In which Gillie is Sagacious, an Excursion is undertaken, Wondrous1 Sights are seen, and Avalanches2 of more kinds than one are encountered.
“Susan,” said Gillie, one morning, entering the private apartment of Mrs Stoutley’s maid with the confidence of a privileged friend, flinging himself languidly into a chair and stretching out his little legs with the air of a rather used-up, though by no means discontented, man, “Susan, this is a coorious world—wery coorious—the most coorious I may say that I ever come across.”
“I won’t speak a word to you, Gillie,” said Susan, firmly, “unless you throw that cigar out of the window.”
“Ah, Susan, you would not rob me of my mornin’ weed, would you?” remonstrated5 Gillie, puffing6 a long cloud of smoke from his lips as he took from between them the end of a cigar that had been thrown away by some one the night before.
“Yes, I would, child, you are too young to smoke.”
“Child!” repeated Gillie, in a tone of reproach, “too young! Why, Susan, there’s only two years between you an’ me—that ain’t much, you know, at our time of life.”
“Well, what then? I don’t smoke,” said Susan.
“True,” returned Gillie, with an approving nod, “and, to say truth, I’m pleased to find that you don’t. It’s a nasty habit in women.”
“It’s an equally nasty habit in boys. Now, do as I bid you directly.”
“When a man is told by the girl he loves to do anythink, he is bound to do it—even if it wor the sheddin’ of his blood. Susan, your word is law.”
He turned and tossed the cigar-end out of the window. Susan laughingly stooped, kissed the urchin7’s forehead, and called him a good boy.
“Now,” said she, “what do you mean by sayin’ that this is a curious world? Do you refer to this part of it, or to the whole of it?”
“Well, for the matter of that,” replied Gillie, crossing his legs, and folding his hands over his knee, as he looked gravely up in Susan’s pretty face, “I means the whole of it, this part included, and the people in it likewise. Don’t suppose that I go for to exclude myself. We’re all coorious, every one on us.”
“What! me too?”
“You? w’y, you are the cooriousest of us all, Susan, seeing that you’re only a lady’s-maid when you’re pretty enough to have been a lady—a dutchess, in fact, or somethin’ o’ that sort.”
“You are an impudent9 little thing,” retorted Susan, with a laugh; “but tell me, what do you find so curious about the people up-stairs?”
“Why, for one thing, they seem all to have falled in love.”
“That’s not very curious is it?” said Susan, quietly; “it’s common enough, anyhow.”
“Ah, some kinds of it, yes,” returned Gillie, with the air of a philosopher, “but at Chamouni the disease appears to have become viroolent an’ pecoolier. There’s the Capp’n, he’s falled in love wi’ the Professor, an’ it seems to me that the attachment11 is mootooal. Then Mister Lewis has falled in love with Madmysell Nita Hooray-tskie (that’s a sneezer, ain’t it), an’ the mad artist, as Mister Lewis call him, has falled in love with her too, poor feller, an’ Miss Nita has falled in love with Miss Emma, an Miss Emma, besides reciprocatin’ that passion, has falled in love with the flowers and the scenery—gone in for it wholesale12, so to speak—and Dr Lawrence, he seems to have falled in love with everybody all round; anyhow everybody has falled in love with him, for he’s continually goin’ about doin’ little good turns wherever he gits the chance, without seemin’ to intend it, or shovin’ hisself to the front. In fact I do think he don’t intend it, but only can’t help it; just the way he used to be to my old mother and the rest of us in Grubb’s Court. And I say, Susan,” here Gillie looked very mysterious, and dropped his voice to a whisper, “Miss Emma has falled in love with him.”
“Nonsense, child! how is it possible that you can tell that?” said Susan.
The boy nodded his head with a look of preternatural wisdom, and put his forefinger13 to the side of his nose.
“Ah,” said he, “yes, I can’t explain how it is that I knows it, but I do know it. Bless you, Susan, I can see through a four-inch plank14 in thick weather without the aid of a gimlet hole. You may believe it or not, but I know that Miss Emma has falled in love with Dr Lawrence, but whether Dr Lawrence has failed in love with Miss Emma is more than I can tell. That plank is at least a six-inch one, an’ too much for my wision. But have a care, Susan, don’t mention wot I’ve said to a single soul—livin’ or dead. Miss Emma is a modest young woman, she is, an’ would rather eat her fingers off, rings and all, than let her feelin’s be known. I see that ’cause she fights shy o’ Dr Lawrence, rather too shy of ’im, I fear, for secrecy15. Why he doesn’t make up to her is a puzzle that I don’t understand, for she’d make a good wife, would Miss Emma, an’ Dr Lawrence may live to repent16 of it, if he don’t go in and win.”
Susan looked with mingled17 surprise and indignation at the precocious18 little creature who sat before her giving vent19 to his opinions as coolly as if he were a middle-aged20 man. After contemplating21 him for a few moments in silence, she expressed her belief that he was a conceited22 little imp10, to venture to speak of his young mistress in that way.
“I wouldn’t do it to any one but yourself, Susan,” he said, in no wise abashed23, “an’ I hope you appreciate my confidence.”
“Don’t talk such nonsense, child, but go on with what you were speaking about,” rejoined Susan, with a smile, to conceal24 which she bent25 down her head as she plied8 her needle briskly on one of Emma’s mountain-torn dresses.
“Well, where was I?” continued Gillie, “ah, yes. Then, Lord what’s-’is-name, he’s falled in love with the mountain-tops, an’ is for ever tryin’ to get at ’em, in which he would succeed, for he’s a plucky26 young feller, if it worn’t for that snob—who’s got charge of ’im—Mister Lumbard—whose pecooliarity lies in preferrin’ every wrong road to the right one. As I heard Mr Lewis say the other day, w’en I chanced to be passin’ the keyhole of the sallymanjay, ‘he’d raither go up to the roof of a ’ouse by the waterspout than the staircase,’ just for the sake of boastin’ of it.”
“And is Mr Lumbard in love with any one?” asked Susan.
“Of course he is,” answered Gillie, “he’s in love with hisself. He’s always talkin’ of hisself, an’ praisin’ hisself, an’ boastin’ of hisself an’ what he’s done and agoin’ to do. He’s plucky enough, no doubt, and if there wor a lightnin’-conductor runnin’ to top of Mount Blang, I do b’lieve he’d try to—to—lead his Lordship up that; but he’s too fond of talkin’ an’ swaggerin’ about with his big axe27, an’ wearin’ a coil of rope on his shoulder when he ain’t goin’ nowhere. Bah! I don’t like him. What do you think, Susan, I met him on the road the other evenin’ w’en takin’ a stroll by myself down near the Glassyer day Bossong, an’ I says to him, quite in a friendly way, ‘bong joor,’ says I, which is French, you know, an’ what the natives here says when they’re in good humour an’ want to say ‘good-day,’ ‘all serene28,’ ‘how are you off for soap?’ an’ suchlike purlitenesses. Well, would you believe it, he went past without takin’ no notice of me whatsumdever.”
“How very impolite,” said Susan, “and what did you do?”
“Do,” cried Gillie, drawing himself up, “why, I cocked my nose in the air and walked on without disdainin’ to say another word—treated ’im with suvrin contempt. But enough of him—an’ more than enough. Well, to continue, then there’s Missis Stoutley, she’s falled in love too.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, with wittles. The Count Hur—what’s-’is-name, who’s always doin’ the purlite when he’s not mopin’, says it’s the mountain hair as is agreein’ with her, but I think its the hair-soup. Anyhow she’s more friendly with her wittles here than she ever was in England. After comin’ in from that excursion where them two stout4 fellers carried her up the mountains, an’ all but capsized her and themselves, incloodin’ the chair, down a precipice29, while passin’ a string o’ mules30 on a track no broader than the brim of Mister Slingsby’s wide-awake, she took to her wittles with a sort of lovin’ awidity that an’t describable. The way she shovelled31 in the soup, an’ stowed away the mutton chops, an’ pitched into the pease and taters, to say nothing of cauliflower and cutlets, was a caution to the billions. It made my mouth water to look at her, an’ my eyes too—only that may have had somethin’ to do with the keyhole, for them ’otels of Chamouni are oncommon draughty. Yes,” continued Gillie, slowly, as if he were musing32, “she’s failed in love with wittles, an’ it’s by no means a misplaced affection. It would be well for the Count if he could fall in the same direction. Did you ever look steadily33 at the Count, Susan?”
“I can’t say I ever did; at least not more so than at other people. Why?”
“Because, if you ever do look at him steadily, you’ll see care a-sittin’ wery heavy on his long yeller face. There’s somethin’ the matter with that Count, either in ’is head or ’is stummick, I ain’t sure which; but, whichever it is, it has descended34 to his darter, for that gal35’s face is too anxious by half for such a young and pretty one. I have quite a sympathy, a sort o’ feller-feelin’, for that Count. He seems to me the wictim of a secret sorrow.”
Susan looked at her small admirer with surprise, and then burst into a hearty36 laugh.
“You’re a queer boy, Gillie.”
To an unsophisticated country girl like Susan Quick, the London street-boy must indeed have seemed a remarkable37 being. He was not indeed an absolute “Arab,” being the son of an honest hardworking mother, but being also the son of a drunken, ill-doing father, he had, in the course of an extensive experience of bringing his paternal38 parent home from gin-palaces and low theatres, imbibed39 a good deal of the superficial part of the “waif” character, and, but for the powerful and benign40 influence of his mother, might have long ago entered the ranks of our criminal population. As it was, he had acquired a knowledge of “the world” of London—its thoughts, feelings, and manners—which rendered him in Susan’s eyes a perfect miracle of intelligence; and she listened to his drolleries and precocious wisdom with open-mouthed admiration41. Of course the urchin was quite aware of this, and plumed42 himself not a little on his powers of attraction.
“Yes,” continued Gillie, without remarking on Susan’s observation that he was a “queer boy,” for he esteemed43 that a compliment “the Count is the only man among ’em who hasn’t falled in love with nothink or nobody. But tell me, Susan, is your fair buzzum free from the—the tender—you know what?”
“Oh! yes,” laughed the maid, “quite free.”
“Ah!” said Gillie, with a sigh of satisfaction, “then there’s hope for me.”
“Of course there is plenty of hope,” said Susan, laughing still more heartily44 as she looked at the thing in blue and buttons which thus addressed her.
“But now, tell me, where are they talking of going to-day?”
“To the Jardang,” replied Gillie. “It was putt off to please the young ladies t’other day, and now it’s putt on to please the Professor. It seems to me that the Professor has got well to wind’ard of ’em all—as the Cappen would say; he can twirl the whole bilin’ of ’em round his little finger with his outlandish talk, which I believe is more than half nonsense. Hows’ever, he’s goin’ to take ’em all to the Jardang, to lunch there, an’ make some more obserwations and measurements of the ice. Why he takes so much trouble about sitch a trifle, beats my understandin’. If the ice is six feet, or six hundred feet thick, what then? If it moves, or if it don’t move, wot’s the odds45, so long as yer ’appy? If it won’t move, w’y don’t they send for a company of London bobbies and make ’em tell it to ‘move on,’ it couldn’t refuse, you know, for nothin’ can resist that. Hows’ever, they are all goin’ to foller the lead of the Professor again to-day—them that was with ’em last time—not the Count though, for I heard him say (much to the distress46 apperiently of his darter) that he was goin’ on business to Marteeny, over the Tait Nwar, though what that is I don’t know—a mountain, I suppose. They’re all keen for goin’ over things in this country, an’ some of ’em goes under altogether in the doin’ of it. If I ain’t mistaken, that pleasant fate awaits Lord what’s-’is-name an’ Mr Lumbard, for I heard the Cappen sayin’, just afore I come to see you, that he was goin’ to take his Lordship to the main truck of Mount Blang by way of the signal halliards, in preference to the regular road.”
“Are the young ladies going?” asked Susan.
“Of course they are, from w’ich it follers that Mr Lewis an’ the mad artist are goin’ too.”
“And Mrs Stoutley?” asked Susan.
“No; it’s much too far and difficult for her.”
“Gillie, Gillie!” shouted a stentorian47 voice at this point in the conversation.
“Ay, ay, Cappen,” yelled Gillie, in reply. Rising and thrusting his hands into his pockets, he sauntered leisurely48 from the room, recommending the Captain, in an undertone, to save his wind for the mountainside.
Not long afterwards, the same parties that had accompanied the Professor to the Montanvert were toiling49 up the Mer de Glace, at a considerable distance above the scene of their former exploits, on their way to the Jardin.
The day was all that could be desired. There were a few clouds, but these were light and feathery; clear blue predominated all over the sky. Over the masses of the Jorasses and the peaks of the Géant, the Aiguille du Dru, the slopes of Mont Mallet50, the pinnacles51 of Charmoz, and the rounded white summit of Mont Blanc—everywhere—the heavens were serene and beautiful.
The Jardin, towards which they ascended52, lies like an island in the midst of the Glacier53 du Talèfre. It is a favourite expedition of travellers, being a verdant54 gem55 on a field of white—a true oasis56 in the desert of ice and snow—and within a five hours’ walk of Chamouni.
Their route lay partly on the moraines and partly over the surface of the glacier. On their previous visit to the Mer de Glace, those of the party to whom the sight was new imagined that they had seen all the wonders of the glacier world. They were soon undeceived. While at the Montanvert on their first excursion, they could turn their eyes from the sea of ice to the tree-clad slopes behind them, and at the Chapeau could gaze on a splendid stretch of the Vale of Chamouni to refresh their eyes when wearied with the rugged57 cataract58 of the Glacier des Bois; but as they advanced slowly up into the icy solitudes59, all traces of the softer world were lost to view. Only ice and snow lay around them. Ice under foot, ice on the cliffs, ice in the mountain valleys, ice in the higher gorges60, and snow on the summits,—except where these latter were so sharp and steep that snow could not find a lodgment. There was nothing in all the field of vision to remind them of the vegetable world from which they had passed as if by magic. As Lewis remarked, they seemed to have been suddenly transported to within the Arctic circle, and got lost among the ice-mountains of Spitzbergen or Nova Zembla.
“It is magnificent!” exclaimed Nita Horetzki with enthusiasm, as she paused on the summit of an ice-ridge, up the slippery sides of which she had been assisted by Antoine Grennon, who still held her little hand in his.
Ah, thoughtless man! he little knew what daggers62 of envy were lacerating the heart of the mad artist who would have given all that he possessed—colour-box and camp-stool included—to have been allowed to hold that little hand even for a few seconds! Indeed he had, in a fit of desperation, offered to aid her by taking the other hand when half-way up that very slope, but had slipped at the moment of making the offer and rolled to the bottom. Lewis, seeing the fate of his rival, wisely refrained from putting himself in a false position by offering any assistance, excusing his apparent want of gallantry by remarking that if he were doomed63 to slip into a crevasse64 he should prefer not to drag another along with him. Antoine, therefore, had the little hand all to himself.
The Professor, being a somewhat experienced ice-man, assisted Emma in all cases of difficulty. As for the Captain, Gillie, and Lawrence, they had quite enough to do to look after themselves.
“How different from what I had expected,” said Emma, resting a hand on the shoulder of Nita; “it is a very landscape of ice.”
Emma’s simile65 was not far-fetched. They had reached a part of the glacier where the slope and the configuration66 of the valley had caused severe strains on the ice in various directions, so that there were not only transverse crevasses67 but longitudinal cracks, which unitedly had cut up the ice into blocks of all shapes and sizes. These, as their position shifted, had become isolated68, more or less,—and being partially69 melted by the sun, had assumed all sorts of fantastic shapes. There were ice-bridges, ice-caves, and ice obelisks70 and spires71, some of which latter towered to a height of fifty feet or more; there were also forms suggestive of cottages and trees, with here and there real rivulets72 rippling73 down their icy beds, or leaping over pale blue ledges74, or gliding75 into blue-green lakes, or plunging76 into black-blue chasms77. The sun-light playing among these silvery realms—glinting over edges and peaks, blazing on broad masses, shimmering78 through semi-transparent cliffs, and casting soft grey shadows everywhere—was inexpressibly beautiful, while the whole, looming79 through a thin golden haze80, seemed to be of gigantic proportions.
It seemed as if the region of ice around them must at one time have been in tremendous convulsions, but the Professor assured them that this was not the case, that the formation of crevasses and those confused heaps of ice called seracs was a slow and prolonged process. “Doubtless,” he said, “you have here and there the wild rush of avalanches, and suchlike convulsions, but the rupture81 of the great body of the ice is gradual. A crevasse is an almost invisible crack at first. It yawns slowly and takes a long time to open out to the dimensions and confusion which you see around.”
“What are those curious things?” asked Nita, pointing to some forms before her.
“They look like giant mushrooms,” said Captain Wopper.
“They are ice-tables,” answered Antoine.
“Blocks of stone on the top of cones82 of ice,” said the Professor. “Come, we will go near and examine one.”
The object in question was well suited to cause surprise, for it was found to be an enormous flat mass of rock, many tons in weight, perched on a pillar of ice and bearing some resemblance to a table with a central leg.
“Now,” said Captain Wopper emphatically, “that is a puzzler. How did it ever get up there?”
“I have read of such tables,” said Lawrence.
“They are the result of the sun’s action, I believe.”
“Oh, it’s all very well, Lawrence,” said Lewis, with a touch of sarcasm83, “to talk in a vague way about the sun’s action, but it’s quite plain, even to an unphilosophical mind like mine, that the sun can’t lift a block of stone some tons in weight and clap it on the top of a pillar of ice about ten feet high.”
“Nevertheless the sun has done it,” returned Lawrence. “Am I not right Professor?”
The man of science, who had listened with a bland85 smile on his broad countenance86, admitted that Lawrence was right.
“At first,” he said, “that big stone fell from the cliffs higher up the valley, and it has now been carried down thus far by the ice. During its progress the sun has been shining day by day and melting the surface of the ice all round, with the exception of that part which was covered by the rock. Thus the general level of the ice has been lowered and the protected portion left prominent with its protector on the top. The sides of the block of ice on which the rock has rested have also melted slowly, reducing it to the stalk or pillar which you now see. In time it will melt so much that the rock will slide off, fall on another part of the ice, which it will protect from the sun as before until another stem shall support it, and thus it will go on until it tumbles into a crevasse, reaches the under part of the glacier, perhaps there gets rolled and rounded into a boulder87, and finally is discharged, many years hence, it may be, into the terminal moraine; or, perchance, it may get stranded88 on the sides of the valley among the débris or rubbish which we call the lateral89 moraine.”
As the party advanced, new, and, if possible; still more striking objects met the eye, while mysterious sounds struck the ear. Low grumbling90 noises and gurglings were heard underfoot, as if great boulders91 were dropping into buried lakes from the roofs of sub-glacial caverns92, while, on the surface, the glacier was strewn here and there with débris which had fallen from steep parts of the mountains that rose beside them into the clouds. Sudden rushing sounds—as if of short-lived squalls, in the midst of which were crashes like the thunder of distant artillery—began now to attract attention, and a feeling of awe93 crept into the hearts of those of the party who were strangers to the ice-world. Sounds of unseen avalanches, muffled94 more or less according to distance, were mingled with what may be called the shots of the boulders, which fell almost every five minutes from the Aiguille Verte and other mountains, and there was something deeply impressive in the solemn echoes that followed each deep-toned growl95, and were repeated until they died out in soft murmurs96.
As the party crossed an ice-plain, whose surface was thickly strewn with the wreck97 of mountains, a sense of insecurity crept into the feelings of more than one member of it but not a word was said until a sudden and tremendous crash, followed by a continuous roar, was heard close at hand.
“An avalanche3!” shouted Slingsby, pointing upwards98, and turning back with the evident intention to fly.
It did indeed seem the wisest thing that man or woman could do in the circumstances, for, high up among the wild cliffs, huge masses of rock, mingled with ice, dirt, water, and snow, were seen rushing down a “couloir,” or steep gully, straight towards them.
“Rest tranquil99 where you are,” said the guide, laying his hand on the artist’s arm; “the couloir takes a bend, you see, near the bottom. There is no danger.”
Thus assured, the whole of the party stood still and gazed upward.
Owing to the great height from which the descending100 mass was pouring, the inexperienced were deceived as to the dimensions of the avalanche. It seemed at first as if the boulders were too small to account for the sounds created, but in a few seconds their real proportions became more apparent, especially when the whole rush came straight towards the spot on which the travellers stood with such an aspect of being fraught101 with inevitable102 destruction, that all of them except the guide shrank involuntarily backwards103. At this crisis the chaotic104 mass was driven with terrible violence against the cliffs to the left of the couloir, and bounding, we might almost say fiercely, to the right, rushed out upon the frozen plain about two hundred yards in advance of the spot on which they stood.
“Is there not danger in being so close to such places?” asked Lewis, glancing uneasily at Nita, whose flashing eyes and heightened colour told eloquently105 of the excitement which the sight had aroused in her breast.
“Not much,” answered the Professor, “no doubt we cannot be said to be in a place of absolute safety, nevertheless the danger is not great, because we can generally observe the avalanches in time to get out of the way of spent shots; and, besides, if we run under the lea of such boulders as that, we are quite safe, unless it were to be hit by one pretty nearly as large as itself.” He pointed106 as he spoke107 to a mass of granite108 about the size of an omnibus, which lay just in front of them. “But I see,” he added, laughing, “that Antoine thinks this is not a suitable place for the delivery of lectures; we must hasten forward.”
Soon they surmounted109 the steeps of the Glacier du Talèfre, and reached the object of their desire, the Jardin.
It is well named. A wonderful spot of earth and rock which rises out of the midst of a great basin of half-formed ice, the lower part being covered with green sward and spangled with flowers, while the summit of the rock forms a splendid out-look from which to view the surrounding scene.
Here, seated on the soft grass—the green of which was absolutely delicious to the eyes after the long walk over the glaring ice—the jovial110 Professor, with a sandwich in one hand and a flask111 of vin ordinaire in the other, descanted on the world of ice. He had a willing audience, for they were all too busy with food to use their tongues in speech, except in making an occasional brief demand or comment.
“Glorious!” exclaimed the Professor.
“Which, the view or the victuals112?” asked Lewis. “Both,” cried the Professor, helping113 himself to another half-dozen sandwiches.
“Thank you—no more at present,” said Nita to the disappointed Slingsby, who placed the rejected limb of a fowl114 on his own plate with a deep sigh.
“Professor,” said Nita, half-turning her back on the afflicted115 artist, “how, when, and where be all this ice formed?”
“A comprehensive question!” cried the Professor. “Thank you—yes, a wing and a leg; also, if you can spare it, a piece of the—ah! so, you are right. The whole fowl is best. I can then help myself. Miss Gray, shall I assist you to a—no? Well, as I was about to remark, in reply to your comprehensive question, Mademoiselle, this basin, in which our Jardin lies, may be styled a mighty116 collector of the material which forms that great tributary117 of the Mer de Glace, named the Glacier du Talèfre. This material is called névé.”
“An’ what’s nevy?” asked Captain Wopper, as well as a full mouth would allow him.
“Névé,” replied the Professor, “is snow altered by partial melting, and freezing, and compression—snow in the process of being squeezed into ice. You must know that there is a line on all high mountains which is called the snow-line. Above this line, the snow that falls each year never disappears; below it the snow, and ice too, undergoes the melting process continually. The portion below the snow-line is always being diminished; that above it is always augmenting118; thus the loss of the one is counterbalanced by the gain of the other; and thus the continuity of glaciers119 is maintained. That part of a glacier which lies above the snow-line is styled névé; it is the fountain-head and source of supply to the glacier proper, which is the part that lies below the snow-line. Sometimes, for a series of years, perhaps, the supply from above is greater than the diminution120 below, the result being that the snout of a glacier advances into its valley, ploughs up the land, and sometimes overturns the cottages. (See Note 1.) On the other hand the reverse process goes on, it may be for years, and a glacier recedes121 somewhat, leaving a whole valley of débris, or terminal moraine, which is sometimes, after centuries perhaps, clothed with vegetation and dotted with cottages.”
“This basin, or collector of névé, on whose beautiful oasis I have the felicity to lunch in such charming society (the jovial Professor bowed to the ladies), is, according to your talented Professor Forbes (he bowed to Lawrence), about four thousand two hundred yards wide, and all the ice it contains is, farther down, squeezed through a gorge61 not more than seven hundred yards wide, thus forming that grand ice-cascade of the Talèfre which you have seen on the way hither. It is a splendid, as well as interesting amphitheatre, for it is bounded, as you see, on one side by the Grandes Jorasses, on the other by Mont Mallet, while elsewhere you have the vast plateau whence the Glacier du Géant is fed; the Aiguille du Géant, the Aiguille Noire, the Montagnes Mandites, and Mont Blanc. Another wing, if you please—ah, finished? No matter, pass the loaf. It will do as well.”
The Professor devoted122 himself for some minutes in silence to the loaf, which was much shorn of its proportions on leaving his hand. Like many great men, he was a great eater. The fires of intellect that burned within him seemed to require a more than ordinary supply of fuel. He slept, too, like an infant Hercules, and, as a natural consequence, toiled123 like a giant when awake.
Little Gillie White regarded him with feelings of undisguised awe, astonishment124 and delight, and was often sorely perplexed125 within himself as to whether he or Captain Wopper was the greater man. Both were colossal126 in size and energetic in body, and both were free and easy in manners, as well as good-humoured. No doubt, as Gillie argued with himself (and sometimes with Susan), the Professor was uncommon127 larned an’ deep, but then the Captain had a humorous vein128, which fully129 counterbalanced that in Gillie’s estimation.
The philosophic84 urchin was deeply engaged in debating this point with himself, and gazing open-mouthed at the Professor, when there suddenly occurred an avalanche so peculiar130 and destructive that it threw the whole party into the utmost consternation131. While removing a pile of plates, Gillie, in his abstraction, tripped on a stone, tumbled over the artist, crushed that gentleman’s head into Nita’s lap, and, descending head foremost, plates and all, into the midst of the feast, scattered132 very moraine of crockery and bottles all round. It was an appalling133 smash, and when the Captain seized Gillie by the back of his trousers with one hand and lifted him tenderly out of the midst of the débris, the limp way in which he hung suggested the idea that a broken bottle must have penetrated134 his vitals and finished him.
It was not so, however. Gillie’s sagacity told him that he would probably be wounded if he were to move. He wisely, therefore, remained quite passive, and allowed himself to be lifted out of danger.
“Nobody hurt, I ’ope,” he said, on being set on his legs; “it was a awk’ard plunge135.”
“Awk’ard? you blue spider,” cried the Captain; “you deserve to be keel-hauled, or pitched into a crevasse. Look alive now, an’ clear up the mess you’ve made.”
Fortunately the feast was about concluded when this contretemps occurred, so that no serious loss was sustained. Some of the gentlemen lighted their pipes and cigars, to solace136 themselves before commencing the return journey. The ladies went off to saunter and to botanise, and Slingsby attempted to sketch137 the scenery.
And here again, as on the previous excursion, Captain Wopper received a chill in regard to his matrimonial hopes. When the ladies rose, Lewis managed to engage Nita in an interesting conversation on what he styled the flora138 of central Europe, and led her away. Emma was thus left without her companion. Now, thought the Captain, there’s your chance, Dr Lawrence, go in and win! But Lawrence did not avail himself of the chance. He suffered Emma to follow her friend, and remained behind talking with the Professor on the vexed139 subject of the cause of glacial motion.
“Most extraor’nary,” thought the Captain, somewhat nettled140, as well as disappointed. “What can the youngster mean? She’s as sweet a gal as a fellow would wish to see, an’ yet he don’t pay no more attention to her than if she was an old bumboat ’ooman. Very odd. Can’t make it out nohow!”
Captain Wopper was not the first, and will certainly not be the last, to experience difficulty in accounting141 for the conduct of young men and maidens142 in this world of cross-currents and queer fancies.
Note 1. Such is actually true at the present time of the Görner glacier, which has for a long time been advancing, and, during the last sixty years or so, has overturned between forty and fifty châlets.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
wondrous
|
|
| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
avalanches
|
|
| n.雪崩( avalanche的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
avalanche
|
|
| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
remonstrated
|
|
| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
puffing
|
|
| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
urchin
|
|
| n.顽童；海胆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
plied
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
imp
|
|
| n.顽童 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
wholesale
|
|
| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
forefinger
|
|
| n.食指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
plank
|
|
| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
repent
|
|
| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
precocious
|
|
| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
vent
|
|
| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
conceited
|
|
| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
abashed
|
|
| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
plucky
|
|
| adj.勇敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
axe
|
|
| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
precipice
|
|
| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
mules
|
|
| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
shovelled
|
|
| v.铲子( shovel的过去式和过去分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
musing
|
|
| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
gal
|
|
| n.姑娘，少女 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
imbibed
|
|
| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
benign
|
|
| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
plumed
|
|
| 饰有羽毛的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
esteemed
|
|
| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
stentorian
|
|
| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
toiling
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
mallet
|
|
| n.槌棒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
pinnacles
|
|
| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
glacier
|
|
| n.冰川，冰河 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
verdant
|
|
| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
gem
|
|
| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
oasis
|
|
| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
cataract
|
|
| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
solitudes
|
|
| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
gorges
|
|
| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
gorge
|
|
| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
daggers
|
|
| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
crevasse
|
|
| n. 裂缝，破口；v.使有裂缝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
simile
|
|
| n.直喻，明喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
configuration
|
|
| n.结构，布局，形态，(计算机)配置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
crevasses
|
|
| n.破口，崩溃处，裂缝( crevasse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
isolated
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
obelisks
|
|
| n.方尖石塔，短剑号，疑问记号( obelisk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
spires
|
|
| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
rivulets
|
|
| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
rippling
|
|
| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
ledges
|
|
| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
gliding
|
|
| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
plunging
|
|
| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
chasms
|
|
| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
shimmering
|
|
| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
looming
|
|
| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
rupture
|
|
| n.破裂；(关系的)决裂；v.(使)破裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
cones
|
|
| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
sarcasm
|
|
| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
philosophic
|
|
| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
bland
|
|
| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
boulder
|
|
| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
stranded
|
|
| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
lateral
|
|
| adj.侧面的，旁边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
grumbling
|
|
| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
boulders
|
|
| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
caverns
|
|
| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
growl
|
|
| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
murmurs
|
|
| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
descending
|
|
| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
fraught
|
|
| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
backwards
|
|
| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
chaotic
|
|
| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
eloquently
|
|
| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
surmounted
|
|
| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
jovial
|
|
| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
flask
|
|
| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
victuals
|
|
| n.食物；食品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
fowl
|
|
| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
afflicted
|
|
| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
tributary
|
|
| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
augmenting
|
|
| 使扩张 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
glaciers
|
|
| 冰河，冰川( glacier的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
diminution
|
|
| n.减少；变小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
recedes
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的第三人称单数 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
toiled
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
colossal
|
|
| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
solace
|
|
| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
flora
|
|
| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
vexed
|
|
| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
nettled
|
|
| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
accounting
|
|
| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |