Let us attempt, in a mood half sportive and half thoughtful, to track these imaginary heirs of our mortality, through their first day’s experience. No longer ago than yesterday the flame of human life was extinguished; there has been a breathless night; and now another morn approaches, expecting to find the earth no less desolate18 than at eventide.
It is dawn. The east puts on its immemorial blush, although no human eye is gazing at it; for all the phenomena19 of the natural world renew themselves, in spite of the solitude20 that now broods around the globe. There is still beauty of earth, sea, and sky, for beauty’s sake. But soon there are to be spectators. Just when the earliest sunshine gilds21 earth’s mountain-tops, two beings have come into life, not in such an Eden as bloomed to welcome our first parents, but in the heart of a modern city. They find themselves in existence, and gazing into one another’s eyes. Their emotion is not astonishment22; nor do they perplex themselves with efforts to discover what, and whence, and why they are. Each is satisfied to be, because the other exists likewise; and their first consciousness is of calm and mutual23 enjoyment24, which seems not to have been the birth of that very moment, but prolonged from a past eternity25. Thus content with an inner sphere which they inhabit together, it is not immediately that the outward world can obtrude26 itself upon their notice.
Soon, however, they feel the invincible27 necessity of this earthly life, and begin to make acquaintance with the objects and circumstances that surround them. Perhaps no other stride so vast remains28 to be taken as when they first turn from the reality of their mutual glance to the dreams and shadows that perplex them everywhere else.
“Sweetest Eve, where are we?” exclaims the new Adam; for speech, or some equivalent mode of expression, is born with them, and comes just as natural as breath. “Methinks I do not recognize this place.”
“Nor I, dear Man,” replies the new Eve. “And what a strange place, too! Let me come closer to thy side and behold29 thee only; for all other sights trouble and perplex my spirit.”
“Nay, Eve,” replies Adam, who appears to have the stronger tendency towards the material world; “it were well that we gain some insight into these matters. We are in an odd situation here. Let us look about us.”
Assuredly there are sights enough to throw the new inheritors of earth into a state of hopeless perplexity. The long lines of edifices30, their windows glittering in the yellow sunrise, and the narrow street between, with its barren pavement tracked and battered32 by wheels that have now rattled33 into an irrevocable past! The signs, with their unintelligible34 hieroglyphics35! The squareness and ugliness, and regular or irregular deformity of everything that meets the eye! The marks of wear and tear, and unrenewed decay, which distinguish the works of man from the growth of nature! What is there in all this, capable of the slightest significance to minds that know nothing of the artificial system which is implied in every lamp-post and each brick of the houses? Moreover, the utter loneliness and silence, in a scene that originally grew out of noise and bustle36, must needs impress a feeling of desolation even upon Adam and Eve, unsuspicious as they are of the recent extinction37 of human existence. In a forest, solitude would be life; in a city, it is death.
The new Eve looks round with a sensation of doubt and distrust, such as a city dame38, the daughter of numberless generations of citizens, might experience if suddenly transported to the garden of Eden. At length her downcast eye discovers a small tuft of grass, just beginning to sprout39 among the stones of the pavement; she eagerly grasps it, and is sensible that this little herb awakens40 some response within her heart. Nature finds nothing else to offer her. Adam, after staring up and down the street without detecting a single object that his comprehension can lay hold of, finally turns his forehead to the sky. There, indeed, is something which the soul within him recognizes.
“Look up yonder, mine own Eve,” he cries; “surely we ought to dwell among those gold-tinged clouds or in the blue depths beyond them. I know not how nor when, but evidently we have strayed away from our home; for I see nothing hereabouts that seems to belong to us.”
“Can we not ascend42 thither43?” inquires Eve.
“Why not?” answers Adam, hopefully. “But no; something drags us down in spite of our best efforts. Perchance we may find a path hereafter.”
In the energy of new life it appears no such impracticable feat44 to climb into the sky. But they have already received a woful lesson, which may finally go far towards reducing them to the level of the departed race, when they acknowledge the necessity of keeping the beaten track of earth. They now set forth45 on a ramble46 through the city, in the hope of making their escape from this uncongenial sphere. Already in the fresh elasticity47 of their spirits they have found the idea of weariness. We will watch them as they enter some of the shops and public or private edifices; for every door, whether of alderman or beggar, church or hall of state, has been flung wide open by the same agency that swept away the inmates48.
It so happens — and not unlucklily for an Adam and Eve who are still in the costume that might better have befitted Eden — it so happens that their first visit is to a fashionable dry-goods store. No courteous49 and importunate50 attendants hasten to receive their orders; no throng51 of ladies are tossing over the rich Parisian fabrics53. All is deserted; trade is at a stand-still; and not even an echo of the national watchword, “Go ahead!” disturbs the quiet of the new customers. But specimens54 of the latest earthly fashions, silks of every shade, and whatever is most delicate or splendid for the decoration of the human form, he scattered55 around, profusely56 as bright autumnal leaves in a forest. Adam looks at a few of the articles, but throws them carelessly aside with whatever exclamation57 may correspond to “Pish!” or “Pshaw!” in the new vocabulary of nature. Eve, however — be it said without offence to her native modesty58 — examines these treasures of her sex with somewhat livelier interest. A pair of corsets chance to be upon the counter; she inspects them curiously59, but knows not what to make of them. Then she handles a fashionable silk with dim yearnings, thoughts that wander hither and thither, instincts groping in the dark.
“On the whole, I do not like it,” she observes, laying the glossy60 fabric52 upon the counter. “But, Adam, it is very strange. What can these things mean? Surely I ought to know; yet they put me in a perfect maze61.”
“Poh! my dear Eve, why trouble thy little head about such nonsense?” cries Adam, in a fit of impatience62. “Let us go somewhere else. But stay; how very beautiful! My loveliest Eve, what a charm you have imparted to that robe by merely throwing it over your shoulders!”
For Eve, with the taste that nature moulded into her composition, has taken a remnant of exquisite63 silver gauze and drawn64 it around her forms, with an effect that gives Adam his first idea of the witchery of dress. He beholds65 his spouse66 in a new light and with renewed admiration67; yet is hardly reconciled to any other attire68 than her own golden locks. However, emulating69 Eve’s example, he makes free with a mantle70 of blue velvet71, and puts it on so picturesquely72 that it might seem to have fallen from heaven upon his stately figure. Thus garbed73 they go in search of new discoveries.
They next wander into a Church, not to make a display of their fine clothes, but attracted by its spire75 pointing upwards76 to the sky, whither they have already yearned77 to climb. As they enter the portal, a clock, which it was the last earthly act of the sexton to wind up, repeats the hour in deep reverberating78 tones; for Time has survived his former progeny79, and, with the iron tongue that man gave him, is now speaking to his two grandchildren. They listen, but understand him not. Nature would measure time by the succession of thoughts and acts which constitute real life, and not by hours of emptiness. They pass up the church-aisle, and raise their eyes to the ceiling. Had our Adam and Eve become mortal in some European city, and strayed into the vastness and sublimity80 of an old cathedral, they might have recognized the purpose for which the deep-souled founders81 reared it. Like the dim awfulness of an ancient forest, its very atmosphere would have incited82 them to prayer. Within the snug83 walls of a metropolitan84 church there can be no such influence.
Yet some odor of religion is still lingering here, the bequest85 of pious86 souls, who had grace to enjoy a foretaste of immortal87 life. Perchance they breathe a prophecy of a better world to their successors, who have become obnoxious88 to all their own cares and calamities89 in the present one.
“Eve, something impels90 me to look upward,” says Adam; “but it troubles me to see this roof between us and the sky. Let us go forth, and perhaps we shall discern a Great Face looking down upon us.”
“Yes; a Great Face, with a beam of love brightening over it, like sunshine,” responds Eve. “Surely we have seen such a countenance91 somewhere.”
They go out of the church, and kneeling at its threshold give way to the spirit’s natural instinct of adoration92 towards a beneficent Father. But, in truth, their life thus far has been a continual prayer. Purity and simplicity hold converse93 at every moment with their Creator.
We now observe them entering a Court of Justice. But what remotest conception can they attain94 of the purposes of such an edifice31? How should the idea occur to them that human brethren, of like nature with themselves, and originally included in the same law of love which is their only rule of life, should ever need an outward enforcement of the true voice within their souls? And what, save a woful experience, the dark result of many centuries, could teach them the sad mysteries of crime? O Judgment95 Seat, not by the pure in heart vast thou established, nor in the simplicity of nature; but by hard and wrinkled men, and upon the accumulated heap of earthly wrong. Thou art the very symbol of man’s perverted state.
On as fruitless an errand our wanderers next visit a Hall of Legislature, where Adam places Eve in the Speaker’s chair, unconscious of the moral which he thus exemplifies. Man’s intellect, moderated by Woman’s tenderness and moral sense! Were such the legislation of the world there would be no need of State Houses, Capitols, Halls of Parliament, nor even of those little assemblages of patriarchs beneath the shadowy trees, by whom freedom was first interpreted to mankind on our native shores.
Whither go they next? A perverse96 destiny seems to perplex them with one after another of the riddles97 which mankind put forth to the wandering universe, and left unsolved in their own destruction. They enter an edifice of stern gray stone standing98 insulated in the midst of others, and gloomy even in the sunshine, which it barely suffers to penetrate99 through its iron grated windows. It is a prison. The jailer has left his post at the summons of a stronger authority than the sheriff’s. But the prisoners? Did the messenger of fate, when he shook open all the doors, respect the magistrate’s warrant and the judge’s sentence, and leave the inmates of the dungeons100 to be delivered by due course of earthly law? No; a new trial has been granted in a higher court, which may set judge, jury, and prisoner at its bar all in a row, and perhaps find one no less guilty than another. The jail, like the whole earth, is now a solitude, and has thereby101 lost something of its dismal102 gloom. But here are the narrow cells, like tombs, only drearier103 and deadlier, because in these the immortal spirit was buried with the body. Inscriptions104 appear on the walls, scribbled105 with a pencil or scratched with a rusty106 nail; brief words of agony, perhaps, or guilt’s desperate defiance107 to the world, or merely a record of a date by which the writer strove to keep up with the march of life. There is not a living eye that could now decipher these memorials.
Nor is it while so fresh from their Creator’s hand that the new denizens108 of earth — no, nor their descendants for a thousand years — could discover that this edifice was a hospital for the direst disease which could afflict110 their predecessors. Its patients bore the outward marks of that leprosy with which all were more or less infected. They were sick-and so were the purest of their brethren — with the plague of sin. A deadly sickness, indeed! Feeling its symptoms within the breast, men concealed112 it with fear and shame, and were only the more cruel to those unfortunates whose pestiferous sores were flagrant to the common eye. Nothing save a rich garment could ever hide the plague-spot. In the course of the world’s lifetime, every remedy was tried for its cure and extirpation113, except the single one, the flower that grew in Heaven and was sovereign for all the miseries114 of earth. Man never had attempted to cure sin by LOVE! Had he but once made the effort, it might well have happened that there would have been no more need of the dark lazar-house into which Adam and Eve have wandered. Hasten forth with your native innocence115, lest the damps of these still conscious walls infect you likewise, and thus another fallen race be propagated!
Passing from the interior of the prison into the space within its outward wall, Adam pauses beneath a structure of the simplest contrivance, yet altogether unaccountable to him. It consists merely of two upright posts, supporting a transverse beam, from which dangles116 a cord.
“Eve, Eve!” cries Adam, shuddering118 with a nameless horror. “What can this thing be?”
“I know not,” answers Eve; “but, Adam, my heart is sick! There seems to be no more sky — no more sunshine!”
Well might Adam shudder117 and poor Eve be sick at heart; for this mysterious object was the type of mankind’s whole system in regard to the great difficulties which God had given to be solved — a system of fear and vengeance119, never successful, yet followed to the last. Here, on the morning when the final summons came, a criminal — one criminal, where none were guiltless — had died upon the gallows120. Had the world heard the footfall of its own approaching doom, it would have been no inappropriate act thus to close the record of its deeds by one so characteristic.
The two pilgrims now hurry from the prison. Had they known how the former inhabitants of earth were shut up in artificial error and cramped121 and chained by their perversions122, they might have compared the whole moral world to a prison-house, and have deemed the removal of the race a general jail-delivery.
They next enter, unannounced, but they might have rung at the door in vain, a private mansion123, one of the stateliest in Beacon124 Street. A wild and plaintive125 strain of music is quivering through the house, now rising like a solemn organ-peal126, and now dying into the faintest murmur127, as if some spirit that had felt an interest in the departed family were bemoaning128 itself in the solitude of hall and chamber129. Perhaps a virgin130, the purest of mortal race, has been left behind to perform a requiem131 for the whole kindred of humanity. Not so. These are the tones of an Eolian harp132, through which Nature pours the harmony that lies concealed in her every breath, whether of summer breeze or tempest. Adam and Eve are lost in rapture133, unmingled with surprise. The passing wind, that stirred the harp-strings, has been hushed, before they can think of examining the splendid furniture, the gorgeous carpets, and the architecture of the rooms. These things amuse their unpractised eyes, but appeal to nothing within their hearts. Even the pictures upon the walls scarcely excite a deeper interest; for there is something radically134 artificial and deceptive135 in painting with which minds in the primal136 simplicity cannot sympathize. The unbidden guests examine a row of family portraits, but are too dull to recognize them as men and women, beneath the disguise of a preposterous137 garb74, and with features and expression debased, because inherited through ages of moral and physical decay.
Chance, however, presents them with pictures of human beauty, fresh from the hand of Nature. As they enter a magnificent apartment they are astonished, but not affrighted, to perceive two figures advancing to meet them. Is it not awful to imagine that any life, save their own, should remain in the wide world?
“How is this?” exclaims Adam. “My beautiful Eve, are you in two places at once?”
“And you, Adam!” answers Eve, doubtful, yet delighted. “Surely that noble and lovely form is yours. Yet here you are by my side. I am content with one — methinks there should not be two.”
This miracle is wrought138 by a tall looking-glass, the mystery of which they soon fathom139, because Nature creates a mirror for the human face in every pool of water, and for her own great features in waveless lakes. Pleased and satisfied with gazing at themselves, they now discover the marble statue of a child in a corner of the room so exquisitely140 idealized that it is almost worthy141 to be the prophetic likeness142 of their first-born. Sculpture, in its highest excellence143, is more genuine than painting, and might seem to be evolved from a natural germ, by the same law as a leaf or flower. The statue of the child impresses the solitary144 pair as if it were a companion; it likewise hints at secrets both of the past and future.
“My husband!” whispers Eve.
“What would you say, dearest Eve?” inquires Adam.
“I wonder if we are alone in the world,” she continues, “with a sense of something like fear at the thought of other inhabitants. This lovely little form! Did it ever breathe? Or is it only the shadow of something real, like our pictures in the mirror?”
“It is strange!” replies Adam, pressing his hand to his brow. “There are mysteries all around us. An idea flits continually before me — would that I could seize it! Eve, Eve, are we treading in the footsteps of beings that bore a likeness to ourselves? If so, whither are they gone? — and why is their world so unfit for our dwelling-place?”
“Our great Father only knows,” answers Eve. “But something tells me that we shall not always be alone. And how sweet if other beings were to visit us in the shape of this fair image!”
Then they wander through the house, and everywhere find tokens of human life, which now, with the idea recently suggested, excite a deeper curiosity in their bosoms145. Woman has here left traces of her delicacy146 and refinement147, and of her gentle labors148. Eve ransacks149 a work-basket and instinctively150 thrusts the rosy111 tip of her finger into a thimble. She takes up a piece of embroidery151, glowing with mimic152 flowers, in one of which a fair damsel of the departed race has left her needle. Pity that the Day of Doom should have anticipated the completion of such a useful task! Eve feels almost conscious of the skill to finish it. A pianoforte has been left open. She flings her hand carelessly over the keys, and strikes out a sudden melody, no less natural than the strains of the AEolian harp, but joyous153 with the dance of her yet unburdened life. Passing through a dark entry they find a broom behind the door; and Eve, who comprises the whole nature of womanhood, has a dim idea that it is an instrument proper for her hand. In another apartment they behold a canopied154 bed, and all the appliances of luxurious155 repose156. A heap of forest-leaves would be more to the purpose. They enter the nursery, and are perplexed157 with the sight of little gowns and caps, tiny slices, and a cradle, amid the drapery of which is still to be seen the impress of a baby’s form. Adam slightly notices these trifles; but Eve becomes involved in a fit of mute reflection from which it is hardly possible to rouse her.
By a most unlucky arrangement there was to have been a grand dinner-party in this mansion on the very day when the whole human family, including the invited guests, were summoned to the unknown regions of illimitable space. At the moment of fate, the table was actually spread, and the company on the point of sitting down. Adam and Eve come unbidden to the banquet; it has now been some time cold, but otherwise furnishes them with highly favorable specimens of the gastronomy158 of their predecessors. But it is difficult to imagine the perplexity of the unperverted couple, in endeavoring to find proper food for their first meal, at a table where the cultivated appetites of a fashionable party were to have been gratified. Will Nature teach them the mystery of a plate of turtle-soup? Will she embolden159 them to attack a haunch of venison? Will she initiate160 them into the merits of a Parisian pasty, imported by the last steamer that ever crossed the Atlantic? Will she not, rather, bid them turn with disgust from fish, fowl161, and flesh, which, to their pure nostrils162, steam with a loathsome163 odor of death and corruption164? — Food? The bill of fare contains nothing which they recognize as such.
Fortunately, however, the dessert is ready upon a neighboring table. Adam, whose appetite and animal instincts are quicker than those of Eve, discovers this fitting banquet.
“Here, dearest Eve,” he exclaims — “here is food.”
“Well,” answered she, with the germ of a housewife stirring within her, “we have been so busy today, that a picked-up dinner must serve.”
So Eve comes to the table and receives a red-cheeked apple from her husband’s hand in requital165 of her predecessor’s fatal gift to our common grandfather. She eats it without sin, and, let us hope, with no disastrous166 consequences to her future progeny. They make a plentiful167, yet temperate168, meal of fruit, which, though not gathered in paradise, is legitimately169 derived170 from the seeds that were planted there. Their primal appetite is satisfied.
“What shall we drink, Eve?” inquires Adam.
Eve peeps among some bottles and decanters, which, as they contain fluids, she naturally conceives must be proper to quench172 thirst. But never before did claret, hock, and madeira, of rich and rare perfume, excite such disgust as now.
“Pah!” she exclaims, after smelling at various wines. “What stuff is here? The beings who have gone before us could not have possessed173 the same nature that we do; for neither their hunger nor thirst were like our own.”
“Pray hand me yonder bottle,” says Adam. “If it be drinkable by any manner of mortal, I must moisten my throat with it.”
After some remonstrances174, she takes up a champagne175 bottle, but is frightened by the sudden explosion of the cork176, and drops it upon the floor. There the untasted liquor effervesces177. Had they quaffed178 it they would have experienced that brief delirium179 whereby, whether excited by moral or physical causes, man sought to recompense himself for the calm, life-long joys which he had lost by his revolt from nature. At length, in a refrigerator, Eve finds a glass pitcher180 of water, pure, cold, and bright as ever gushed181 from a fountain among the hills. Both drink; and such refreshment182 does it bestow183, that they question one another if this precious liquid be not identical with the stream of life within them.
“And now,” observes Adam, “we must again try to discover what sort of a world this is, and why we have been sent hither.”
“Why? to love one another,” cries Eve. “Is not that employment enough?”
“Truly is it,” answers Adam, kissing her; “but still — I know not — something tells us there is labor17 to be done. Perhaps our allotted184 task is no other than to climb into the sky, which is so much more beautiful than earth.”
“Then would we were there now,” murmurs185 Eve, “that no task or duty might come between us!”
They leave the hospitable186 mansion, and we next see them passing down State Street. The clock on the old State House points to high noon, when the Exchange should be in its glory and present the liveliest emblem187 of what was the sole business of life, as regarded a multitude of the foregone worldlings. It is over now. The Sabbath of eternity has shed its stillness along the street. Not even a newsboy assails188 the two solitary passers-by with an extra penny-paper from the office of the Times or Mail, containing a full account of yesterday’s terrible catastrophe189. Of all the dull times that merchants and speculators have known, this is the very worst; for, so far as they were concerned, creation itself has taken the benefit of the Bankrupt Act. After all, it is a pity. Those mighty190 capitalists who had just attained191 the wished-for wealth! Those shrewd men of traffic who had devoted192 so many years to the most intricate and artificial of sciences, and had barely mastered it when the universal bankruptcy193 was announced by peal of trumpet194! Can they have been so incautious as to provide no currency of the country whither they have gone, nor any bills of exchange, or letters of credit from the needy195 on earth to the cash-keepers of heaven?
Adam and Eve enter a Bank. Start not, ye whose funds are treasured there! You will never need them now. Call not for the police. The stones of the street and the coin of the vaults196 are of equal value to this simple pair. Strange sight! They take up the bright gold in handfuls and throw it sportively into the air for the sake of seeing the glittering worthlessness descend109 again in a shower. They know not that each of those small yellow circles was once a magic spell, potent198 to sway men’s hearts and mystify their moral sense. Here let them pause in the investigation199 of the past. They have discovered the mainspring, the life, the very essence of the system that had wrought itself into the vitals of mankind, and choked their original nature in its deadly gripe. Yet how powerless over these young inheritors of earth’s hoarded200 wealth! And here, too, are huge, packages of back-notes, those talismanic201 slips of paper which once had the efficacy to build up enchanted202 palaces like exhalations, and work all kinds of perilous203 wonders, yet were themselves but the ghosts of money, the shadows of a shade. How like is this vault197 to a magician’s cave when the all-powerful wand is broken, and the visionary splendor204 vanished, and the floor strewn with fragments of shattered spells, and lifeless shapes, once animated205 by demons206!
“Everywhere, my dear Eve,” observes Adam, “we find heaps of rubbish of one kind or another. Somebody, I am convinced, has taken pains to collect them, but for what purpose? Perhaps, hereafter, we shall be moved to do the like. Can that be our business in the world?”
“O no, no, Adam!” answers Eve. “It would be better to sit down quietly and look upward to tine sky.”
They leave the Bank, and in good time; for had they tarried later they would probably have encountered some gouty old goblin of a capitalist, whose soul could not long be anywhere save in the vault with his treasure.
Next they drop into a jeweller’s shop. They are pleased with the glow of gems207; and Adam twines208 a string of beautiful pearls around the head of Eve, and fastens his own mantle with a magnificent diamond brooch. Eve thanks him, and views herself with delight, in the nearest looking-glass. Shortly afterward209, observing a bouquet210 of roses and other brilliant flowers in a vase of water, she flings away the inestimable pearls, and adorns211 herself with these lovelier gems of nature. They charm her with sentiment as well as beauty.
“Surely they are living beings,” she remarks to Adam.
“I think so,” replies Adam, “and they seem to be as little at home in the world as ourselves.”
We must not attempt to follow every footstep of these investigators212 whom their Creator has commissioned to pass unconscious judgment upon the works and ways of the vanished race. By this time, being endowed with quick and accurate perceptions, they begin to understand the purpose of the many things around them. They conjecture213, for instance, that the edifices of the city were erected214, not by the immediate15 hand that made the world, but by beings somewhat similar to themselves, for shelter and convenience. But how will they explain the magnificence of one habitation as compared with the squalid misery215 of another? Through what medium can the idea of servitude enter their minds? When will they comprehend the great and miserable216 fact — the evidences of which appeal to their senses everywhere — that one portion of earth’s lost inhabitants was rolling in luxury while the multitude was toiling217 for scanty218 food? A wretched change, indeed, must be wrought in their own hearts ere they can conceive the primal decree of Love to have been so completely abrogated219, that a brother should ever want what his brother had. When their intelligence shah have reached so far, Earth’s new progeny will have little reason to exult220 over her old rejected one.
Their wanderings have now brought them into the suburbs of the city, They stand on a grassy221 brow of a hill at the foot of a granite222 obelisk223 which points its great finger upwards, as if the human family had agreed, by a visible symbol of age-long endurance, to offer some high sacrifice of thanksgiving or supplication224. The solemn height of the monument, its deep simplicity, and the absence of any vulgar and practical use, all strengthen its effect upon Adam and Eve, and leave them to interpret it by a purer sentiment than the builders thought of expressing.
“Eve, it is a visible prayer,” observed Adam.
“And we will pray too,” she replies.
Let us pardon these poor children of neither father nor mother for so absurdly mistaking the purport225 of the memorial which man founded and woman finished on far-famed Bunker Hill. The idea of war is not native to their souls. Nor have they sympathies for the brave defenders226 of liberty, since oppression is one of their unconjectured mysteries. Could they guess that the green sward on which they stand so peacefully was once strewn with human corpses227 and purple with their blood, it would equally amaze them that one generation of men should perpetrate such carnage, and that a subsequent generation should triumphantly228 commemorate229 it.
With a sense of delight they now stroll across green fields and along the margin230 of a quiet river. Not to track them too closely, we next find the wanderers entering a Gothic edifice of gray stone, where the bygone world has left whatever it deemed worthy of record, in the rich library of Harvard University.
No student ever yet enjoyed such solitude and silence as now broods within its deep alcoves231. Little do the present visitors understand what opportunities are thrown away upon them. Yet Adam looks anxiously at the long rows of volumes, those storied heights of human lore232, ascending233 one above another from floor to ceiling. He takes up a bulky folio. It opens in his hands as if spontaneously to impart the spirit of its author to the yet unworn and untainted intellect of the fresh-created mortal. He stands poring over the regular columns of mystic characters, seemingly in studious mood; for the unintelligible thought upon the page has a mysterious relation to his mind, and makes itself felt as if it were a burden flung upon him. He is even painfully perplexed, and grasps vainly at he knows not what. O Adam, it is too soon, too soon by at least five thousand years, to put on spectacles and bury yourself in the alcoves of a library!
“What can this be?” he murmurs at last. “Eve, methinks nothing is so desirable as to find out the mystery of this big and heavy object with its thousand thin divisions. See! it stares me in the face as if it were about to speak!”
Eve, by a feminine instinct, is dipping into a volume of fashionable poetry, the production certainly the most fortunate of earthly bards234, since his lay continues in vogue235 when all the great masters of the lyre have passed into oblivion. But let not, his ghost be too exultant236! The world’s one lady tosses the book upon the floor and laughs merrily at her husband’s abstracted mien237.
“My dear Adam,” cries she, “you look pensive238 and dismal. Do fling down that stupid thing; for even if it should speak it would not be worth attending to. Let us talk with one another, and with the sky, and the green earth, and its trees and flowers. They will teach us better knowledge than we can find here.”
“Well, Eve, perhaps you are right,” replies Adam, with a sort of sigh. “Still I cannot help thinking that the interpretation of the riddles amid which we have been wandering all day long might here be discovered.”
“It may be better not to seek the interpretation,” persists Eve. “For my part, the air of this place does not suit me. If you love me, come away!”
She prevails, and rescues him from the mysterious perils239 of the library. Happy influence of woman! Had he lingered there long enough to obtain a clew to its treasures — as was not impossible, his intellect being of human structure, indeed, but with an untransmitted vigor240 and acuteness — had he then and there become a student, the annalist of our poor world would soon have recorded the downfall of a second Adam. The fatal apple of another Tree of knowledge would have been eaten. All the perversions, and sophistries241, and false wisdom so aptly mimicking242 the true — all the narrow truth, so partial that it becomes more deceptive than falsehood — all the wrong principles and worse practice, the pernicious examples and mistaken rules of life — all the specious243 theories which turn earth into cloudland and men into shadows — all the sad experience which it took mankind so many ages to accumulate, and from which they never drew a moral for their future guidance, the whole heap of this disastrous lore would have tumbled at once upon Adam’s head. There would have been nothing left for him but to take up the already abortive244 experiment of life where he had dropped it, and toil onward245 with it a little farther.
But, blessed in his ignorance, he may still enjoy a new world in our worn-out one. Should he fall short of good, even as far as we did, he has at least the freedom — no worthless one — to make errors for himself. And his literature, when the progress of centuries shall create it, will be no interminably repeated echo of our own poetry and reproduction of the images that were moulded by our great fathers of song and fiction, but a melody never yet heard on earth, and intellectual forms unbreathed upon by our conceptions. Therefore let the dust of ages gather upon the volumes of the library, and in due season the roof of the edifice crumble246 down upon the whole. When the second Adam’s descendants shall have collected as much rubbish of their own, it will be time enough to dig into our ruins and compare the literary advancement247 of two independent races.
But we are looking forward too far. It seems to be the vice248 of those who have a long past behind them. We will return to the new Adam and Eve, who, having no reminiscences save dim and fleeting249 visions of a preexistence, are content to live and be happy in the present.
The day is near its close when these pilgrims, who derive171 their being from no dead progenitors250, reach the cemetery251 of Mount Auburn. With light hearts — for earth and sky now gladden each other with beauty — they tread along the winding252 paths, among marble pillars, mimic temples, urns41, obelisks253, and sarcophagi, sometimes pausing to contemplate254 these fantasies of human growth, and sometimes to admire the flowers wherewith nature converts decay to loveliness. Can Death, in the midst of his old triumphs, make them sensible that they have taken up the heavy burden of mortality which a whole species had thrown down? Dust kindred to their own has never lain in the grave. Will they then recognize, and so soon, that Time and the elements have an indefeasible claim upon their bodies? Not improbably they may. There must have been shadows enough, even amid the primal sunshine of their existence, to suggest the thought of the soul’s incongruity255 with its circumstances. They have already learned that something is to be thrown aside. The idea of Death is in them, or not far off. But, were they to choose a symbol for him, it would be the butterfly soaring upward, or the bright angel beckoning256 them aloft, or the child asleep, with soft dreams visible through her transparent257 purity.
Such a Child, in whitest marble, they have found among the monuments of Mount Auburn.
“Sweetest Eve,” observes Adam, while hand in hand they contemplate this beautiful object, “yonder sun has left us, and the whole world is fading from our sight. Let us sleep as this lovely little figure is sleeping. Our Father only knows whether what outward things we have possessed today are to be snatched from us forever. But should our earthly life be leaving us with the departing light, we need not doubt that another morn will find us somewhere beneath the smile of God. I feel that he has imparted the boon258 of existence never to be resumed.”
“And no matter where we exist,” replies Eve, “for we shall always be together.”
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perverted
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adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 );腐蚀;败坏;使堕落 | |
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crafty
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adj.狡猾的,诡诈的 | |
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wholesome
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adj.适合;卫生的;有益健康的;显示身心健康的 | |
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lessen
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vt.减少,减轻;缩小 | |
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fetters
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n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 );束缚v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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partially
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adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
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interpretation
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n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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doom
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n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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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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accomplished
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adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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toil
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vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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cultivation
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n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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deserted
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adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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predecessors
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n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 );前辈;(被取代的)原有事物;前身 | |
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immediate
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adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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simplicity
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n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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labor
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n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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desolate
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adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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phenomena
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n.现象 | |
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solitude
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n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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gilds
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把…镀金( gild的第三人称单数 ); 给…上金色; 作多余的修饰(反而破坏原已完美的东西); 画蛇添足 | |
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astonishment
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n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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mutual
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adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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enjoyment
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n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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eternity
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n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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obtrude
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v.闯入;侵入;打扰 | |
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invincible
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adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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remains
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n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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behold
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v.看,注视,看到 | |
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edifices
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n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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edifice
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n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
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battered
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adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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rattled
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慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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unintelligible
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adj.无法了解的,难解的,莫明其妙的 | |
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hieroglyphics
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n.pl.象形文字 | |
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bustle
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v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
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extinction
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n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
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dame
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n.女士 | |
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sprout
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n.芽,萌芽;vt.使发芽,摘去芽;vi.长芽,抽条 | |
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awakens
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v.(使)醒( awaken的第三人称单数 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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urns
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n.壶( urn的名词复数 );瓮;缸;骨灰瓮 | |
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ascend
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vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
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thither
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adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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feat
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n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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forth
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adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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ramble
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v.漫步,漫谈,漫游;n.漫步,闲谈,蔓延 | |
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elasticity
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n.弹性,伸缩力 | |
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48
inmates
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n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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49
courteous
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adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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50
importunate
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adj.强求的;纠缠不休的 | |
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51
throng
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n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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52
fabric
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n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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fabrics
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织物( fabric的名词复数 ); 布; 构造; (建筑物的)结构(如墙、地面、屋顶):质地 | |
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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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55
scattered
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adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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56
profusely
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ad.abundantly | |
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57
exclamation
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n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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58
modesty
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n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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59
curiously
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adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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60
glossy
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adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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61
maze
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n.迷宫,八阵图,混乱,迷惑 | |
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62
impatience
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n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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63
exquisite
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adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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64
drawn
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v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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65
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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66
spouse
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n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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admiration
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n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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68
attire
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v.穿衣,装扮[同]array;n.衣着;盛装 | |
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69
emulating
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v.与…竞争( emulate的现在分词 );努力赶上;计算机程序等仿真;模仿 | |
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70
mantle
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n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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71
velvet
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n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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picturesquely
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73
garbed
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v.(尤指某类人穿的特定)服装,衣服,制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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garb
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n.服装,装束 | |
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spire
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n.(教堂)尖顶,尖塔,高点 | |
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upwards
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adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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77
yearned
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渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reverberating
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回响,回荡( reverberate的现在分词 ); 使反响,使回荡,使反射 | |
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progeny
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n.后代,子孙;结果 | |
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sublimity
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崇高,庄严,气质高尚 | |
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founders
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n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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incited
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刺激,激励,煽动( incite的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
snug
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adj.温暖舒适的,合身的,安全的;v.使整洁干净,舒适地依靠,紧贴;n.(英)酒吧里的私房 | |
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84
metropolitan
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adj.大城市的,大都会的 | |
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bequest
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n.遗赠;遗产,遗物 | |
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86
pious
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adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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87
immortal
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adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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88
obnoxious
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adj.极恼人的,讨人厌的,可憎的 | |
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89
calamities
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n.灾祸,灾难( calamity的名词复数 );不幸之事 | |
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90
impels
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v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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91
countenance
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n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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92
adoration
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n.爱慕,崇拜 | |
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93
converse
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vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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94
attain
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vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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95
judgment
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n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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96
perverse
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adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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97
riddles
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n.谜(语)( riddle的名词复数 );猜不透的难题,难解之谜 | |
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98
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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99
penetrate
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v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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100
dungeons
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n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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101
thereby
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adv.因此,从而 | |
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102
dismal
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adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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103
drearier
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使人闷闷不乐或沮丧的( dreary的比较级 ); 阴沉的; 令人厌烦的; 单调的 | |
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104
inscriptions
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(作者)题词( inscription的名词复数 ); 献词; 碑文; 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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105
scribbled
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v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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106
rusty
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adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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107
defiance
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n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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108
denizens
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n.居民,住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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109
descend
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vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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110
afflict
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vt.使身体或精神受痛苦,折磨 | |
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111
rosy
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adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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112
concealed
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a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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113
extirpation
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n.消灭,根除,毁灭;摘除 | |
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114
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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115
innocence
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n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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116
dangles
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悬吊着( dangle的第三人称单数 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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117
shudder
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v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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118
shuddering
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v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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119
vengeance
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n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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120
gallows
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n.绞刑架,绞台 | |
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121
cramped
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a.狭窄的 | |
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122
perversions
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n.歪曲( perversion的名词复数 );变坏;变态心理 | |
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mansion
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n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
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124
beacon
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n.烽火,(警告用的)闪火灯,灯塔 | |
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125
plaintive
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adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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126
peal
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n.钟声;v.鸣响 | |
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127
murmur
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n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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128
bemoaning
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v.为(某人或某事)抱怨( bemoan的现在分词 );悲悼;为…恸哭;哀叹 | |
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129
chamber
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n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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130
virgin
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n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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131
requiem
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n.安魂曲,安灵曲 | |
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132
harp
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n.竖琴;天琴座 | |
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133
rapture
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n.狂喜;全神贯注;着迷;v.使狂喜 | |
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134
radically
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ad.根本地,本质地 | |
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135
deceptive
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adj.骗人的,造成假象的,靠不住的 | |
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136
primal
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adj.原始的;最重要的 | |
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137
preposterous
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adj.荒谬的,可笑的 | |
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138
wrought
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v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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139
fathom
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v.领悟,彻底了解 | |
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140
exquisitely
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adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
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141
worthy
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adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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142
likeness
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n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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143
excellence
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n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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144
solitary
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adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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145
bosoms
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胸部( bosom的名词复数 ); 胸怀; 女衣胸部(或胸襟); 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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146
delicacy
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n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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147
refinement
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n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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148
labors
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v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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149
ransacks
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v.彻底搜查( ransack的第三人称单数 );抢劫,掠夺 | |
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150
instinctively
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adv.本能地 | |
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151
embroidery
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n.绣花,刺绣;绣制品 | |
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152
mimic
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v.模仿,戏弄;n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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153
joyous
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adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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154
canopied
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adj. 遮有天篷的 | |
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155
luxurious
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adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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156
repose
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v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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157
perplexed
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adj.不知所措的 | |
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158
gastronomy
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n.美食法;美食学 | |
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159
embolden
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v.给…壮胆,鼓励 | |
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160
initiate
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vt.开始,创始,发动;启蒙,使入门;引入 | |
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161
fowl
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n.家禽,鸡,禽肉 | |
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162
nostrils
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鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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163
loathsome
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adj.讨厌的,令人厌恶的 | |
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164
corruption
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n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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165
requital
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n.酬劳;报复 | |
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166
disastrous
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adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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167
plentiful
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adj.富裕的,丰富的 | |
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168
temperate
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adj.温和的,温带的,自我克制的,不过分的 | |
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169
legitimately
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ad.合法地;正当地,合理地 | |
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170
derived
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vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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171
derive
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v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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172
quench
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vt.熄灭,扑灭;压制 | |
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173
possessed
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adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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174
remonstrances
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n.抱怨,抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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175
champagne
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n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
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176
cork
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n.软木,软木塞 | |
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177
effervesces
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v.冒气泡,起泡沫( effervesce的第三人称单数 ) | |
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178
quaffed
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v.痛饮( quaff的过去式和过去分词 );畅饮;大口大口将…喝干;一饮而尽 | |
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179
delirium
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n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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180
pitcher
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n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐;(棒球)投手 | |
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181
gushed
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v.喷,涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 );滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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182
refreshment
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n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
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183
bestow
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v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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184
allotted
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分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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185
murmurs
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n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 );低语声;怨言;嘀咕 | |
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186
hospitable
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adj.好客的;宽容的;有利的,适宜的 | |
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187
emblem
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n.象征,标志;徽章 | |
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188
assails
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v.攻击( assail的第三人称单数 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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189
catastrophe
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n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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190
mighty
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adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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191
attained
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(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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192
devoted
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adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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193
bankruptcy
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n.破产;无偿付能力 | |
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194
trumpet
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n.喇叭,喇叭声;v.吹喇叭,吹嘘 | |
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195
needy
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adj.贫穷的,贫困的,生活艰苦的 | |
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196
vaults
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n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 );地下室;撑物跳高;墓穴 | |
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197
vault
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n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
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198
potent
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adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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199
investigation
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n.调查,调查研究 | |
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200
hoarded
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v.积蓄并储藏(某物)( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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201
talismanic
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adj.护身符的,避邪的 | |
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202
enchanted
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adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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203
perilous
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adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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204
splendor
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n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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205
animated
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adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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206
demons
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n.恶人( demon的名词复数 );恶魔;精力过人的人;邪念 | |
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207
gems
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growth; economy; management; and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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208
twines
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n.盘绕( twine的名词复数 );麻线;捻;缠绕在一起的东西 | |
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209
afterward
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adv.后来;以后 | |
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210
bouquet
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n.花束,酒香 | |
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211
adorns
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装饰,佩带( adorn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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212
investigators
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n.调查者,审查者( investigator的名词复数 ) | |
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213
conjecture
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n./v.推测,猜测 | |
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214
ERECTED
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adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
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215
misery
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n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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216
miserable
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adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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217
toiling
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长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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218
scanty
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adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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219
abrogated
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废除(法律等)( abrogate的过去式和过去分词 ); 取消; 去掉; 抛开 | |
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220
exult
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v.狂喜,欢腾;欢欣鼓舞 | |
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221
grassy
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adj.盖满草的;长满草的 | |
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222
granite
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adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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223
obelisk
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n.方尖塔 | |
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224
supplication
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n.恳求,祈愿,哀求 | |
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225
purport
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n.意义,要旨,大要;v.意味著,做为...要旨,要领是... | |
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226
defenders
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n.防御者( defender的名词复数 );守卫者;保护者;辩护者 | |
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227
corpses
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n.死尸,尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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228
triumphantly
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ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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229
commemorate
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vt.纪念,庆祝 | |
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230
margin
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n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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231
alcoves
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n.凹室( alcove的名词复数 );(花园)凉亭;僻静处;壁龛 | |
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232
lore
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n.传说;学问,经验,知识 | |
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233
ascending
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adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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234
bards
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n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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235
Vogue
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n.时髦,时尚;adj.流行的 | |
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236
exultant
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adj.欢腾的,狂欢的,大喜的 | |
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237
mien
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n.风采;态度 | |
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238
pensive
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a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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239
perils
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极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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240
vigor
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n.活力,精力,元气 | |
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241
sophistries
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n.诡辩术( sophistry的名词复数 );(一次)诡辩 | |
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242
mimicking
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v.(尤指为了逗乐而)模仿( mimic的现在分词 );酷似 | |
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243
specious
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adj.似是而非的;adv.似是而非地 | |
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244
abortive
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adj.不成功的,发育不全的 | |
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245
onward
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adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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246
crumble
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vi.碎裂,崩溃;vt.弄碎,摧毁 | |
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247
advancement
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n.前进,促进,提升 | |
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248
vice
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n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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249
fleeting
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adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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250
progenitors
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n.祖先( progenitor的名词复数 );先驱;前辈;原本 | |
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251
cemetery
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n.坟墓,墓地,坟场 | |
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252
winding
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n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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253
obelisks
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n.方尖石塔,短剑号,疑问记号( obelisk的名词复数 ) | |
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254
contemplate
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vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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255
incongruity
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n.不协调,不一致 | |
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256
beckoning
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adj.引诱人的,令人心动的v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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257
transparent
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adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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258
boon
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n.恩赐,恩物,恩惠 | |
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