I remember a “cholera7 year” in a certain big village. The activity of the sanitary authorities (and many and vain had been the efforts to rouse them to activity before) was, for them, remarkable8. A good many heads of households died with fearful suddenness and not less fearful suffering. Several nuisances were “seen to,” some tar-barrels were burnt, and the scourge9 passed by. Not long ago a woman, whose home is in a court where some of the most flagrant nuisances existed, in talking to me, casually10 alluded11 to one of them. It had been ordered to be removed, she said, in the cholera year when the gentlemen were going round; but the cholera went away, and it remained among those things which were not “seen to,” and for aught I know flourishes still. She was a sensible and affectionate person. Living away from her home at that time, she became anxious at once for the welfare of her relatives if they neglected to write to her. But she had never an anxiety on the subject of that unremedied abomination which was poisoning every breath they drew. That “the gentlemen who went round” felt it superfluous12 to have their orders carried out when strong men were no longer sickening and dying within two revolutions of the hands of the church clock will surprise no one who has had to do with local sanitary officers. They are like the children of Israel, and will only do their duty under the pressure of a plague. The people themselves are more like the Egyptians. Plagues won’t convince them. A mother with all her own and her neighbors’ children sickening about her would walk miles in a burst shoe to fetch the doctor or a big bottle of medicine, but she won’t walk three yards farther than usual to draw her house-water from the well that the sewer13 doesn’t leak into. That is a fact, not a fable14; and, in the cases I am thinking of, all medical remonstrance15 was vain. Uneducated people will take any thing in from the doctor through their mouths, but little or nothing through their ears.
When such is the state of matters in busy, stirring districts, among shrewd artisans, and when our great seat of learning smells as it does smell under the noses of the professors, it is needless to say that the “black fever” found every household in the little village prepared to contribute to its support, and met with hardly an obstacle on its devastating16 path.
To comment on Master Salter’s qualifications for the post of sanitary inspector2 would be to insult the reader’s understanding. Of course he owned several of the picturesque17 little cottages where the refuse had to be pitched out at the back, and the slops chucked out in front, and where the general arrangements for health, comfort, and decency18 were such as one must forbear to speak of, since, on such matters, our ears—Heaven help us!—have all that delicacy19 which seems denied to our noses.
If the causes of the calamity20 were little understood, portents21 were plentifully23 noted24. The previous winter had been mild. A thunderbolt fell in the autumn. There was a blight25 on the gooseberries, and Master Salter had a calf26 with two heads. As to the painter, a screech-owl had been heard to cry from his chimney-top, not three weeks before his death.
There was a pause of a day or so after Master Linseed died, and then victims fell thick and fast. Children playing happily with their mimic27 boats on the open drain that ran lazily under the noontide sun, by the footpath28 of the main street, were coffined29 for their hasty burial before the sun had next reached his meridian30. The tears were hardly dry in their parents’ eyes before these also were closed in their last sleep. The very aged31 seemed to linger on, but strong men sickened and died; and at the end of the week more than one woman was left sitting by an empty hearth32, a worn-out creature whom Death seemed only to have forgotten to take away.
At first there was a reckless disregard of infection among the neighbors. But, after one or two of these family desolations, this was succeeded by a panic, and even the noble charity which the poor commonly show to each other’s troubles failed, and no one could be got to nurse the sick or bury the dead.
Now the Rector was an old man. Most of the parish officers were aged, and patriarchs in white smock frocks were as plentiful22 as creepers at the cottage doors. The healthy breezes and the dull pace at which life passed in the district seemed to make men slow to wear out. If the Rector had profited by these features of the parish in health, it must be confessed that they had also had their influence on his career. He was a good man, and a learned one. He stuck close to his living, and he was benevolent33. But he was not of those heroic natures who can resist the influence of the mental atmosphere around them; and in a dull parish, in a sleepy age, he had not been an active parson. Some men, however, who cannot make opportunities for themselves, can do nobly enough if the chance comes to them; and this chance came to the Rector in his sixty-ninth year, on the wings of the black fever. To quicken spiritual life in the soul of a Master Salter he had not the courage even to attempt; but a panic of physical cowardice34 had not a temptation for him. And so it came about that of four men who stayed the panic, by the example of their own courage, who went from house to house, and from sick-bed to sick-bed—who drew a cordon35 round the parish, and established kitchens and a temporary hospital, and nursed the sick, and encouraged the living, and buried the dead,—the most active was the old Rector.
The other three were the parish doctor, Squire Ammaby, and the schoolmaster.
On the very first rumor36 of the epidemic37, Lady Louisa had carried off Amabel, and had gone with Lady Craikshaw to Brighton. Both the ladies were indignant with the Squire’s obstinate38 resolve to remain amongst his tenants39. In her alarm, Lady Louisa implored40 him to sell the property and buy one in Ireland, which was Lady Craikshaw’s native country; and the list she contrived41 to run up of the drawbacks to the Ammaby estate would have driven a temper less stolid42 than her husband’s to distraction43.
When the fever broke out among the children, the schools were closed, and Master Swift devoted44 his whole time to laboring45 with the parson, the doctor, and the Squire.
No part of the Rector’s devotion won more affectionate gratitude46 from his people than a single act of thoughtfulness, by which he preserved a record of the graves of their dead. He had held firmly on to a decent and reverent47 burial, and, foreseeing that the poor survivors48 would be quite unable to afford gravestones, he kept a strict list of the dead, and where they were buried, which was afterwards transferred to one large monument, which was bought by subscription49. He cut the village off from all communication with the outer world, to prevent a spread of the disease; but he sent accounts of the calamity to the public papers, which brought abundant help in money for the needs of the parish. And in these matters the schoolmaster was his right-hand man.
The disease was most eccentric in its path. Having scourged50 one side only of the main street, it burst out with virulence51 in detached houses at a distance. Then it returned to the village, and after lulls52 and outbreaks it ceased as suddenly as it began.
The mill stood in a healthy position, but the dwelling54 room was ill-ventilated, and there were defective55 sanitary arrangements, which Master Swift had anxiously pointed56 out to the miller57. The plague had begun in the village, and the schoolmaster trembled for Jan. But Master Lake was not to be interfered58 with, and, when the schoolmaster spoke59 of poison, thought himself witty60 as he replied,—
It must also be allowed that such epidemics62, once started, do havoc63 in apparently64 clean houses and amongst well-fed people.
It was a little foster-sister of Jan’s who sickened first. She died within two days. Her burial was hasty enough, but Mrs. Lake had no time to fret65 about that, for a second child was ill. Like many another householder, the poor windmiller was now ready enough to look to his drains, and so forth66; but it may be doubted if the general stirring up of dirty places at this moment did not do as much harm as good. It was hot,—terribly hot. Day after day passed without a breeze to cool the burning skins of the sick, and yet it was not sunshiny. People did say that the pestilence hung like a murky67 vapor68 above the district, and hid the sun.
Trades were slack, corn-grinding amongst the rest, and Master Lake did the housework, helped by Jan and Abel. He was stunned69 by the suddenness and the weight of the calamity which had come to him. He was very kind to Mrs. Lake, but the poor woman was almost past any feeling but that which, as a sort of instinct or inspiration, guided a constant watching and waiting on her sick children. She never slept, and would not have eaten, but that Master Lake used his authority to force some food upon her. At this time Jan’s chief occupations were cookery and dish-washing. His constant habit of observation made all the experiences of life an education for him; he had often watched his foster-mother prepare the family meals, and he prepared them now, for Abel and the windmiller could not, and she was with the sick children.
Before the second child died, two more fell ill on the same day. Only Abel and Jan were still “about.” The mother moved like an automaton70, and never spoke. Now and then a deep sigh or a low moan would escape her, and the miller would move tenderly to her side, and say, “Bear up, missus; bear up, my lass,” and then go back to his pipe and his cherry-wood chair, where he seemed to grow gray as he sat.
Master Swift came from time to time to the mill. He was everywhere, helping71, comforting, and exhorting72. Some said his face shone with the light of another world, for which he was “marked.” Others whispered that the strain was telling on him, and that it wore the look it had had in the brief insanity73 which followed his child’s death. But all agreed that the very sight of him brought help and consolation74. The windmiller grew to watch for him, and to lean on him in the helplessness of his despair. And he listened humbly75 to the old man’s fervid76 religious counsels. His own little threads of philosophy were all blowing loose and useless in this storm of trouble.
The evening that Master Swift came up to arrange about the burial of the second child, he found the other two just dead. The first two had suffered much and been delirious77, but these two had sunk painlessly in a few hours, and had fallen asleep for the last time in each other’s arms.
It did not lessen78 the force of Master Swift’s somewhat stern consolations79 that in all good faith he conveyed in them an expectation that the Last Day was at hand. Many people thought so, and it was, perhaps, not unnatural80. In these days, which were long years of suffering, they were shut off from the rest of humanity, and the village was the world to them,—a world very near its end. With Death so busy, it seemed as if Judgment81 could hardly linger long.
It is true that this did not form a part of the Rector’s religious exhortations82. But some good people were shocked by the tea-party that he gave to the young people of the place, and the games that followed it in the Rectory meads, at the very height of the fever; though the doctor said it was better than a hogshead of medicine.
“To encourage low spirits in this panic is just to promote suicide, if ye like the responsibeelity of that,” said the doctor to Master Swift, who had confided83 his doubts as to the seemliness of the entertainment. “I tell ye there’s a lairge proportion of folk dies just because their neighbors have died before them, for the want of their attention being directed to something else. Away wi’ ye, schoolmaster, and take your tuning-fork to ask the blessing84 wi’. What says the Scripture85, man? ‘The living, the living, he shall praise Thee!’”
The doctor was a Scotchman, and Master Swift always listened with sympathy to a North countryman. He was convinced, too, and took his tuning-fork to the meals, and led the grace.
Nor could his expectation of the speedy end of all things restrain his instinctive86 anxiety and watchfulness87 for Jan’s health. On the evening of that visit to the mill, he used some little manoeuvring to accomplish Jan’s being sent back with him to the village, to arrange for the burial of the three children.
A glow of satisfaction suffused88 his rough face as he got Jan out of the tainted89 house into the fresh evening air, though it paled again before that other look which was now habitual90 to him, as, waving his hand towards the ripening91 corn-fields, he quoted from one of Mr. Herbert’s loftiest hymns,—
“We talk of harvests,—there are no such things,
But when we leave our corn and hay.
There is no fruitful year but that which brings
The last and loved, though dreadful Day.
Oh, show Thyself to me,
Or take me up to Thee!”
点击收听单词发音
1 sanitary | |
adj.卫生方面的,卫生的,清洁的,卫生的 | |
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2 inspector | |
n.检查员,监察员,视察员 | |
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3 inspectors | |
n.检查员( inspector的名词复数 );(英国公共汽车或火车上的)查票员;(警察)巡官;检阅官 | |
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4 pestilence | |
n.瘟疫 | |
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5 squire | |
n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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6 advent | |
n.(重要事件等的)到来,来临 | |
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7 cholera | |
n.霍乱 | |
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8 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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9 scourge | |
n.灾难,祸害;v.蹂躏 | |
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10 casually | |
adv.漠不关心地,无动于衷地,不负责任地 | |
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11 alluded | |
提及,暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 superfluous | |
adj.过多的,过剩的,多余的 | |
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13 sewer | |
n.排水沟,下水道 | |
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14 fable | |
n.寓言;童话;神话 | |
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15 remonstrance | |
n抗议,抱怨 | |
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16 devastating | |
adj.毁灭性的,令人震惊的,强有力的 | |
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17 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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18 decency | |
n.体面,得体,合宜,正派,庄重 | |
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19 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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20 calamity | |
n.灾害,祸患,不幸事件 | |
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21 portents | |
n.预兆( portent的名词复数 );征兆;怪事;奇物 | |
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22 plentiful | |
adj.富裕的,丰富的 | |
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23 plentifully | |
adv. 许多地,丰饶地 | |
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24 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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25 blight | |
n.枯萎病;造成破坏的因素;vt.破坏,摧残 | |
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26 calf | |
n.小牛,犊,幼仔,小牛皮 | |
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27 mimic | |
v.模仿,戏弄;n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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28 footpath | |
n.小路,人行道 | |
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29 coffined | |
vt.收殓(coffin的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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30 meridian | |
adj.子午线的;全盛期的 | |
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31 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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32 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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33 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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34 cowardice | |
n.胆小,怯懦 | |
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35 cordon | |
n.警戒线,哨兵线 | |
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36 rumor | |
n.谣言,谣传,传说 | |
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37 epidemic | |
n.流行病;盛行;adj.流行性的,流传极广的 | |
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38 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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39 tenants | |
n.房客( tenant的名词复数 );佃户;占用者;占有者 | |
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40 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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42 stolid | |
adj.无动于衷的,感情麻木的 | |
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43 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
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44 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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45 laboring | |
n.劳动,操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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46 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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47 reverent | |
adj.恭敬的,虔诚的 | |
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48 survivors | |
幸存者,残存者,生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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49 subscription | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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50 scourged | |
鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 ); 惩罚,压迫 | |
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51 virulence | |
n.毒力,毒性;病毒性;致病力 | |
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52 lulls | |
n.间歇期(lull的复数形式)vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的第三人称单数形式) | |
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53 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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54 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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55 defective | |
adj.有毛病的,有问题的,有瑕疵的 | |
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56 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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57 miller | |
n.磨坊主 | |
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58 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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59 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 | |
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60 witty | |
adj.机智的,风趣的 | |
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61 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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62 epidemics | |
n.流行病 | |
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63 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
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64 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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65 fret | |
v.(使)烦恼;(使)焦急;(使)腐蚀,(使)磨损 | |
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66 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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67 murky | |
adj.黑暗的,朦胧的;adv.阴暗地,混浊地;n.阴暗;昏暗 | |
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68 vapor | |
n.蒸汽,雾气 | |
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69 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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70 automaton | |
n.自动机器,机器人 | |
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71 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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72 exhorting | |
v.劝告,劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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73 insanity | |
n.疯狂,精神错乱;极端的愚蠢,荒唐 | |
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74 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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75 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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76 fervid | |
adj.热情的;炽热的 | |
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77 delirious | |
adj.不省人事的,神智昏迷的 | |
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78 lessen | |
vt.减少,减轻;缩小 | |
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79 consolations | |
n.安慰,慰问( consolation的名词复数 );起安慰作用的人(或事物) | |
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80 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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81 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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82 exhortations | |
n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 );极力推荐;(正式的)演讲;(宗教仪式中的)劝诫 | |
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83 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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84 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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85 scripture | |
n.经文,圣书,手稿;Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》,《圣经》中的一段 | |
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86 instinctive | |
adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
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87 watchfulness | |
警惕,留心; 警觉(性) | |
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88 suffused | |
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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89 tainted | |
adj.腐坏的;污染的;沾污的;感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 );使污染;败坏;被污染,腐坏,败坏 | |
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90 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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91 ripening | |
v.成熟,使熟( ripen的现在分词 );熟化;熟成 | |
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