this view for thirty or forty miles, and the simple traveler begins to realize what American enterprise is when it lays itself out for pleasure. These miles and miles of cottages, hotels, parks, and camp-meetings are the creation of only a few years, and probably can scarcely be paralleled elsewhere in the world for rapidity of growth. But the strongest impression the traveler has is of the public spirit of these summer sojourners, speculators, and religious enthusiasts60. No man lives to himself alone, or builds his cottage for his selfish gratification. He makes fantastic carpentry, and paints and decorates and illuminates61 and shows fireworks, for the genuine sake of display. One marvels62 that a person should come here for rest and pleasure in a spirit of such devotion to the public weal, and devote himself night after night for months to illuminating63 his house and lighting64 up his island, and tearing open the sky with rockets and shaking the air with powder explosions, in order that the river may be continually en fete.
At half-past eight the steamer rounded into view of the hotels and cottages at Alexandria Bay, and the enchanting65 scene drew all the passengers to the deck.
The Thousand Islands Hotel, and the Crossman House, where our party found excellent accommodations, were blazing and sparkling like the spectacular palaces in an opera scene. Rows of colored lamps were set thickly along the shore, and disposed everywhere among the rocks on which the Crossman House stands; lights glistened66 from all the islands, from a thousand row-boats, and in all the windows. It was very like Venice, seen from the lagoon67, when the Italians make a gala-night.
If Alexandria Bay was less enchanting as a spectacle by daylight, it was still exceedingly lovely and picturesque; islands and bays and winding68 waterways could not be better combined for beauty, and the structures that taste or ambition has raised on the islands or rocky points are well enough in keeping with the general holiday aspect. One of the prettiest of these cottages is the Bonnicastle of the late Dr. Holland, whose spirit more or less pervades69 this region. It is charmingly situated70 on a projecting point of gray rocks veined with color, enlivened by touches of scarlet bushes and brilliant flowers planted in little spots of soil, contrasting with the evergreen53 shrubs71. It commands a varied72 and delicious prospect73, and has an air of repose74 and peace.
I am sorry to say that while Forbes and Miss Lamont floated, so to speak, in all this beauty, like the light-hearted revelers they were, King was scarcely in a mood to enjoy it. It seemed to him fictitious75 and a little forced. There was no message for him at the Crossman House. His restlessness and absentmindedness could not escape the observation of Mrs. Farquhar, and as the poor fellow sadly needed a confidante, she was soon in possession of his story.
"I hate slang," she said, when he had painted the situation black enough to suit Mrs. Bartlett Glow even, "and I will not give my sex away, but I know something of feminine doubtings and subterfuges76, and I give you my judgment77 that Irene is just fretting78 herself to death, and praying that you may have the spirit to ride rough-shod over her scruples79. Yes, it is just as true in this prosaic80 time as it ever was, that women like to be carried off by violence. In their secret hearts, whatever they may say, they like to see a knight81 batter82 down the tower and put all the garrison83 except themselves to the sword. I know that I ought to be on Mrs. Glow's side. It is the sensible side, the prudent84 side; but I do admire recklessness in love. Probably you'll be uncomfortable, perhaps unhappy--you are certain to be if you marry to please society and not yourself--but better a thousand times one wild rush of real passion, of self-forgetting love, than an age of stupid, conventional affection approved by your aunt. Oh, these calculating young people!" Mrs. Farquhar's voice trembled and her eyes flashed. "I tell you, my friend, life is not worth living in a conventional stagnation85. You see in society how nature revenges itself when its instincts are repressed."
Mrs. Farquhar turned away, and King saw that her eyes were full of tears. She stood a moment looking away over the sparkling water to the soft islands on the hazy86 horizon. Was she thinking of her own marriage? Death had years ago dissolved it, and were these tears, not those of mourning, but for the great experience possible in life, so seldom realized, missed forever? Before King could frame, in the tumult87 of his own thoughts, any reply, she turned towards him again, with her usual smile, half of badinage88 and half of tenderness, and said:
"Come, this is enough of tragedy for one day; let us go on the Island Wanderer, with the other excursionists, among the isles89 of the blest."
The little steamer had already its load, and presently was under way, puffing90 and coughing, on its usual afternoon trip among the islands. The passengers were silent, and appeared to take the matter seriously--a sort of linen-duster congregation, of the class who figure in the homely91 dialect poems of the Northern bards92, Mrs. Farquhar said. They were chiefly interested in knowing the names of the successful people who had built these fantastic dwellings93, and who lived on illuminations. Their curiosity was easily gratified, for in most cases the owners had painted their names, and sometimes their places of residence, in staring white letters on conspicuous94 rocks. There was also exhibited, for the benefit of invalids95, by means of the same white paint, here and there the name of a medicine that is a household word in this patent-right generation. So the little steamer sailed, comforted by these remedies, through the strait of Safe Nervine, round the bluff96 of Safe Tonic97, into the open bay of Safe Liver Cure. It was a healing voyage, and one in which enterprise was so allied98 with beauty that no utilitarian99 philosopher could raise a question as to the market value of the latter.
The voyage continued as far as Gananoque, in Canada, where the passengers went ashore100, and wandered about in a disconsolate101 way to see nothing. King said, however, that he was more interested in the place than in any other he had seen, because there was nothing interesting in it; it was absolutely without character, or a single peculiarity102 either of Canada or of the United States. Indeed, this north shore seemed to all the party rather bleak even in summertime, and the quality of the sunshine thin.
It was, of course, a delightful103 sail, abounding104 in charming views, up "lost channels," through vistas105 of gleaming water overdrooped by tender foliage106, and now and then great stretches of sea, and always islands, islands.
"Too many islands too much alike," at length exclaimed Mrs. Farquhar, "and too many tasteless cottages and temporary camping structures."
The performance is, indeed, better than the prospectus107. For there are not merely the poetical108 Thousand Islands; by actual count there are sixteen hundred and ninety-two. The artist and Miss Lamont were trying to sing a fine song they discovered in the Traveler's Guide, inspired perhaps by that sentimental109 ditty, "The Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece," beginning,
"O Thousand Isles! O Thousand Isles!"
It seemed to King that a poem might be constructed more in accordance with the facts and with the scientific spirit of the age. Something like this:
"O Sixteen Hundred Ninety-two Isles!
O Islands 1692!
Where the fisher spreads his wiles110,
And the muskallonge goes through!
Forever the cottager gilds111 the same
With nightly pyrotechnic flame;
And it's O the Isles!
The 1692!"
Aside from the pyrotechnics, the chief occupations of this place are boating and fishing. Boats abound--row-boats, sail-boats, and steam-launches for excursion parties. The river consequently presents an animated112 appearance in the season, and the prettiest effects are produced by the white sails dipping about among the green islands. The favorite boat is a canoe with a small sail stepped forward, which is steered113 without centre-board or rudder, merely by a change of position in the boat of the man who holds the sheet. While the fishermen are here, it would seem that the long, snaky pickerel is the chief game pursued and caught. But this is not the case when the fishermen return home, for then it appears that they have been dealing114 mainly with muskallonge, and with bass by the way. No other part of the country originates so many excellent fish stories as the Sixteen Hundred and Ninety-two Islands, and King had heard so many of them that he suspected there must be fish in these waters. That afternoon, when they returned from Gananoque he accosted115 an old fisherman who sat in his boat at the wharf116 awaiting a customer.
"I suppose there is fishing here in the season?"
The man glanced up, but deigned117 no reply to such impertinence.
"Could you take us where we would be likely to get any muskallonge?"
"Likely?" asked the man. "What do you suppose I am here for?"
"I beg your pardon. I'm a stranger here. I'd like to try my hand at a muskallonge. About how do they run here as to size?"
"Well," said the fisherman, relenting a little, "that depends upon who takes you out. If you want a little sport, I can take you to it. They are running pretty well this season, or were a week ago."
"Is it too late?"
"Well, they are scarcer than they were, unless you know where to go. I call forty pounds light for a muskallonge; fifty to seventy is about my figure. If you ain't used to this kind of fishing, and go with me, you'd better tie yourself in the boat. They are a powerful fish. You see that little island yonder? A muskallonge dragged me in this boat four times round that island one day, and just as I thought I was tiring him out he jumped clean over the island, and I had to cut the line."
King thought he had heard something like this before, and he engaged the man for the next day. That evening was the last of the grand illuminations for the season, and our party went out in the Crossman steam-launch to see it. Although some of the cottages were vacated, and the display was not so extensive as in August, it was still marvelously beautiful, and the night voyage around the illuminated islands was something long to be remembered.
There were endless devices of colored lamps and lanterns, figures of crosses, crowns, the Seal of Solomon, and the most strange effects produced on foliage and in the water by red and green and purple fires. It was a night of enchantment118, and the hotel and its grounds on the dark background of the night were like the stately pleasure-house in "Kubla Khan."
But the season was drawing to an end. The hotels, which could not find room for the throngs119 on Saturday night, say, were nearly empty on Monday, so easy are pleasure-seekers frightened away by a touch of cold, forgetting that in such a resort the most enjoyable part of the year comes with the mellow120 autumn days. That night at ten o'clock the band was scraping away in the deserted121 parlor122, with not another person in attendance, without a single listener. Miss Lamont happened to peep through the window-blinds from the piazza123 and discover this residuum of gayety. The band itself was half asleep, but by sheer force of habit it kept on, the fiddlers drawing the perfunctory bows, and the melancholy clarionet men breathing their expressive124 sighs. It was a dismal125 sight. The next morning the band had vanished.
The morning was lowering, and a steady rain soon set in for the day. No fishing, no boating; nothing but drop, drop, and the reminiscence of past pleasure. Mist enveloped126 the islands and shut out the view. Even the spirits of Mrs. Farquhar were not proof against this, and she tried to amuse herself by reconstructing the season out of the specimens127 of guests who remained, who were for the most part young ladies who had duty written on their faces, and were addicted128 to spectacles.
"It could not have been," she thought, "ultrafashionable or madly gay. I think the good people come here; those who are willing to illuminate51."
"Oh, there is a fast enough life at some of the hotels in the summer," said the artist.
"Very likely. Still, if I were recruiting for schoolmarms, I should come here. I like it thoroughly129, and mean to be here earlier next year. The scenery is enchanting, and I quite enjoy being with 'Proverbial Philosophy' people."
Late in the gloomy afternoon King went down to the office, and the clerk handed him a letter. He took it eagerly, but his countenance fell when he saw that it bore a New York postmark, and had been forwarded from Richfield. It was not from Irene. He put it in his pocket and went moodily130 to his room. He was in no mood to read a homily from his uncle.
Ten minutes after, he burst into Forbes's room with the open letter in his hand.
"See here, old fellow, I'm off to the Profile House. Can you get ready?"
"Get ready? Why, you can't go anywhere tonight."
"Yes I can. The proprietor131 says he will send us across to Redwood to catch the night train for Ogdensburg."
"But how about the Lachine Rapids? You have been talking about those rapids for two months. I thought that was what we came here for."
"Do you want to run right into the smallpox132 at Montreal?"
"Oh, I don't mind. I never take anything of that sort."
"But don't you see that it isn't safe for the Lamonts and Mrs. Farquhar to go there?"
"I suppose not; I never thought of that. You have dragged me all over the continent, and I didn't suppose there was any way of escaping the rapids. But what is the row now? Has Irene telegraphed you that she has got over her chill?"
"Read that letter."
Forbes took the sheet and read:
"NEW YORK, September 2, 1885.
"MY DEAR STANHOPE,--We came back to town yesterday, and I find a considerable arrears133 of business demanding my attention. A suit has been brought against the Lavalle Iron Company, of which I have been the attorney for some years, for the possession of an important part of its territory, and I must send somebody to Georgia before the end of this month to look up witnesses and get ready for the defense134. If you are through your junketing by that time, it will be an admirable opportunity for you to learn the practical details of the business.... Perhaps it may quicken your ardor135 in the matter if I communicate to you another fact. Penelope wrote me from Richfield, in a sort of panic, that she feared you had compromised your whole future by a rash engagement with a young lady from Cyrusville, Ohio--a Miss Benson-and she asked me to use my influence with you. I replied to her that I thought that, in the language of the street, you had compromised your future, if that were true, for about a hundred cents on the dollar. I have had business relations with Mr. Benson for twenty years. He is the principal owner in the Lavalle Iron Mine, and he is one of the most sensible, sound, and upright men of my acquaintance. He comes of a good old New England stock, and if his daughter has the qualities of her father and I hear that she has been exceedingly well educated besides she is not a bad match even for a Knickerbocker.
"Hoping that you will be able to report at the office before the end of the month,
"I am affectionately yours,
"SCHUYLER BREVOORT."
"Well, that's all right," said the artist, after a pause. "I suppose the world might go on if you spend another night in this hotel. But if you must go, I'll bring on the women and the baggage when navigation opens in the morning."
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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bellicose
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| adj.好战的；好争吵的 | |
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din
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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splendor
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deploy
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| v.（军）散开成战斗队形，布置，展开 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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trumpet
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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discord
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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monotonous
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picturesque
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bleak
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mere
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artistically
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starch
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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atmospheric
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perfectly
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tribulations
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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ascertaining
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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36
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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37
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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38
hirsute
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| adj.多毛的 | |
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39
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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40
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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41
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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42
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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43
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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44
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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45
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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46
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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47
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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48
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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49
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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50
lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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51
illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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52
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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53
evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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54
evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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55
scintillated
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| v.（言谈举止中）焕发才智( scintillate的过去式和过去分词 )；谈笑洒脱；闪耀；闪烁 | |
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56
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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57
gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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58
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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59
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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60
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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61
illuminates
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| v.使明亮( illuminate的第三人称单数 )；照亮；装饰；说明 | |
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62
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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63
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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64
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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65
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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66
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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68
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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69
pervades
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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70
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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71
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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72
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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73
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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74
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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75
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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76
subterfuges
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| n.（用说谎或欺骗以逃脱责备、困难等的）花招，遁词( subterfuge的名词复数 ) | |
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77
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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78
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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79
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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80
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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81
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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82
batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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83
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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84
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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85
stagnation
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| n. 停滞 | |
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86
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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87
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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88
badinage
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| n.开玩笑，打趣 | |
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89
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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90
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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91
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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92
bards
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| n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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93
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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94
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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95
invalids
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| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
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96
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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97
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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98
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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99
utilitarian
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| adj.实用的，功利的 | |
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100
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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101
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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102
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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103
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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104
abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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105
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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106
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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107
prospectus
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| n.计划书；说明书；慕股书 | |
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108
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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109
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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110
wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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111
gilds
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| 把…镀金( gild的第三人称单数 )； 给…上金色； 作多余的修饰（反而破坏原已完美的东西）； 画蛇添足 | |
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112
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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113
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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114
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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115
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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116
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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117
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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119
throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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120
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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121
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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122
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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123
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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124
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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125
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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126
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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128
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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129
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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130
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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131
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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132
smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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133
arrears
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| n.到期未付之债，拖欠的款项；待做的工作 | |
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134
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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135
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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