The lowly train in life’s sequester’d scene;
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways.’
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.
We have lived in Pettybaw a very short time, but I see that we have already made an impression upon all grades of society. This was not our intention. We gave Edinburgh as our last place of residence, with the view of concealing2 our nationality, until such time as we should choose to declare it; that is, when public excitement with regard to our rental3 of the house in the loaning should have lapsed4 into a state of indifference5. And yet, modest, economical, and commonplace as has been the administration of our affairs, our method of life has evidently been thought unusual, and our conduct not precisely6 the conduct of other summer visitors. Even our daily purchases, in manner, in number, and in character, seem to be looked upon as eccentric, for whenever we leave a shop, the relatives of the greengrocer, flesher, draper, whoever it may be, bound downstairs, surround him in an eager circle, and inquire the latest news.
In an unwise moment we begged the draper’s wife to honour us with a visit and explain the obliquities of the kitchen range and the tortuosities of the sink-spout to Miss Grieve. While our landlady7 was on the premises8, I took occasion to invite her up to my own room, with a view of seeing whether my mattress9 of pebbles10 and iron-filings could be supplemented by another of shavings or straw, or some material less provocative11 of bodily injuries. She was most sympathetic, persuasive12, logical and after the manner of her kind proved to me conclusively14 that the trouble lay with the too-saft occupant of the bed, not with the bed itself, and gave me statistics with regard to the latter which established its reputation and at the same moment destroyed my own.
She looked in at the various doors casually15 as she passed up and down the stairs,—all save that of the dining-room, which Francesca had prudently17 locked to conceal1 the fact that we had covered the family portraits,—and I noticed at the time that her face wore an expression of mingled18 grief and astonishment19. It seemed to us afterward20 that there was a good deal more passing up and down the loaning than when we first arrived. At dusk especially, small processions of children and young people walked by our cottage and gave shy glances at the windows.
Finding Miss Grieve in an unusually amiable22 mood, I inquired the probable cause of this phenomenon. She would not go so far as to give any judicial23 opinion, but offered a few conjectures24.
It might be the tirling-pin; it might be the white satin ribbons on the curtains; it might be the guitars and banjos; it might be the bicycle crate25; it might be the profusion26 of plants; it might be the continual feasting and revelry; it might be the blazing fires in a Pettybaw summer. She thought a much more likely reason, however, was because it had become known in the village that we had moved every stick of furniture in the house out of its accustomed place and taken the dressing-tables away from the windows,—‘the windys,’ she called them.
I discussed this matter fully28 with Mr. Macdonald later on. He laughed heartily29, but confessed, with an amused relish30 of his national conservatism, that to his mind there certainly was something radical31, advanced, and courageous32 in taking a dressing-table away from its place, back to the window, and putting it anywhere else in a room. He would be frank, he said, and acknowledge that it suggested an undisciplined and lawless habit of thought, a disregard for authority, a lack of reverence33 for tradition, and a riotous34 and unbridled imagination.
“But why?” I asked laughingly. “The dressing-table is not a sacred object, even to a woman. Why treat it with such veneration37? Where there is but one good light, and that immediately in front of the window, there is every excuse for the British custom, but when the light is well diffused38, why not place the table where-ever it looks well?”
“Ah, but it doesn’t look well anywhere but back to the window,” said Mr. Macdonald artlessly. “It belongs there, you see; it has probably been there since the time of Malcolm Canmore, unless Margaret was too pious39 to look in a mirror. With your national love of change, you cannot conceive how soothing40 it is to know that whenever you enter your gate and glance upward, you will always see the curtains parted, and between them, like an idol41 in a shrine42, the ugly wooden back of a little oval or oblong looking-glass. It gives one a sense of permanence in a world where all is fleeting43.”
The public interest in our doings seems to be entirely44 of a friendly nature, and if our neighbours find a hundredth part of the charm and novelty in us that we find in them, they are fortunate indeed, and we cheerfully sacrifice our privacy on the altar of the public good.
A village in Scotland is the only place I can fancy where housekeeping becomes an enthralling45 occupation. All drudgery46 disappears in a rosy47 glow of unexpected, unique, and stimulating48 conditions. I would rather superintend Miss Grieve, and cause the light of amazement49 to gleam ten times daily in her humid eye, than lead a cotillion with Willie Beresford. I would rather do the marketing51 for our humble52 breakfasts and teas, or talk over the day’s luncheons54 and dinners with Mistress Brodie of the Pettybaw Inn and Posting Establishment, than go to the opera.
Salemina and Francesca do not enjoy it all quite as intensely as I, so they considerately give me the lion’s share. Every morning, after an exhilarating interview with the Niobe of our kitchen (who thinks me irresponsible, and prays Heaven in her heart I be no worse), I put on my goloshes, take my umbrella, and trudge55 up and down the little streets and lanes on real and, if need be, imaginary errands. The Duke of Wellington said, ‘When fair in Scotland, always carry an umbrella; when it rains, please yourself,’ and I sometimes agree with Stevenson’s shivering statement, ‘Life does not seem to me to be an amusement adapted to this climate.’ I quoted this to the doctor yesterday, but he remarked with some surprise that he had not missed a day’s golfing for weeks. The chemist observed as he handed me a cake of soap, ‘Won’erful blest in weather, we are, mam,’ simply because, the rain being unaccompanied with high wind, one was enabled to hold up an umbrella without having it turned inside out. When it ceased dripping for an hour at noon, the greengrocer said cheerily, ‘Another grand day, mam!’ I assented56, though I could not for the life of me remember when the last one occurred. However, dreary57 as the weather may be, one cannot be dull when doing one’s morning round of shopping in Pettybaw or Strathdee. I have only to give you thumb-nail sketches58 of our favourite tradespeople to convince you of that fact.
. . . .
We bought our first groceries of Mrs. Robert Phin, of Strathdee, simply because she is an inimitable conversationalist. She is expansive, too, about family matters, and tells us certain of her ‘mon’s’ faults which it would be more seemly to keep in the safe shelter of her own bosom59.
Rab takes a wee drappie too much, it appears, and takes it so often that he has little time to earn an honest penny for his family. This is bad enough; but the fact that Mrs. Phin has been twice wed60 before, and that in each case she innocently chose a ne’er-do-weel for a mate, makes her a trifle cynical62. She told me that she had laid twa husbands in the kirk-yard near which her little shop stands, and added cheerfully, as I made some sympathetic response, ‘An’ I hope it’ll no’ be lang afore I box Rab!’
Salemina objects to the shop because it is so disorderly. Soap and sugar, tea and bloaters, starch63 and gingham, lead pencils and sausages, lie side by side cosily64. Boxes of pins are kept on top of kegs of herrings. Tins of coffee are distributed impartially65 anywhere and everywhere, and the bacon sometimes reposes66 in a glass case with small-wares and findings, out of the reach of Alexander’s dogs.
Alexander is one of a brood, or perhaps I should say three broods, of children which wander among the barrels and boxes and hams and winceys seeking what they may devour,—a handful of sugar, a prune67, or a sweetie.
We often see the bairns at their luncheon53 or dinner in a little room just off the shop, Alexander the Small always sitting or kneeling on a ‘creepie,’ holding his plate down firmly with the left hand and eating with the right, whether the food be fish, porridge, or broth68. In the Phin family the person who does not hold his plate down runs the risk of losing it to one of the other children or to the dogs, who, with eager eye and reminding paw, gather round the hospitable69 board, licking their chops hopefully.
This morning Mrs. Phin greeted me with some embarrassment72.
“Maybe ye’ll no’ ken27 me,” she said, her usually clear speech a little blurred73. “It’s the teeth. I’ve mislaid ‘em somewhere. I paid far too much siller for ‘em to wear ‘em ilka day. Sometimes I rest ‘em in the teabox to keep ‘em awa’ frae the bairns, but I canna find ‘em theer. I’m thinkin’ maybe they’ll be in the rice, but I’ve been ower thrang to luik!”
This anecdote74 was too rich to keep to myself, but its unconscious humour made no impression upon Salemina, who insisted upon the withdrawal75 of our patronage76. I have tried to persuade her that, whatever may be said of tea and rice, we run no risk in buying eggs; but she is relentless77.
. . . .
The kirkyard where Rab’s two predecessors78 have been laid, and where Rab will lie when Mrs. Phin has ‘boxed’ him, is a sleepy little place set on a gentle slope of ground, softly shaded by willow79 and yew80 trees. It is enclosed by a stone wall, into which an occasional ancient tombstone is built, its name and date almost obliterated81 by stress of time and weather.
We often walk through its quiet, myrtle-bordered paths on our way to the other end of the village, where Mrs. Bruce, the flesher, keeps an unrivalled assortment82 of beef and mutton. The headstones, many of them laid flat upon the graves, are interesting to us because of their quaint83 inscriptions84, in which the occupation of the deceased is often stated with modest pride and candour. One expects to see the achievements of the soldier, the sailor, or the statesman carved in the stone that marks his resting-place, but to our eyes it is strange enough to read that the subject of eulogy85 was a plumber86, tobacconist, maker87 of golf-balls, or a golf champion; in which latter case there is a spirited etching or bas-relief of the dead hero, with knickerbockers, cap, and clubs complete.
There, too, lies Thomas Loughead, Hairdresser, a profession far too little celebrated88 in song and story. His stone is a simple one, and bears merely the touching89 tribute:—
He was lovely and pleasant in his life,
These kirkyard personalities91 almost lead one to believe in the authenticity92 of the British tradesman’s epitaph, wherein his practical-minded relict stated that the ‘bereaved widow would continue to carry on the tripe93 and trotter business at the old stand.’
. . . .
One day when we were walking through the little village of Strathdee we turned the corner of a quiet side street and came suddenly upon something altogether strange and unexpected.
A stone cottage of the everyday sort stood a trifle back from the road and bore over its front door a sign announcing that Mrs. Bruce, Flesher, carried on her business within; and indeed one could look through the windows and see ruddy joints94 hanging from beams, and piles of pink-and-white steaks and chops lying neatly95 on the counter, crying, ‘Come, eat me!’ Nevertheless, one’s first glance would be arrested neither by Mrs Bruce’s black-and-gold sign, nor by the enticements of her stock-in-trade, because one’s attention is rapped squarely between the eyes by an astonishing shape that arises from the patch of lawn in front of the cottage, and completely dominates the scene. Imagine yourself face to face with the last thing you would expect to see in a modest front dooryard,—the figurehead of a ship, heroic in size, gorgeous in colour, majestic96 in pose! A female personage it appears to be from the drapery, which is the only key the artist furnishes as to sex, and a queenly female withal, for she wears a crown at least a foot high, and brandishes97 a forbidding sceptre. All this seen from the front, but the rear view discloses the fact that the lady terminates in the tail of a fish which wriggles98 artistically99 in mid-air and is of a brittle100 sort, as it has evidently been thrice broken and glued together.
Mrs Bruce did not leave us long in suspense101, but obligingly came out, partly to comment on the low price of mutton and partly to tell the tale of the mammoth102 mermaid103. By rights, of course, Mrs. Bruce’s husband should have been the gallant104 captain of a bark which foundered105 at sea and sent every man to his grave on the ocean-bed. The ship’s figurehead should have been discovered by some miracle, brought to the sorrowing widow, and set up in the garden in eternal remembrance of the dear departed. This was the story in my mind, but as a matter of fact the rude effigy106 was wrought107 by Mrs. Bruce’s father for a ship to be called the Sea Queen, but by some mischance, ship and figurehead never came together, and the old wood-carver left it to his daughter, in lieu of other property. It has not been wholly unproductive, Mrs. Bruce fancies, for the casual passers-by, like those who came to scoff108 and remained to pray, go into the shop to ask questions about the Sea Queen and buy chops out of courtesy and gratitude109.
. . . .
On our way to the bakery, which is a daily walk with us, we always glance at a little cot in a grassy111 lane just off the fore61 street. In one half of this humble dwelling112 Mrs. Davidson keeps a slender stock of shop-worn articles,—pins, needles, threads, sealing-wax, pencils, and sweeties for the children, all disposed attractively upon a single shelf behind the window.
Across the passage, close to the other window, sits day after day an old woman of eight-six summers who has lost her kinship with the present and gone back to dwell for ever in the past. A small table stands in front of her rush-bottomed chair, the old family Bible rests upon it, and in front of the Bible are always four tiny dolls, with which the trembling old fingers play from morning till night. They are cheap, common little puppets, but she robes and disrobes them with tenderest care. They are put to bed upon the Bible, take their walks along its time-worn pages, are married on it, buried on it, and the direst punishment they ever receive is to be removed from its sacred covers and temporarily hidden beneath the dear old soul’s black alpaca apron113. She is quite happy with her treasures on week-days; but on Sundays—alas and alas! the poor old dame114 sits in her lonely chair with the furtive115 tears dropping on her wrinkled cheeks, for it is a God-fearing household, and it is neither lawful116 nor seemly to play with dolls on the Sawbath!
. . . .
Mrs. Nicolson is the presiding genius of the bakery, she is more—she is the bakery itself. A Mr. Nicolson there is, and he is known to be the baker110, but he dwells in the regions below the shop and only issues at rare intervals117, beneath the friendly shelter of a huge tin tray filled with scones118 and baps.
If you saw Mrs. Nicolson’s kitchen with the firelight gleaming on its bright copper119, its polished candlesticks, and its snowy floor, you would think her an admirable housewife, but you would get no clue to those shrewd and masterful traits of character which reveal themselves chiefly behind the counter.
Miss Grieve had purchased of Mrs. Nicolson a quarter section of very appetising ginger-cake to eat with our afternoon tea, and I stepped in to buy more. She showed me a large round loaf for two shillings.
“No,” I objected, “I cannot use a whole loaf, thank you. We eat very little at a time, and like it perfectly120 fresh. I wish a small piece such as my maid bought the other day.”
Then ensued a discourse121 which I cannot render in the vernacular122, more’s the pity, though I understood it all too well for my comfort. The substance of it was this: that she couldna and wouldna tak’ it in hand to give me a quarter section of cake when the other three-quarters might gae dry in the bakery; that the reason she sold the small piece on the former occasion was that her daughter, her son-in-law, and their three children came from Ballahoolish to visit her, and she gave them a high tea with no expense spared; that at this function they devoured123 three-fourths of a ginger-cake, and just as she was mournfully regarding the remainder my servant came in and took it off her hands; that she had kept a bakery for thirty years and her mother before her, and never had a two-shilling ginger-cake been sold in pieces before, nor was it likely ever to occur again; that if I, under Providence124, so to speak, had been the fortunate gainer by the transaction, why not eat my six penny-worth in solemn gratitude once for all, and not expect a like miracle to happen the next week? And finally, that two-shilling ginger-cakes were, in the very nature of things, designed for large families; and it was the part of wisdom for small families to fix their affections on something else, for she couldna and wouldna tak’ it in hand to cut a rare and expensive article for a small customer.
“Verra weel, mam,” she responded more affably, “thank you kindly127; no, I couldna tak’ it in hand to sell six pennyworth of that ginger-cake and let one-and-sixpence worth gae dry in the bakery.—A beautiful day, mam! Won’erful blest in weather ye are! Let me open your umbrella for you, mam!”
. . . .
David Robb is the weaver128 of Pettybaw. All day long he sits at his old-fashioned hand-loom129, which, like the fruit of his toil130 and the dear old greybeard himself, belongs to a day that is past and gone.
He might have work enough to keep an apprentice131 busy, but where would he find a lad sufficiently132 behind the times to learn a humble trade now banished133 to the limbo134 of superseded135, almost forgotten things?
His home is but a poor place, but the rough room in which he works is big enough to hold a deal of sweet content. It is cheery enough, too, to attract the Pettybaw weans, who steal in on wet days and sit on the floor playing with the thrums, or with bits of coloured ravellings. Sometimes when they have proved themselves wise and prudent16 little virgins136, they are even allowed to touch the hanks of pink and yellow and blue yarn137 that lie in rainbow-hued confusion on the long deal table.
All this time the ‘heddles’ go up and down, up and down, with their ceaseless clatter138, and David throws the shuttle back and forth139 as he weaves his old-fashioned winceys.
We have grown to be good friends, David and I, and I have been permitted the signal honour of painting him at his work.
The loom stands by an eastern window, and the rare Pettybaw sunshine filters through the branches of a tree, shines upon the dusty window-panes, and throws a halo round David’s head that he well deserves and little suspects. In my foreground sit Meg and Jean and Elspeth playing with thrums and wearing the fruit of David’s loom in their gingham frocks. David himself sits on his wooden bench behind the maze50 of cords that form the ‘loom harness.’
The snows of seventy winters powder his hair and beard. His spectacles are often pushed back on his kindly brow, but no glass could wholly obscure the clear integrity and steadfast140 purity of his eyes; and as for his smile, I have not the art to paint that! It holds in solution so many sweet though humble virtues141 of patience, temperance, self-denial, honest endeavour, that my brush falters142 in the attempt to fix the radiant whole upon the canvas. Fashions come and go, modern improvements transform the arts and trades, manual skill gives way to the cunning of the machine, but old David Robb, after more than fifty years of toil, still sits at his hand-loom and weaves his winceys for the Pettybaw bairnies.
David has small book-learning, so he tells me; and indeed he had need to tell me, for I should never have discovered it myself,—one misses it so little when the larger things are all present!
A certain summer visitor in Pettybaw (a compatriot of ours, by the way) bought a quantity of David’s orange-coloured wincey, and finding that it wore like iron, wished to order more. She used the word ‘reproduce’ in her telegram, as there was one pattern and one colour she specially21 liked. Perhaps the context was not illuminating143, but at any rate the word ‘reproduce’ was not in David’s vocabulary, and putting back his spectacles he told me his difficulty in deciphering the exact meaning of his fine-lady patron. He called at the Free Kirk manse,—the meenister was no’ at hame; then to the library,—it was closed; then to the Estaiblished manse,—the meenister was awa’. At last he obtained a glance at the schoolmaster’s dictionary, and turning to ‘reproduce’ found that it meant ‘nought but mak’ ower again’;—and with an amused smile at the bedevilments of language he turned once more to his loom and I to my canvas.
Notwithstanding his unfamiliarity144 with ‘langnebbit’ words, David has absorbed a deal of wisdom in his quiet life; though so far as I can see, his only books have been the green tree outside his window, a glimpse of the distant ocean, and the toil of his hands.
But I sometimes question if as many scholars are not made as marred145 in this wise, for—to the seeing eye—the waving leaf and the far sea, the daily task, one’s own heart-beats, and one’s neighbour’s,—these teach us in good time to interpret Nature’s secrets, and man’s, and God’s as well.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
concealing
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
rental
|
|
| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
lapsed
|
|
| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
landlady
|
|
| n.女房东，女地主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
mattress
|
|
| n.床垫，床褥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
pebbles
|
|
| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
provocative
|
|
| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
persuasive
|
|
| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
conclusively
|
|
| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
prudently
|
|
| adv. 谨慎地，慎重地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
judicial
|
|
| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
conjectures
|
|
| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
crate
|
|
| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
profusion
|
|
| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
ken
|
|
| n.视野，知识领域 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
relish
|
|
| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
reverence
|
|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
riotous
|
|
| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
veneration
|
|
| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
diffused
|
|
| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
idol
|
|
| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
shrine
|
|
| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
fleeting
|
|
| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
enthralling
|
|
| 迷人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
drudgery
|
|
| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
stimulating
|
|
| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
marketing
|
|
| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
luncheons
|
|
| n.午餐，午宴( luncheon的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
trudge
|
|
| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
wed
|
|
| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
fore
|
|
| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
starch
|
|
| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
cosily
|
|
| adv.舒适地，惬意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
impartially
|
|
| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
reposes
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
prune
|
|
| n.酶干；vt.修剪，砍掉，削减；vi.删除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
broth
|
|
| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
anecdote
|
|
| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
withdrawal
|
|
| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
patronage
|
|
| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
relentless
|
|
| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
predecessors
|
|
| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
willow
|
|
| n.柳树 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
yew
|
|
| n.紫杉属树木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
obliterated
|
|
| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
assortment
|
|
| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
inscriptions
|
|
| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
eulogy
|
|
| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
plumber
|
|
| n.(装修水管的)管子工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
maker
|
|
| n.制造者，制造商 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
scripture
|
|
| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
personalities
|
|
| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
authenticity
|
|
| n.真实性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
tripe
|
|
| n.废话，肚子, 内脏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
brandishes
|
|
| v.挥舞( brandish的第三人称单数 )；炫耀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
wriggles
|
|
| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
artistically
|
|
| adv.艺术性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
brittle
|
|
| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
mammoth
|
|
| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
mermaid
|
|
| n.美人鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
foundered
|
|
| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
effigy
|
|
| n.肖像 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
scoff
|
|
| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
baker
|
|
| n.面包师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
furtive
|
|
| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
lawful
|
|
| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
scones
|
|
| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
copper
|
|
| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
vernacular
|
|
| adj.地方的，用地方语写成的；n.白话；行话；本国语；动植物的俗名 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
devoured
|
|
| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
weaver
|
|
| n.织布工；编织者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
loom
|
|
| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
apprentice
|
|
| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
limbo
|
|
| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
superseded
|
|
| [医]被代替的，废弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
virgins
|
|
| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
yarn
|
|
| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
steadfast
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
falters
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的第三人称单数 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
illuminating
|
|
| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
unfamiliarity
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
marred
|
|
| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |