Some Account of a Great Fishing Expedition.
There was an old barometer1 of the banjo type in the parlour of the White House, which, whatever might have been its character for veracity2 in former days, had now become such an inveterate3 story-teller, that it was pretty safe to accept as true exactly the reverse of what it indicated. One evening Mr Sudberry kept tapping that antique and musical-looking instrument, with a view to get it to speak out its mind freely. The worthy4 man’s efforts were not in vain, for the instrument, whether out of spite or not, we cannot say, indicated plainly “much rain.”
Now, it must be known that Mr Sudberry knew as much about trout5 and salmon-fishing as that celebrated6 though solitary7 individual, “the man in the moon.” Believing that bright, dry, sunny weather was favourable8 to this sport, his heart failed him when the barometer became so prophetically depressed9, and he moved about the parlour with quick, uneasy steps, to the distress10 of his good wife, whose work-box he twice swept off the table with his coat-tails, and to the dismay of George, whose tackle, being spread out for examination, was, to a large extent, caught up and hopelessly affixed11 to the same unruly tails.
Supper and repose13 finally quieted Mr Sudberry’s anxious temperament14; and when he awoke on the following morning, the sun was shining in unclouded splendour through his window. Awaking with a start, he bounced out of bed, and, opening his window, shouted with delight that it was a glorious fishing-day.
The shout was addressed to the world at large, but it was responded to only by Hobbs.
“Yes, sir, it is a hexquisite day,” said that worthy; “what a day for the Thames, sir! It does my ’art good, sir, to think of that there river.”
Hobbs, who was standing15 below his master’s window, with his coat off, and his hands in his waistcoat-pockets, meant this as a happy and delicate allusion16 to things and times of the past.
“Ah! Hobbs,” said Mr Sudberry, “you don’t know what fishing in the Highlands is, yet; but you shall see. Are the rods ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the baskets and books?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir; Miss Lucy’s a makin’ of the san’wiches in the kitchen at this moment, and Maclister’s a diggin’ of the worms.”
Mr Sudberry shut his window, and George, hearing the noise, leaped out of bed with the violence that is peculiar21 to vigorous youth. Fred yawned.
“What a magnificent day!” said George, rubbing his hands, and slapping himself preparatory to ablutions; “I will shoot.”
“What! do you mean to have your nose plucked off and your eyes torn out at the beginning of our holiday?”
“Not if I can help it, George; but I mean to run the risk—I mean to cultivate that old woman.”
“Hallo! hi!” shouted their father from below, while he tapped at the window with the end of a fishing-rod. “Look alive there, boys, else we’ll have breakfast without you.”
“Ay, ay, father!” Fred was up in a moment.
About two hours later, father and sons sallied out for a day’s sport, George with a fowling-piece, Fred with a sketch-book, and Mr Sudberry with a fishing-rod, the varnish23 and brass-work on which, being perfectly24 new, glistened25 in the sun.
“We part here, father,” said George, as they reached a rude bridge that spanned the river about half a mile distant from the White House. “I mean to clamber up the sides of the Ben, and explore the gorges26. They say that ptarmigan and mountain hares are to be found there.”
The youth’s eye sparkled with enthusiasm; for, having been born and bred in the heart of London, the idea of roaming alone among wild rocky glens up among the hills, far from the abodes28 of men, made him fancy himself little short of a second Crusoe. He was also elated at the thought of firing at real wild birds and animals—his experiences with the gun having hitherto been confined to the unromantic practice of a shooting-gallery in Regent Street.
“Success to you, George,” cried Mr Sudberry, waving his hand to his son, as the latter was about to enter a ravine.
“The same to you, father,” cried George, as he waved his cap in return, and disappeared.
Five minutes’ walk brought them to the hut of the poor old woman, whose name they had learned was Moggy.
“This, then, is my goal,” said Fred, smiling. “I hope to scratch in the outline of the interior before you catch your first trout.”
“Take care the old woman doesn’t scratch out your eyes, Fred,” said the father, laughing. “Dinner at five—sharp, remember.”
Fred entered the hovel, and Mr Sudberry, walking briskly along the road for a quarter of a mile, diverged30 into a foot-path which conducted him to the banks of the river, and to the margin31 of a magnificent pool where he hoped to catch his first trout.
And now, at last, had arrived that hour to which Mr Sudberry had long looked forward with the most ardent32 anticipation33. To stand alone on a lovely summer’s day, rod in hand, on the banks of a Highland17 stream, had been the ambition of the worthy merchant ever since he was a boy. Fate had decreed that this ambition should not be gratified until his head was bald; but he did not rejoice the less on this account. His limbs were stout34 and still active, and his enthusiasm was as strong as it was in boyhood. No one knew the powerful spirit of angling which dwelt in Mr Sudberry’s breast. His wife did not, his sons did not. He was not fully35 aware of it himself, until opportunity revealed it in the most surprising manner. He had, indeed, known a little of the angler’s feelings in the days of his youth, but he had a soul above punts, and chairs, and floats, and such trifles; although, like all great men, he did not despise little things. Many a day had he sat on old Father Thames, staring, with eager expectation, at a gaudy36 float, as if all his earthly hopes were dependent on its motions; and many a struggling fish had he whipped out of the muddy waters with a shout of joy. But he thought of those days, now, with the feelings of an old soldier who, returning from the wars to his parents’ abode27, beholds37 the drum and pop-gun of his childhood. He recalled the pleasures of the punt with patronising kindliness38, and gazed majestically39 on crag, and glen, and bright, glancing stream, while he pressed his foot upon the purple heath, and put up his fishing-rod!
Mr Sudberry was in his element now. The deep flush on his gladsome countenance40 indicated the turmoil41 of combined romance and delight which raged within his heaving chest, and which he with difficulty prevented from breaking forth42 into an idiotic43 cheer. He was alone, as we have said. He was purposely so. He felt that, as yet, no member of his family could possibly sympathise with his feelings. It was better that they should not witness emotions which they could not thoroughly44 understand. Moreover, he wished to surprise them with the result of his prowess—in regard to which his belief was unlimited45. He felt, besides, that it was better there should be no witness to the trifling46 failures which might be expected to occur in the first essay of one wholly unacquainted with the art of angling, as practised in these remote glens.
The pool beside which Mr Sudberry stood was one which Hector Macdonald had pointed47 out as being one of the best in the river. It lay at the tail of a rapid, had an eddy48 in it, and a rippling49, oily surface. The banks were in places free from underwood, and only a few small trees grew near them. The shadow of the mountain, which reared its rugged50 crest51 close to it, usually darkened the surface, but, at the time we write of, a glowing sun poured its rays into the deepest recesses52 of the pool—a fact which filled Mr Sudberry, in his ignorance, with delight; but which, had he known better, would have overwhelmed him with dismay. In the present instance it happened that “ignorance was bliss,” for as every fish in the pool was watching the angler with grave upturned eyes while he put up his rod, and would as soon have attempted to swallow Mr Sudberry’s hat as leap at his artificial flies, it was well that he was not aware of the fact, otherwise his joy of heart would have been turned into sorrow sooner than there was any occasion for.
Musing53 on piscatorial54 scenes past, present, and to come, Mr Sudberry passed the line through the rings of his rod with trembling and excited fingers.
While thus engaged, he observed a break on the surface of the pool, and a fish caused a number of rings to form on the water; those floated toward him as if to invite him on. Mr Sudberry was red-hot now with hope and expectation. It was an enormous trout that had risen. Most trouts that are seen, but not caught, are enormous!
There is no pleasure without its alloy55. It could not be expected that the course of true sport, any more than that of true love, should run smooth. Mr Sudberry’s ruddy face suddenly turned pale when he discovered that he had forgotten his fishing book! Each pocket in his coat was slapped and plunged57 into with vehement58 haste, while drops of cold perspiration59 stood on his forehead. It was not to be found. Suddenly he recollected60 the basket at his back: wrenching61 it open, he found the book there, and joy again suffused62 his visage.
Selecting his best line and hooks—as pointed out to him by Hector—Mr Sudberry let out a few yards of line, and prepared for action. Remembering the advice and example of his friend, he made his first cast.
Ha! not so bad. The line fell rather closer to the bank on which he stood than was consistent with the vigour63 of the cast; but never mind, the next would be better! The next was better. The line went out to its full extent, and came down on the water with such a splash that no trout in its senses would have looked at the place for an hour afterwards. But Mr Sudberry was ignorant of this, so he went on hopefully.
As yet the line was short, so he let out half a dozen yards boldly, and allowed the stream to draw it straight. Then, making a violent effort, he succeeded in causing it to descend64 in a series of circles close to his feet! This, besides being unexpected, was embarrassing. Determined65 to succeed, he made another cast, and caught the top branch of a small tree, the existence of which he had forgotten. There the hooks remained fixed12.
A deep sigh broke from the excited man, as he gazed ruefully up at the tree. Under a sudden and violent impulse, he tried to pull the tackle forcibly away. This would not do. He tried again till the rod bent66 almost double, and he was filled with amazement67 to find that the casting-line, though no thicker than a thread, could stand such a pull. Still the hooks held on. Laying down his rod, he wiped his forehead and sighed again.
But Mr Sudberry was not a man to be easily thwarted68. Recalling the days of his boyhood, he cast off his coat and nimbly shinned up the trunk of the tree. In a few minutes he reached the top branch and seized it. At that moment the bough69 on which he stood gave way, and he fell to the ground with a terrible crash, bringing the top branch with him! Gathering70 himself up, he carefully manipulated his neck, to ascertain71 whether or not it was broken. He found that it was not; but the line was, so he sat down quietly on the bank and replaced it with a new one.
Before Mr Sudberry left that spot on the bank beside the dark pool, he had caught the tree four times and his hat twice, but he had caught no trout. “They’re not taking to-day, that’s it,” he muttered sadly to himself; “but come, cheer up, old fellow, and try a new fly.”
Thus encouraged by himself, Mr Sudberry selected a large blue fly with a black head, red wings, and a long yellow tail. It was a gorgeous, and he thought a tempting72 creature; but the trout were evidently not of the same opinion. For several hours the unfortunate piscator flogged the water in vain. He became very hot during this prolonged exertion73, stumbled into several holes, and wetted both legs up to the knees, had his cap brushed off more than once by overhanging branches, and entangled74 his line grievously while in the act of picking it up, bruised75 his shins several times, and in short got so much knocked about, battered76, and worried, that he began to feel in a state of mental and physical dishevelment.
Still his countenance did not betray much of his feelings. He found fishing more difficult in all respects than he had expected; but what then? Was he going to give way to disgust at the first disappointment? Certainly not. Was he going to fail in perseverance77 now, after having established a reputation for that quality during a long commercial life in the capital of England? Decidedly not. Was that energy, that vigour, that fervour of character for which he was noted78, to fail him here—here, in an uncivilised country, where it was so much required—after having been the means of raising him from a humble79 station to one of affluence80; after having enabled him to crush through all difficulties, small or great, as well as having caused him to sweep hecatombs of crockery to destruction with his coat tails? Indubitably not!
Glowing with such thoughts, the dauntless man tightened81 his cap on his brow, pressed his lips together with a firm smile, frowned good-humouredly at fate and the water, and continued his unflagging, though not unflogging, way.
So, the hot sun beat down upon him until evening drew on apace, and then the midges came out. The torments82 which Mr Sudberry endured after this were positively83 awful, and the struggles that he made, in the bravery of his cheerful heart, to bear up against them, were worthy of a hero of romance. His sufferings were all the more terrible and exasperating84, that at first they came in the shape of an effect without a cause. The skin of his face and hands began to inflame85 and to itch20 beyond endurance—to his great surprise; for the midges were so exceedingly small and light, that, being deeply intent on his line, he did not observe them. He had heard of midges, no doubt; but never having seen them, and being altogether engrossed86 in his occupation, he never thought of them for a moment. He only became aware of ever-increasing uneasiness, and exhibited a tendency to rub the backs of his hands violently on his trousers, and to polish his countenance with his cuffs87.
It must be the effect of exposure to the sun, he thought—yes, that was it; of course, that would go off soon, and he would become case-hardened, a regular mountaineer! Ha! was that a trout? Yes, that must have been one at last; to be sure, there were several stones and eddies88 near the spot where it rose, but he knew the difference between the curl of an eddy now and the splash of a trout; he would throw over the exact spot, which was just a foot or two above a moss89-covered stone that peeped out of the water; he did so, and caught it—the stone, not the trout—and the hooks remained fixed in the slimy green moss.
Mr Sudberry scratched his head and felt inclined to stamp. He even experienced a wild desire to cast his rod violently into the river, and walk home with his hands in his pockets; but he restrained himself. Pulling on the line somewhat recklessly, the hook came away, to his immense delight, trailing a long thread of the green moss along with it.
Mr Sudberry now took to holding a muttered conversation with himself—a practice which was by no means new to him, and in the course of which he was wont90 to address himself in curiously91 disrespectful terms. “Come, come, John, my boy, don’t be cast down! Never say die! Hope, ay, hope told a flatter— Hallo! was that a rise? No, it must have been another of these—what can be the matter with your skin to-day, John? I don’t believe it’s the sun, after all. The sun never drove anyone frantic92. Never mind; cheer up, old cock! That seems a very likely hole—a beautiful—beau–ti—steady! That was a good cast—the best you’ve made to-day, my buck93; try it again—ha! s–s–us! caught again, as I’m a Dutchman. This is too bad. Really, you know—well, you’ve come off easier than might have been expected. Now then, softly. What can be the matter with your face?—surely—it cannot be,” (Mr Sudberry’s heart palpitated as he thought), “the measles94! Oh! impossible, pooh! pooh! you had the measles when you were a baby, of course—d’ye know, John, you’re not quite sure of that. Fevers, too, occasionally come on with extreme—dear me, how hot it is, and what a time you have been fishing, you stupid fellow, without a rise! It must be getting late.”
Mr Sudberry stopped with a startled look as he said this. He glanced at the sun, pulled out his watch, gazed at it with unutterable surprise, put it to his ear, and groaned95.
“Too late! half-past five; dinner at five—punctually! Oh! Mary, Mary, won’t I catch it to-night!”
A cloud passed over the sun as he spoke96. Being very susceptible97 to outward influences, the gloom of the shadow descended98 on his spirits as well as his person, and for the first time that day a look of deep dejection overspread his countenance.
Suddenly there was a violent twitch99 at the end of the rod, the reel spun100 round with a sharp whirr–r, and every nerve in Mr Sudberry’s system received an electric shock as he bent forward, straddled his legs, and made a desperate effort to fling the trout over his head.
The slender rod would not, however, permit of such treatment. It bent double, and the excited piscator was fain to wind up—an operation which he performed so hastily that the line became entangled with the winch of the reel, which brought it to a dead-lock. With a gasp101 of anxiety he flung down the rod, and seizing the line with his hands, hauled out a beautiful yellow trout of about a quarter of a pound in weight, and five or six inches long.
To describe the joy of Mr Sudberry at this piece of good fortune were next to impossible. Sitting down on his fishing-basket, with the trout full in view, he drew forth a small flask19 of sherry, a slice of bread, and a lump of cheese, and proceeded then and there to regale102 himself. He cared nothing now for the loss of his dinner; no thought gave he to the anticipated scold from neglected Mrs Sudberry. He gave full scope to his joy at the catching103 of this, his first trout. He looked up at the cloud that obscured the sun, and forgave it, little thinking, innocent man, that the said cloud had done him a good turn that day. He smiled benignantly on water, earth, and sky. He rubbed his face, and when he did so he thought of the measles and laughed—laughed heartily104, for by that time he had discovered the true cause of his misery105; and although we cannot venture to say that he forgave the midges, sure we are that he was greatly mollified towards them.
Does any ignorant or cynical106 reader deem such an extravagance of delight inconsistent with so trifling an occasion? Let him ponder before he ventures to exclaim, “Ridiculous!” Let him look round upon this busy, whirling, incomprehensible world, and note how its laughing and weeping multitudes are oft-times tickled107 to uproarious merriment, or whelmed in gloomy woe108, by the veriest trifles, and then let him try to look with sympathy on Mr Sudberry and his first trout.
Having carefully deposited the fish in his basket, he once more resumed his rod and his expectations.
But if the petty annoyances109 that beset110 our friend in the fore29 part of that day may be styled harassing111, those with which he was overwhelmed towards evening may be called exasperating. First of all he broke the top of his rod, a misfortune which broke his heart entirely112. But recollecting113 suddenly that he had three spare top-pieces in the butt114, his heart was cemented and bound up, so to speak, in a rough and ready manner. Next, he stepped into a hole, which turned out to be three feet deep, so that he was instantly soaked up to the waist. Being extremely hot, besides having grown quite reckless, Mr Sudberry did not mind this; it was pleasantly cooling. He was cheered, too, at the moment, by the re-appearance of the sun, which shone out as bright as ever, warming his heart, (poor, ignorant man!) and, all unknown to him, damaging his chance of catching any more fish at that time.
Soon after this he came to a part of the river where it flowed through extremely rugged rocks, and plunged over one or two precipices115, sending up clouds of grey mist and a dull roar which overawed him, and depressed his spirits. This latter effect was still further increased by the bruising116 of his shins and elbows, which resulted from the rough nature of the ground. He became quite expert now in hanking on bushes and disentangling the line, and experienced a growing belief in the truth of the old saying that “practice makes perfect.” He cast better, he hanked oftener, and he disentangled more easily than he had done at an earlier period of the day. The midges, too, increased as evening advanced.
Presently he came upon a picturesque117 portion of the stream where the waters warbled and curled in little easy-going rapids, miniature falls, and deep oily pools. Being an angler by nature, though not by practice, (as yet), he felt that there must be something there. A row of natural stepping-stones ran out towards a splendid pool, in which he felt assured there must be a large trout—perhaps a grilse. His modesty118 forbade him to hint “a salmon,” even to himself.
It is a very difficult thing, as everyone knows, to step from one stone to another in a river, especially when the water flowing between runs swift and deep. Mr Sudberry found it so. In his effort to approach the pool in question, which lay under the opposite bank, he exhibited not a few of the postures119 of the rope-dancer and the acrobat120; but he succeeded, for Mr Sudberry was a man of indomitable pluck.
Standing on a small stone, carefully balanced, and with his feet close together, he made a beautiful cast. It was gracefully121 done; it was vigorously, manfully done—considering the difficulty of the position, and the voracity122 of the midges—and would have been undoubtedly123 successful but for the branch of a tree which grew on the opposite bank and overhung the stream. This branch Mr Sudberry, in his eagerness, did not observe. In casting, he thrust the end of his rod violently into it; the line twirled in dire124 confusion round the leaves and small boughs125, and the drag hook, as if to taunt126 him, hung down within a foot of his nose.
Mr Sudberry, in despair, made a desperate grasp at this and caught it. More than that—it caught him, and sunk into his forefinger127 over the barb128, so that he could not get it out. The rock on which he stood was too narrow to admit of much movement, much less to permit of his resting the butt of his rod on it, even if that had been practicable—which it was not, owing to the line being fast to the bough, and the reel in a state of dead-lock from some indescribable manoeuvre129 to which it had previously130 been subjected.
There he stood, the very personification of despair; but while standing there he revolved131 in his mind the best method of releasing his line without breaking it or further damaging his rod. Alas132! fortune, in this instance, did not favour the brave. While he was looking up in rueful contemplation of the havoc133 above, and then down at his pierced and captured finger, his foot slipped and he fell with a heavy plunge56 into deep water. That settled the question. The whole of his tackle remained attached to the fatal bough excepting the hook in his finger, with which, and the remains134 of his fishing-rod, he floundered to the shore.
Mr Sudberry’s first act on gaining the land was to look into his basket, where, to his great relief, the trout was still reposing135. His next was to pick up his hat, which was sailing in an eddy fifty yards down the stream. Then he squeezed the water out of his garments, took down his rod, with a heavy sigh strangely mingled136 with a triumphant137 smile, and turned his steps home just as the sun began to dip behind the peaks of the distant hills.
To his surprise and relief; Mrs Sudberry did not scold when, about an hour later, he entered the hall or porch of the White House with the deprecatory air of a dog that knows he has been misbehaving, and with the general aspect of a drowned rat. His wife had been terribly anxious about his non-arrival, and the joy she felt on seeing him safe and well, induced her to forget the scold.
“Oh! John dear, quick, get off your clothes,” was her first exclamation138.
As for Jacky, he uttered a cheer of delight and amazement at beholding139 his father in such a woeful plight140; and he spent the remainder of the evening in a state of impish triumph; for, had not his own father come home in the same wet and draggled condition as that in which he himself had presented himself to Mrs Brown earlier in the day, and for which he had received a sound whipping? “Hooray!” and with that the amiable141 child went off to inform his worthy nurse that “papa was as bad a boy as himself—badder, in fact; for he, (Jacky), had only been in the water up to the waist, while papa had gone into it head and heels!”
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1
barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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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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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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flasks
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| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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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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gorges
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| 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 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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abodes
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| 住所( abode的名词复数 )； 公寓； （在某地的）暂住； 逗留 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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diverged
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| 分开( diverge的过去式和过去分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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35
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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beholds
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| v.看，注视( behold的第三人称单数 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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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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41
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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45
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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46
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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47
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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48
eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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49
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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51
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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52
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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53
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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54
piscatorial
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| adj.鱼的；渔业的 | |
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55
alloy
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| n.合金，(金属的)成色 | |
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56
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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59
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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60
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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62
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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64
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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65
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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66
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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67
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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68
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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69
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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70
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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71
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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72
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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73
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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74
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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76
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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77
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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78
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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79
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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80
affluence
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| n.充裕，富足 | |
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81
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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82
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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83
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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84
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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85
inflame
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| v.使燃烧；使极度激动；使发炎 | |
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86
engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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87
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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88
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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89
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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90
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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91
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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92
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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93
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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94
measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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95
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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96
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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97
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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98
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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99
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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100
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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101
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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102
regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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103
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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104
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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105
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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106
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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107
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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108
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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109
annoyances
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| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
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110
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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111
harassing
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| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
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112
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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113
recollecting
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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114
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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115
precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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116
bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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117
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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118
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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119
postures
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| 姿势( posture的名词复数 )； 看法； 态度； 立场 | |
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120
acrobat
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| n.特技演员，杂技演员 | |
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121
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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122
voracity
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| n.贪食，贪婪 | |
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123
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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124
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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125
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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126
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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127
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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128
barb
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| n.（鱼钩等的）倒钩，倒刺 | |
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129
manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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130
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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131
revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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132
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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133
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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134
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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135
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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136
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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137
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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138
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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139
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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140
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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141
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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