Rain, rain, rain; continual, pertinacious1, unmitigated rain! The White House was no longer white, it was grey. Things were no longer damp, they were totally flooded. Mr McAllister’s principal hay-field was a pond—every ditch was a rivulet2; “the burn” was a destructive cataract3; the white torrents4 that raged down the mountains everywhere, far and near, looked like veins5 of quartz6, and the river had become a lake with a strong current in the middle of it. There was no sunshine now in the Highlands,—not a gleam!
Nevertheless there was sunshine in the hearts of some who sojourned there. Mr Sudberry had found out that he could fish just as well in wet weather as in dry, and that the fish were more eager to be caught. That was sunshine enough for him! Lucy found a new and engrossing9 amusement, of a semi-scientific kind, in laying down and pressing her botanical specimens10, and writing Latin names under the same, being advised thereto and superintended by Hector Macdonald. That was sunshine enough for her, and for him too apparently11, for he came every day to help her, (and she declared she could not get on without help), and it was quite wonderful to observe how very slowly the laying-down progressed, although both of the semi-philosophers were intensely interested in their work. Flora12 was so sunny by nature that she lightened up the place around her wherever she went; she was thus in some measure independent of the sun. George was heard to say more than once that her face was as good as a sunbeam any day! Mrs Sudberry, poor woman, was so rampantly13 triumphant14 in the total discomfiture15 of her husband touching16 the weather, that she resigned herself to Highland7 miseries17 in a species of happy contentment, and thus lived in what may be likened to a species of mild moonshine of her own. Tilly, poor, delicate, unobtrusive Tilly, was at all times satisfied to bask18 in the moonlight of her mother’s countenance19. As for Jacky—that arch-imp discovered that wet weather usually brought his victims within doors, and therefore kept them constantly within reach of his dreadful influence. He was supremely20 happy—“darling child.” Fred finished up his sketches—need we say that that was sunshine to him? The servants too shared in the general felicity. Indeed, they may, in a sense, be said to have been happier than those they served, for, having been transported to that region to work, they found the little bits of fun and amusement that fell to their lot all the more pleasant and enjoyable, that they were unexpected, and formed a piquant22 contrast to the monotonous23 routine of daily duty.
But the brightest blaze of internal sunshine—the most effulgent24 and dazzling beams of light were shed forth25 in the lowly hut of Jacky’s particular friend. Old Moggy did not die after all! To the total discomfiture of the parish doctor, and to the reflected discredit26 of the medical profession generally, that obstinate27 old creature got well in spite of the emphatic28 assurances of her medical adviser29 that recovery was impossible. The doctor happened to be a misanthrope30. He was not aware that in the Materia Medica of Nature’s laboratory there is a substance called “joy,” which sometimes effects a cure when all else fails—or, if he did know of this medicine, he probably regarded it as a quack31 nostrum32.
At all events this substance cured old Moggy, as Willie said, “in less than no time.” She took such deep draughts35 of it, that she quite surprised her old friends. So did Willie himself. In fact, these two absolutely took to tippling together on this medicine. More than that, Jacky joined them, and seemed to imbibe36 a good deal—chiefly through his eyes, which were always very wide open and watchful37 when he was in the old hut. He drank to them only with his eyes and ears, and could not be induced to enter into conversation much farther than to the extent of yes and no. Not that he was shy—by no means! The truth was that Jacky was being opened up—mentally. The new medicine was exercising an unconscious but powerful influence on his sagacious spirit. In addition to that he was fascinated by Willie—for the matter of that, so was old Moggy—for did not that small sailor-boy sing, and laugh, and talk to them for hours about sights and scenes of foreign travel of which neither of them had dreamed before? Of course he did, and caused both of them to stare with eyes and mouths quite motionless for half-hours at a time, and then roused them up with a joke that made Jacky laugh till he cried, and made Moggy, who was always crying more or less, laugh till she couldn’t cry! Yes, there was very brilliant sunshine in the hut during that dismal38 season of rain—there was the sunshine of human love and sympathy, and Flora was the means of introducing and mingling39 with it sunshine of a still brighter and a holier nature, which, while it intensified40 the other, rendered it also permanent.
At last the end of the Sudberrys’ rustication41 arrived; the last day of their sojourn8 dawned. It happened to be bright and beautiful—so bright and lovely that it made one feel as if there never had been a bad day since the world began, and never would be another bad one to the end of time. It was the fourth fine day of the six dreary42 weeks—the third, which occurred some days before, was only half-and-half; and therefore unworthy of special notice. Nevertheless, the Sudberrys felt sad. They were going away! The mental sunshine of the rainy season was beclouded, and the physical sunshine was of no avail to dispel43 such clouds.
“My dear,” said Mr Sudberry at breakfast that morning, in a very sad tone, “have you any further use for me?”
“My dear, no,” replied his partner, sorrowfully.
From the nature of these remarks and the tone in which they were uttered, an ignorant spectator might have imagined that Mr Sudberry, having suspected his wife of growing indifference44, and having had his worst fears confirmed from her own lips, meant to go quietly away to the river and drown him in a deep pool with a strong eddy45, so that he might run no chance of being prematurely46 washed upon a shallow. But the good man merely referred to “the packing,” in connection with which he had been his wife’s right hand during the last three or four days.
“Well, then, my love, as the heavy baggage has gone on before, and we are ready to start with the coach, which does not pass until the afternoon, I will go and take a last cast in the river.”
Mrs Sudberry made no objection; so Mr Sudberry, accompanied by George and Fred, went down to the “dear old river,” as they styled it, for the last time.
Now it must be known, that, some weeks previous to this time, Hobbs had been allowed by his master to go out for a day’s trout-fishing, and Hobbs, failing to raise a single fin21, put on a salmon47 fly in reckless desperation.
He happened, by the merest chance, to cast over a deep pool in which salmon were, (and still are), wont48 to lie. To his amazement49, a “whale,” as he styled it, instantly rose, sent its silvery body half out of the water, and fell over with a tremendous splash, but missed the fly. Hobbs was instantly affected50 with temporary insanity51. He cast in violent haste over the same spot, as if he hoped to hook the fish by the tail before it should get to the bottom. Again! again! and over again, but without result. Then, dancing on the bank with excitement, he changed the fly; tried every fly in the book; the insanity increasing, tried two flies at once, back to back; put on a bunch of trout-flies in addition; wound several worms round all; failed in every attempt to cast with care; and finished off by breaking the top of the rod, entangling52 the line round his legs, and fixing the hooks in his coat-tails; after which he rushed wildly up to the White House, to tell what he had seen and show what he had done!
From that day forward Mr Sudberry always commenced his day’s sport at the “Salmon Pool.”
As usual, on this his last day, he went down to the salmon pool, but he had so often fished there in vain, that hope was well-nigh extinguished. In addition to this, his spirits were depressed53, so he gave the rod to Fred.
Fred was not naturally a fisher, and he only agreed to take the rod because he saw that his father was indifferent about it.
“Fred, my boy, cast a little farther over, just below yon curl in the water near the willow54 bush—ah! that’s about the place. Hobbs declares that he raised a salmon there; but I can’t say I’ve ever seen one myself; though I have fished here every other morning for many weeks.”
Mr Sudberry had not quite finished speaking when Fred’s rod was bent55 into the form of a large hoop56.
“Hallo! here, father, take it—I don’t know what to do.”
What a blaze of excitement beamed on the father’s countenance!
“Hurrah! hold on, Fred,—no, no, no! ease off—he’ll break all away.”
The caution was just in time. Fred was holding on like a true Briton. He suddenly let the rod down and allowed the line to run out, which it did like lightning.
“What now, father? Oh! do take it—I shall certainly lose the fish.”
“No, no, boy; it is your fish; try to play it out.” No one but the good man himself knew what a tremendous effort of self-denial Mr Sudberry made on this occasion. But Fred felt certain that the fish would get off. He also knew that his father would give fifty pounds down on the spot to land a salmon: so he said firmly, “Father, if you don’t take the rod, I’ll throw it down!”
This settled the question. Father took the rod under protest, and, having had considerable experience in trout-fishing, began to play the salmon with really creditable skill, considering the difficulty of the operation, and the fact that it was his first “big fish.”
What varied57 expression flitted across the countenance of the enthusiastic sportsman on this great occasion! He totally forgot himself and his sons; he forgot even that this was his last day in the Highlands. It is an open question whether he did not forget altogether that he was in the Highlands, so absorbed, so intensely concentrated, was his mind on that salmon. George and Fred also became so excited that they lost all command of themselves, and kept leaping about, cheering, giving useless advice in eager tones, tripping over stones and uneven58 places on the banks, and following their father closely, as the fish led him up and down the river for full two hours. They, too, forgot themselves; they did not know what extraordinary faces they went on making during the greater part of the time!
Mr Sudberry began the battle by winding59 up the line, the salmon having begun to push slowly up stream after its first wild burst. In a moment it made a dart60 towards the opposite bank, so sudden and swift that the rod was pulled straight, and the line ran out with a whiz of the most violent description. Almost simultaneously61 with the whiz the salmon leaped its entire length out of the water, gave a tremendous fling in the air, and came down with a heavy splash!
Fred gasped62; George cheered, and Mr Sudberry uttered a roar of astonishment63, mingled64 with alarm, for the line was slack, and he thought the fish had broken off. It was still on, however, as a wild dash down stream, followed by a spurt65 up and across, with another fling into the air, proved beyond a doubt. The fish was very wild—fortunately it was well hooked, and the tackle was strong. What with excitement and the violent action that ensued at each rush, Mr Sudberry was so dreadfully blown in the first minutes, that he trembled from head to foot, and could scarce wind up the line. For one moment the thought occurred that he was too old to become a salmon-fisher, and that he would not be able to fight the battle out. He was quite mistaken. Every minute after this he seemed to gain fresh strength. The salmon happily took it into his head to cease its antics for half a minute, just when the fisher was at his worst. That half-minute of breathing-space was all that was wanted.
“Geo’ge—hah!—cut—wata!”
“Water! water!—chokin’!” reiterated67 his father.
“Oh, all right!” George scooped68 up a quantity of water in a leathern cup, and ran with it to his choking sire, who, holding the rod tight with both hands, turned his head aside and stretched over his left arm, still, however, keeping his eyes fixed69 on the line.
“Here, up with’t lips.”
The lips were projected, and George raised the cup to them, but the salmon moved at the moment, and the draught34 was postponed70. The fish came to another pause soon after.
“Now, Geo’ge, try ’gain.”
Once more the lips were projected, once again the cup was raised, but that salmon seemed to know what was going on, for, just as the cup and the lips met, it went off in an unusually fierce run down the river. The cup and its contents were knocked into George’s face, and George himself was knocked over by his father as he sprang down the bank, and ran along a dry patch of gravel71, which extended to the tail of the pool.
Hitherto the battle had been fought within the limits of one large pool, which the fish seemed to have an objection to quit. It now changed its tactics, and began to descend72 the river tail foremost, slowly, but steadily73. The round face of the fisher, which had all this time been blazing red with eager hope, was now beclouded with a shade of anxiety.
“Don’t let him go down the rapids, father,” said George; “you’ll never get past the thick bushes that overhang the bank.”
Mr Sudberry stopped, and held on till the rod bent like a giant hoop and the line became rigid74; but the fish was not to be checked. Its retrograde movement was slow, but steady and irresistible75.
“You’ll smash everything!” cried Fred. Mr Sudberry was constrained76 to follow, step by step. The head of the rapid was gained, and he had to increase the pace to a quick walk; still farther down, and the walk became a smart run. The ground here was more rugged77, and the fisher’s actions became quite acrobatic. George and Fred kept higher up the bank, and ran along, gazing in unspeakable amazement at the bounds and leaps which their fat little sire made with the agility78 of a roe79 deer.
“Hold on! the bushes! let it break off!”
Mr Sudberry scorned the advice. The part of the bank before him was impassable; not so the river, which rushed past him like a mill-race. He tried once more to stop the fish; failed, of course, and deliberately80 walked into the water. It was waist-deep, so he was carried down like a cork81 with his toes touching the ground so lightly, that, for the first time in his life, he rejoiced in those sensations, which he had hitherto believed belonged exclusively to harlequins and columbines; namely, swift motion without effort! Fifty yards at the rate of ten miles an hour brought him to an eddy, into which the salmon had dashed just before him. Mr Sudberry gave vent33 to another roar as he beheld82 the fish almost under his nose. The startled creature at once flashed out of his sight, and swept up, down, and across the stream several times, besides throwing one or two somersaults in the air, before it recovered its equanimity83. After this it bolted into a deep, dark pool, and remained there quite motionless.
Mr Sudberry was much puzzled at this point. To let out line when the fish ran up or across stream, to wind in when the fish stopped, and to follow when the fish went down stream—these principles he had been taught by experience in trout-fishing; but how to act when a fish would not move, and could not be made to move, was a lesson which he had yet to learn.
“What’s to be done?” said he, with a look of exasperation84, (and no wonder; he had experienced an hour and a quarter of very rough treatment, and was getting fagged).
“Pull him out of that hole,” suggested George.
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
Mr Sudberry tried and failed. Having failed he sat down on a stone, still holding the rod very tight, and wiped his heated brow. Then, starting up, he tried for the next ten minutes to pull the fish out of the hole by main force, of course never venturing to pull so hard as to break the line. He went up the stream and pulled, down the stream and pulled, he even waded85 across the stream at a shallow part and pulled, but all in vain. The fish was in that condition which fishers term “the sulks.”
At last Fred recollected86 to have heard Hector Macdonald say that in such cases a stone thrown into the pool sometimes had the effect of starting the sulky one. Accordingly a stone was thrown in, and the result was that the fish came out at full speed in a horrible fright, and went down stream, not tail but head foremost. Now, when a salmon does this, he knows by instinct that if he does not go down faster than the stream the water will force itself into his gills and drown him; therefore when he goes down head first, (which he seldom does, except when on his way to the sea), he goes at full speed, and the fisher’s only chance of saving his fish is to run after him as fast as he can, in the hope that he may pause of his own accord in some opportune87 eddy.
A fine open space of bank enabled Mr Sudberry to run like a deer after his fish for nigh a quarter of a mile, but, at the end of this burst, he drew near to “the falls”—a succession of small cataracts88 and rapids which it seemed impossible for any fisher to go down without breaking his neck and losing his fish. George and Fred roared, “Hold on!” Mr Sudberry glanced at the falls, frowned, and compressed his lips. He felt that he was “in for it;” he resolved not to be beat, so on he went! The fish went right down the first fall; the fisher leaped over a ledge89 of rock three feet high, scrambled90 across some rough ground, and pulled up at an eddy where the fish seemed disposed to rest. He was gratified here by seeing the fish turn up the white of his side—thus showing symptoms of exhaustion91. But he recovered, and went over another fall.
Here he stopped again, and George and Fred, feeling convinced that their father had gone mad, threw off their coats and ran to the foot of the fall, ready to plunge92 into the stream and rescue him from the fate which they thought they saw impending93. No such fate awaited the daring man. He succeeded in drawing the fish close to a gravelly shallow, where it gave an exhausted94 wallop or two, and lay over on its side. George came up, and leaping into the water tried to kick it out. He missed his kick and fell. Fred dashed in, and also missed. Mr Sudberry rushed forward and gave the salmon such a kick that he sent it high and dry on the bank! But in doing so he fell over George and tripped up Fred, so that all three were instantly soaked to the skin, and returned to the bank without their hats. Mr Sudberry flung himself on the conquered fish and held it fast, while George and Fred cheered and danced round him in triumphant joy.
Thus Mr Sudberry landed his first and last salmon—a ten-pounder—and thus, brilliantly, terminated his three-months’ rustication in the Highlands.
But this was not the end of the whole affair—by no means. Mr Sudberry and family returned to London, and they took that salmon with them. A dinner-party of choice friends was hastily got up to do honour to the superb fish, and on that occasion Fred and his father well-nigh quarrelled on the point of, “who caught the salmon!” Mr Sudberry insisting that the man who hooked the fish was the real catcher of it, and Fred scouting95 the ridiculous notion, and asserting that he who played and landed it was entitled to all the honour. The point was settled, however, in some incomprehensible way, without the self-denying disputants coming to blows; and everyone agreed that it was, out of sight, the best salmon that had ever been eaten in London. Certainly, it was one of the merriest parties that ever ate a salmon, for Mr Sudberry’s choice friends were of an uncommonly96 genial97 stamp. Jones, the head clerk, (the man with the red nose and humble98 aspect), was there, and so brilliant was Mr Sudberry that Jones was observed to smile!—the first instance on record of his having given way to levity99 of demeanour. Lady Knownothing was there too, and before the evening was over she knew a few things that surprised but did not in the least convince her. Oh, no! she knew everything so thoroughly100 that there was no possibility on earth of increasing her stock of knowledge! Truly it was a happy party, and Mr Sudberry enjoyed himself so much that he volunteered the Highland fling in the drawing-room—George whistling the music—on which occasion he, (Mr Sudberry), swept nearly half the tea-service off the table with his coat-tails, and Mrs Sudberry was so happy that she didn’t care a button—and said so!
But this was not the end of it yet, by any means. That winter Hector and Flora Macdonald visited London and were received by the Sudberrys with open arms. The result was that Lucy became intensely botanical in her tastes, and routed out the old plants. Of course Hector could not do less than assist her, and the finale was, that these two scientific individuals were married, and dwelt for many years thereafter in the Highlands. Strange to say, George and Flora fell in love with each—But why say more? We do not mean to write the history of these two families. It is enough to say, that every summer, for many years after that, the Sudberrys spent two or three months in the Highlands with the Macdonalds, and every winter the Macdonalds spent a similar period with the Sudberrys. On the former of these occasions Fred renewed his intercourse101 with Mr McAllister, and these two became so profoundly, inconceivably, deep and metaphysical, besides theological, in their converse102, that they were utterly103 incomprehensible to everyone except themselves.
Best of all, Jacky became a good boy! Yes; that day on the hills with Peter was the beginning of it—old Moggy, Willie, and Flora, were the continuation of it—and Jacky became good, to the unspeakable joy of his mother.
Old Moggy lived to a fabulous104 age, and became at last as wrinkled as a red herring. For all we know to the contrary, she may be alive yet. Willie lived with her, and became a cultivator of the soil. But why go on? Enough has been said to show that no ill befell any individual mentioned in our tale. Even Mrs Brown lived to a good old age, and was a female dragon to the last. Enough has also been said to prove, that, as the old song has it, “we little know what great things from little things may rise.”
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1
pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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rivulet
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| n.小溪，小河 | |
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cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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quartz
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| n.石英 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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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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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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rampantly
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| 粗暴地，猖獗的 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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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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supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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effulgent
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| adj.光辉的；灿烂的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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misanthrope
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| n.恨人类的人；厌世者 | |
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quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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nostrum
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| n.秘方；妙策 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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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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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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imbibe
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| v.喝，饮；吸入，吸收 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rustication
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| n.被罚休学，定居农村；乡村生活 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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entangling
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| 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的现在分词 ) | |
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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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54
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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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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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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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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postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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72
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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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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agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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roe
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| n.鱼卵；獐鹿 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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84
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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cataracts
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| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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93
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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95
scouting
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| 守候活动，童子军的活动 | |
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96
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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97
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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98
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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99
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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100
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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101
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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102
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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103
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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104
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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