From infancy1 I was under the guardianship2 of a village parson, who made me the subject of daily prayer and the sufferer of innumerable stripes, using no distinction, as to these marks of paternal4 love, between myself and his own three boys. The result, it must be owned, has been very different in their cases and mine, they being all respectable men and well settled in life; the eldest5 as the successor to his father’s pulpit, the second as a physician, and the third as a partner in a wholesale6 shoe-store; while I, with better prospects7 than either of them, have run the course which this volume will describe. Yet there is room for doubt whether I should have been any better contented8 with such success as theirs than with my own misfortunes — at least, till after my experience of the latter had made it too late for another trial.
My guardian3 had a name of considerable eminence10, and fitter for the place it occupies in ecclesiastical history than for so frivolous11 a page as mine. In his own vicinity, among the lighter12 part of his hearers, he was called Parson Thumpcushion, from the very forcible gestures with which he illustrated13 his doctrines14. Certainly, if his powers as a preacher were to be estimated by the damage done to his pulpit-furniture, none of his living brethren, and but few dead ones, would have been worthy16 even to pronounce a benediction17 after him. Such pounding and expounding18 the moment he began to grow warm, such slapping with his open palm, thumping19 with his closed fist, and banging with the whole weight of the great Bible, convinced me that he held, in imagination, either the Old Nick or some Unitarian infidel at bay, and belabored20 his unhappy cushion as proxy22 for those abominable23 adversaries24. Nothing but this exercise of the body while delivering his sermons could have supported the good parson’s health under the mental toil25 which they cost him in composition.
Though Parson Thumpcushion had an upright heart, and some called it a warm one, he was invariably stern and severe, on principle, I suppose, to me. With late justice, though early enough, even now, to be tinctured with generosity26 I acknowledge him to have been a good and wise man after his own fashion. If his management failed as to myself, it succeeded with his three sons; nor, I must frankly27 say, could any mode of education with which it was possible for him to be acquainted have made me much better than what I was or led me to a happier fortune than the present. He could neither change the nature that God gave me nor adapt his own inflexible28 mind to my peculiar29 character. Perhaps it was my chief misfortune that I had neither father nor mother alive; for parents have an instinctive30 sagacity in regard to the welfare of their children, and the child feels a confidence both in the wisdom and affection of his parents which he cannot transfer to any delegate of their duties, however conscientious31. An orphan’s fate is hard, be he rich or poor. As for Parson Thumpcushion, whenever I see the old gentleman in my dreams he looks kindly32 and sorrowfully at me, holding out his hand as if each had something to forgive. With such kindness and such forgiveness, but without the sorrow, may our next meeting be!
I was a youth of gay and happy temperament34, with an incorrigible35 levity36 of spirit, of no vicious propensities37, sensible enough, but wayward and fanciful. What a character was this to be brought in contact with the stern old Pilgrim spirit of my guardian! We were at variance39 on a thousand points; but our chief and final dispute arose from the pertinacity40 with which he insisted on my adopting a particular profession; while I, being heir to a moderate competence41, had avowed42 my purpose of keeping aloof43 from the regular business of life. This would have been a dangerous resolution anywhere in the world; it was fatal in New England. There is a grossness in the conceptions of my countrymen; they will not be convinced that any good thing may consist with what they call idleness; they can anticipate nothing but evil of a young man who neither studies physic, law, nor gospel, nor opens a store, nor takes to farming, but manifests an incomprehensible disposition44 to be satisfied with what his father left him. The principle is excellent in its general influence, but most miserable45 in its effect on the few that violate it. I had a quick sensitiveness to public opinion, and felt as if it ranked me with the tavern46 haunters and town paupers47 — with the drunken poet who hawked48 his own Fourth of July odes, and the broken soldier who had been good for nothing since last war. The consequence of all this was a piece of light-hearted desperation.
I do not over-estimate my notoriety when I take it for granted that many of my readers must have heard of me in the wild way of life which I adopted. The idea of becoming a wandering story-teller had been suggested, a year or two before, by an encounter with several merry vagabonds in a showman’s wagon49, where they and I had sheltered ourselves during a summer shower. The project was not more extravagant50 than most which a young man forms. Stranger ones are executed every day; and, not to mention my prototypes in the East, and the wandering orators51 and poets whom my own ears have heard, I had the example of one illustrious itinerant52 in the other hemisphere — of Goldsmith, who planned and performed his travels through France and Italy on a less promising53 scheme than mine. I took credit to myself for various qualifications, mental and personal, suited to the undertaking54. Besides, my mind had latterly tormented55 me for employment, keeping up an irregular activity even in sleep, and making me conscious that I must toil, if it were but in catching56 butterflies. But my chief motives57 were, discontent with home and a bitter grudge58 against Parson Thumpcushion, who would rather have laid me in my father’s tomb than seen me either a novelist or an actor, two characters which I thus hit upon a method of uniting. After all, it was not half so foolish as if I had written romances instead of reciting them.
The following pages will contain a picture of my vagrant59 life, intermixed with specimens61, generally brief and slight, of that great mass of fiction to which I gave existence, and which has vanished like cloud-shapes. Besides the occasions when I sought a pecuniary63 reward, I was accustomed to exercise my narrative64 faculty65 wherever chance had collected a little audience idle enough to listen. These rehearsals66 were useful in testing the strong points of my stories; and, indeed, the flow of fancy soon came upon me so abundantly that its indulgence was its own reward, though the hope of praise also became a powerful incitement67. Since I shall never feel the warm gush68 of new thought as I did then, let me beseech69 the reader to believe that my tales were not always so cold as he may find them now. With each specimen60 will be given a sketch70 of the circumstances in which the story was told. Thus my air-drawn pictures will be set in frames perhaps more valuable than the pictures themselves, since they will be embossed with groups of characteristic figures, amid the lake and mountain scenery, the villages and fertile fields, of our native land. But I write the book for the sake of its moral, which many a dreaming youth may profit by, though it is the experience of a wandering story-teller.
A Flight in the Fog.
I set out on my rambles72 one morning in June about sunrise. The day promised to be fair, though at that early hour a heavy mist lay along the earth and settled in minute globules on the folds of my clothes, so that I looked precisely73 as if touched with a hoar-frost. The sky was quite obscured, and the trees and houses invisible till they grew out of the fog as I came close upon them. There is a hill towards the west whence the road goes abruptly74 down, holding a level course through the village and ascending75 an eminence on the other side, behind which it disappears. The whole view comprises an extent of half a mile. Here I paused; and, while gazing through the misty76 veil, it partially77 rose and swept away with so sudden an effect that a gray cloud seemed to have taken the aspect of a small white town. A thin vapor78 being still diffused79 through the atmosphere, the wreaths and pillars of fog, whether hung in air or based on earth, appeared not less substantial than the edifices81, and gave their own indistinctness to the whole. It was singular that such an unromantic scene should look so visionary.
Half of the parson’s dwelling82 was a dingy83 white house, and half of it was a cloud; but Squire84 Moody’s mansion85, the grandest in the village, was wholly visible, even the lattice-work of the balcony under the front window; while in another place only two red chimneys were seen above the mist, appertaining to my own paternal residence, then tenanted by strangers. I could not remember those with whom I had dwelt there, not even my mother. The brick edifice80 of the bank was in the clouds; the foundations of what was to be a great block of buildings had vanished, ominously86, as it proved; the dry-goods store of Mr. Nightingale seemed a doubtful concern; and Dominicus Pike’s tobacco manufactory an affair of smoke, except the splendid image of an Indian chief in front. The white spire88 of the meeting-house ascended89 out of the densest90 heap of vapor, as if that shadowy base were its only support: or, to give a truer interpretation91, the steeple was the emblem92 of Religion, enveloped93 in mystery below, yet pointing to a cloudless atmosphere, and catching the brightness of the east on its gilded94 vane.
As I beheld95 these objects, and the dewy street, with grassy96 intervals97 and a border of trees between the wheeltrack and the sidewalks, all so indistinct, and not to be traced without an effort, the whole seemed more like memory than reality. I would have imagined that years had already passed, and I was far away, contemplating98 that dim picture of my native place, which I should retain in my mind through the mist of time. No tears fell from my eyes among the dewdrops of the morning; nor does it occur to me that I heaved a sigh. In truth, I had never felt such a delicious excitement nor known what freedom was till that moment when I gave up my home and took the whole world in exchange, fluttering the wings of my spirit as if I would have flown from one star to another through the universe. I waved my hand towards the dusky village, bade it a joyous99 farewell, and turned away to follow any path but that which might lead me back. Never was Childe Harold’s sentiment adopted in a spirit more unlike his own.
Naturally enough, I thought of Don Quixote. Recollecting100 how the knight101 and Sancho had watched for auguries102 when they took the road to Toboso, I began, between jest and earnest, to feel a similar anxiety. It was gratified, and by a more poetical103 phenomenon than the braying104 of the dappled ass62 or the neigh of Rosinante. The sun, then just above the horizon, shone faintly through the fog, and formed a species of rainbow in the west, bestriding my intended road like a gigantic portal. I had never known before that a bow could be generated between the sunshine and the morning mist. It had no brilliancy, no perceptible hues105, but was a mere106 unpainted framework, as white and ghostlike as the lunar rainbow, which is deemed ominous87 of evil. But, with a light heart, to which all omens107 were propitious108, I advanced beneath the misty archway of futurity.
I had determined109 not to enter on my profession within a hundred miles of home, and then to cover myself with a fictitious110 name. The first precaution was reasonable enough, as otherwise Parson Thumpcushion might have put an untimely catastrophe111 to my story; but as nobody would be much affected112 by my disgrace, and all was to be suffered in my own person, I know not why I cared about a name. For a week or two I travelled almost at random113, seeking hardly any guidance except the whirling of a leaf at, some turn of the road, or the green bough114 that beckoned115 me, or the naked branch that pointed116 its withered117 finger onward118. All my care was to be farther from home each night than the preceding morning.
A Fellow-Traveller.
One day at noontide, when the sun had burst suddenly out of a cloud, and threatened to dissolve me, I looked round for shelter, whether of tavern, cottage, barn, or shady tree. The first which offered itself was a wood — not a forest, but a trim plantation119 of young oaks, growing just thick enough to keep the mass of sunshine out, while they admitted a few straggling beams, and thus produced the most cheerful gloom imaginable. A brook120, so small and clear, and apparently121 so cool, that I wanted to drink it up, ran under the road through a little arch of stone without once meeting the sun in its passage from the shade on one side to the shade on the other. As there was a stepping-place over the stone wall and a path along the rivulet122, I followed it and discovered its source — a spring gushing123 out of an old barrel.
In this pleasant spot I saw a light pack suspended from the branch of a tree, a stick leaning against the trunk, and a person seated on the grassy verge124 of the spring, with his back towards me. He was a slender figure, dressed in black broadcloth, which was none of the finest nor very fashionably cut. On hearing my footsteps he started up rather nervously125, and, turning round, showed the face of a young man about my own age, with his finger in a volume which he had been reading till my intrusion. His book was evidently a pocket Bible. Though I piqued126 myself at that period on my great penetration127 into people’s characters and pursuits, I could not decide whether this young man in black were an unfledged divine from Andover, a college student, or preparing for college at some academy. In either case I would quite as willingly have found a merrier companion; such, for instance, as the comedian128 with whom Gil Blas shared his dinner beside a fountain in Spain.
After a nod, which was duly returned, I made a goblet129 of oak-leaves, filled and emptied it two or three times, and then remarked, to hit the stranger’s classical associations, that this beautiful fountain ought to flow from an urn15 instead of an old barrel. He did not show that he understood the allusion130, and replied very briefly131, with a shyness that was quite out of place between persons who met in such circumstances. Had he treated my next observation in the same way, we should have parted without another word.
“It is very singular,” said I — “though doubtless there are good reasons for it — that Nature should provide drink so abundantly, and lavish132 it everywhere by the roadside, but so seldom anything to eat. Why should not we find a loaf of bread on this tree as well as a barrel of good liquor at the foot of it?”
“There is a loaf of bread on the tree,” replied the stranger, without even smiling — at a coincidence which made me laugh. “I have something to eat in my bundle; and, if you can make a dinner with me, you shall be welcome.”
“I accept your offer with pleasure,” said I. “A pilgrim such as I am must not refuse a providential meal.”
The young man had risen to take his bundle from the branch of the tree, but now turned round and regarded me with great earnestness, coloring deeply at the same time. However, he said nothing, and produced part of a loaf of bread and some cheese, the former being evidently home baked, though some days out of the oven. The fare was good enough, with a real welcome, such as his appeared to be. After spreading these articles on the stump133 of a tree, he proceeded to ask a blessing134 on our food, an unexpected ceremony, and quite an impressive one at our woodland table, with the fountain gushing beside us and the bright sky glimmering135 through the boughs136; nor did his brief petition affect me less because his embarrassment137 made his voice tremble. At the end of the meal he returned thanks with the same tremulous fervor138.
He felt a natural kindness for me after thus relieving my necessities, and showed it by becoming less reserved. On my part, I professed139 never to have relished140 a dinner better; and, in requital141 of the stranger’s hospitality, solicited142 the pleasure of his company to supper.
“Where? At your home?” asked he.
“Yes,” said I, smiling.
“Perhaps our roads are not the same,” observed he.
“O, I can take any road but one, and yet not miss my way,” answered I. “This morning I breakfasted at home; I shall sup at home to-night; and a moment ago I dined at home. To be sure, there was a certain place which I called home; but I have resolved not to see it again till I have been quite round the globe and enter the street on the east as I left it on the west. In the mean time, I have a home everywhere, or nowhere, just as you please to take it.”
“Nowhere, then; for this transitory world is not our home,” said the young man, with solemnity. “We are all pilgrims and wanderers; but it is strange that we two should meet.”
I inquired the meaning of this remark, but could obtain no satisfactory reply. But we had eaten salt together, and it was right that we should form acquaintance after that ceremony as the Arabs of the desert do, especially as he had learned something about myself, and the courtesy of the country entitled me to as much information in return. I asked whither he was travelling.
“I do not know,” said he; “but God knows.”
“That is strange!” exclaimed I; “not that God should know it, but that you should not. And how is your road to be pointed out?”
“Perhaps by an inward conviction,” he replied, looking sideways at me to discover whether I smiled; “perhaps by an outward sign.”
“Then, believe me,” said I, “the outward sign is already granted you, and the inward conviction ought to follow. We are told of pious143 men in old times who committed themselves to the care of Providence144, and saw the manifestation145 of its will in the slightest circumstances, as in the shooting of a star, the flight of a bird, or the course taken by some brute146 animal. Sometimes even a stupid ass was their guide. May I not be as good a one?”
“I do not know,” said the pilgrim, with perfect simplicity147.
We did, however, follow the same road, and were not overtaken, as I partly apprehended148, by the keepers of any lunatic asylum149 in pursuit of a stray patient. Perhaps the stranger felt as much doubt of my sanity150 as I did of his, though certainly with less justice, since I was fully33 aware of my own extravagances, while he acted as wildly, and deemed it heavenly wisdom. We were a singular couple, strikingly contrasted, yet curiously151 assimilated, each of us remarkable152 enough by himself, and doubly so in the other’s company. Without any formal compact, we kept together day after day till our union appeared permanent. Even had I seen nothing to love and admire in him, I could never have thought of deserting one who needed me continually; for I never knew a person; not even a woman, so unfit to roam the world in solitude153 as he was — so painfully shy, so easily discouraged by slight obstacles, and so often depressed154 by a weight within himself.
I was now far from my native place, but had not yet stepped before the public. A slight tremor155 seized me whenever I thought of relinquishing156 the immunities157 of a private character, and giving every man, and for money too, the right which no man yet possessed158, of treating me with open scorn. But about a week after contracting the above alliance I made my bow to an audience of nine persons, seven of whom hissed159 me in a very disagreeable manner, and not without good cause. Indeed, the failure was so signal that it would have been mere swindling to retain the money, which had been paid on my implied contract to give its value of amusement. So I called in the doorkeeper, bade him refund160 the whole receipts, a mighty161 sum and was gratified with a round of applause by way of offset162 to the hisses163. This event would have looked most horrible in anticipation164 — a thing to make a man shoot himself, or run amuck165, or hide himself in caverns166 where he might not see his own burning blush; but the reality was not so very hard to bear. It is a fact that I was more deeply grieved by an almost parallel misfortune which happened to my companion on the same evening. In my own behalf I was angry and excited, not depressed; my blood ran quick, my spirits rose buoyantly, and I had never felt such a confidence of future success and determination to achieve it as at that trying moment. I resolved to persevere167, if it were only to wring168 the reluctant praise from my enemies.
Hitherto I had immensely underrated the difficulties of my idle trade; now I recognized that it demanded nothing short of my whole powers cultivated to the utmost, and exerted with the same prodigality169 as if I were speaking for a great party or for the nation at large on the floor of the Capitol. No talent or attainment170 could come amiss; everything, indeed, was requisite171 — wide observation, varied172 knowledge, deep thoughts, and sparkling ones; pathos173 and levity, and a mixture of both, like sunshine in a raindrop; lofty imagination, veiling itself in the garb174 of common life; and the practised art which alone could render these gifts, and more than these, available. Not that I ever hoped to be thus qualified175. But my despair was no ignoble176 one; for, knowing the impossibility of satisfying myself, even should the world be satisfied, I did my best to overcome it; investigated the causes of every defect; and strove, with patient stubbornness, to remove them in the next attempt. It is one of my few sources of pride, that, ridiculous as the object was, I followed it up with the firmness and energy of a man.
I manufactured a great variety of plots and skeletons of tales, and kept them ready for use, leaving the filling up to the inspiration of the moment; though I cannot remember ever to have told a tale which did not vary considerably177 from my preconceived idea, and acquire a novelty of aspect as often as I repeated it. Oddly enough, my success was generally in proportion to the difference between the conception and accomplishment178. I provided two or more commencements and catastrophes179 to many of the tales — a happy expedient180, suggested by the double sets of sleeves and trimmings which diversified181 the suits in Sir Piercy Shafton’s wardrobe. But my best efforts had a unity182, a wholeness, and a separate character that did not admit of this sort of mechanism183.
The Village Theatre
About the first of September my fellow-traveller and myself arrived at a country town, where a small company of actors, on their return from a summer’s campaign in the British Provinces, were giving a series of dramatic exhibitions. A moderately sized hall of the tavern had been converted into a theatre. The performances that evening were, The Heir at Law, and No Song, no Supper, with the recitation of Alexander’s Feast between the play and farce184. The house was thin and dull. But the next day there appeared to be brighter prospects, the playbills announcing at every corner, on the town-pump, and — awful sacrilege! — on the very door of the meeting-house, an Unprecedented185 Attraction! After setting forth186 the ordinary entertainments of a theatre, the public were informed, in the hugest type that the printing-office could supply, that the manager had been fortunate enough to accomplish an engagement with the celebrated187 Story–Teller. He would make his first appearance that evening, and recite his famous tale of Mr. Higginbotham’s Catastrophe, which had been received with rapturous applause by audiences in all the principal cities. This outrageous188 flourish of trumpets189, be it known, was wholly unauthorized by me, who had merely made an engagement for a single evening, without assuming any more celebrity190 than the little I possessed. As for the tale, it could hardly have been applauded by rapturous audiences, being as yet an unfilled plot; nor even when I stepped upon the stage was it decided191 whether Mr. Higginbotham should live or die.
In two or three places, underneath192 the flaming bills which announced the Story–Teller, was pasted a small slip of paper, giving notice, in tremulous characters, of a religious meeting to be held at the school-house, where, with divine permission, Eliakim Abbott would address sinners on the welfare of their immortal193 souls.
In the evening, after the commencement of the tragedy of Douglas, I took a ramble71 through the town to quicken my ideas by active motion. My spirits were good, with a certain glow of mind which I had already learned to depend upon as the sure prognostic of success. Passing a small and solitary194 school-house, where a light was burning dimly and a few people were entering the door, I went in with them, and saw my friend Eliakim at the desk. He had collected about fifteen hearers, mostly females. Just as I entered he was beginning to pray in accents so low and interrupted that he seemed to doubt the reception of his efforts both with God and man. There was room for distrust in regard to the latter. At the conclusion of the prayer several of the little audience went out, leaving him to begin his discourse195 under such discouraging circumstances, added to his natural and agonizing196 diffidence. Knowing that my presence on these occasions increased his embarrassment, I had stationed myself in a dusky place near the door, and now stole softly out.
On my return to the tavern the tragedy was already concluded; and, being a feeble one in itself and indifferently performed, it left so much the better chance for the Story–Teller. The bar was thronged197 with customers, the toddy-stick keeping a continual tattoo198; while in the hall there was a broad, deep, buzzing sound, with an occasional peal199 of impatient thunder — all symptoms of all overflowing200 house and an eager audience. I drank a glass of wine-and-water, and stood at the side scene conversing201 with a young person of doubtful sex. If a gentleman, how could he have performed the singing girl the night before in No Song, no Supper? Or, if a lady, why did she enact202 Young Norval, and now wear a green coat and white pantaloons in the character of Little Pickle203? In either case the dress was pretty and the wearer bewitching; so that, at the proper moment, I stepped forward with a gay heart and a hold one; while the orchestra played a tune9 that had resounded204 at many a country ball, and the curtain, as it rose, discovered something like a country bar-room. Such a scene was well enough adapted to such a tale.
The orchestra of our little theatre consisted of two fiddles205 and a clarinet; but, if the whole harmony of the Tremont had been there, it might have swelled206 in vain beneath the tumult207 of applause that greeted me. The good people of the town, knowing that the world contained innumerable persons of celebrity undreamed of by them, took it for granted that I was one, and that their roar of welcome was but a feeble echo of those which had thundered around me in lofty theatres. Such an enthusiastic uproar208 was never heard. Each person seemed a Briarcus clapping a hundred hands, besides keeping his feet and several cudgels in play with stamping and thumping on the floor; while the ladies flourished their white cambric handkerchiefs, intermixed with yellow and red bandanna209, like the flags of different nations. After such a salutation, the celebrated Story–Teller felt almost ashamed to produce so humble210 an affair as Mr. Higginbotham’s Catastrophe.
This story was originally more dramatic than as there presented, and afforded good scope for mimicry211 and buffoonery, neither of which, to my shame, did I spare. I never knew the “magic of a name” till I used that of Mr. Higginbotham. Often as I repeated it, there were louder bursts of merriment than those which responded to what, in my opinion, were more legitimate212 strokes of humor. The success of the piece was incalculably heightened by a stiff cue of horsehair, which Little Pickle, in the spirit of that mischief-loving character, had fastened to my collar, where, unknown to me, it kept making the queerest gestures of its own in correspondence with all mine. The audience, supposing that some enormous joke was appended to this long tail behind, were ineffably213 delighted, and gave way to such a tumult of approbation214 that, just as the story closed, the benches broke beneath them and left one whole row of my admirers on the floor. Even in that predicament they continued their applause. In after times, when I had grown a bitter moralizer, I took this scene for an example how much of fame is humbug215; how much the meed of what our better nature blushes at; how much an accident; how much bestowed216 on mistaken principles; and how small and poor the remnant. From pit and boxes there was now a universal call for the Story–Teller.
That celebrated personage came not when they did call to him. As I left the stage, the landlord, being also the postmaster, had given me a letter with the postmark of my native village, and directed to my assumed name in the stiff old handwriting of Parson Thumpcushion. Doubtless he had heard of the rising renown217 of the Story–Teller, and conjectured218 at once that such a nondescript luminary219 could be no other than his lost ward38. His epistle, though I never read it, affected me most painfully. I seemed to see the Puritanic figure of my guardian standing220 among the fripperies of the theatre and pointing to the players — the fantastic and effeminate men, the painted women, the giddy girl in boy’s clothes, merrier than modest — pointing to these with solemn ridicule221, and eying me with stern rebuke222. His image was a type of the austere223 duty, and they of the vanities of life.
I hastened with the letter to my chamber224 and held it unopened in my hand, while the applause of my buffoonery yet sounded through the theatre. Another train of thought came over me. The stern old man appeared again, but now with the gentleness of sorrow, softening225 his authority with love as a father might, and even bending his venerable head, as if to say that my errors had an apology in his own mistaken discipline. I strode twice across the chamber, then held the letter in the flame of the candle, and beheld it consume unread. It is fixed226 in my mind, and was so at the time, that he had addressed me in a style of paternal wisdom, and love, and reconciliation227 which I could not have resisted had I but risked the trial. The thought still haunts me that then I made my irrevocable choice between good and evil fate.
Meanwhile, as this occurrence had disturbed my mind and indisposed me to the present exercise of my profession, I left the town, in spite of a laudatory228 critique in the newspaper, and untempted by the liberal offers of the manager. As we walked onward, following the same road, on two such different errands, Eliakim groaned229 in spirit, and labored21 with tears to convince me of the guilt230 and madness of my life.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
infancy
|
|
| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
guardianship
|
|
| n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
wholesale
|
|
| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
tune
|
|
| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
frivolous
|
|
| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
doctrines
|
|
| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
urn
|
|
| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
benediction
|
|
| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
expounding
|
|
| 论述，详细讲解( expound的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
thumping
|
|
| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
belabored
|
|
| v.毒打一顿( belabor的过去式和过去分词 )；责骂；就…作过度的说明；向…唠叨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
labored
|
|
| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
proxy
|
|
| n.代理权，代表权；（对代理人的）委托书；代理人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
abominable
|
|
| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
adversaries
|
|
| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
inflexible
|
|
| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
instinctive
|
|
| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
conscientious
|
|
| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
incorrigible
|
|
| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
levity
|
|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
propensities
|
|
| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
variance
|
|
| n.矛盾，不同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
pertinacity
|
|
| n.执拗，顽固 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
41
competence
|
|
| n.能力，胜任，称职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
avowed
|
|
| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
tavern
|
|
| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
paupers
|
|
| n.穷人( pauper的名词复数 )；贫民；贫穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
hawked
|
|
| 通过叫卖主动兜售（hawk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
extravagant
|
|
| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
orators
|
|
| n.演说者，演讲家( orator的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
itinerant
|
|
| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
tormented
|
|
| 饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
vagrant
|
|
| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
specimens
|
|
| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
pecuniary
|
|
| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
rehearsals
|
|
| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
incitement
|
|
| 激励； 刺激； 煽动； 激励物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
gush
|
|
| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
beseech
|
|
| v.祈求，恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
ramble
|
|
| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
rambles
|
|
| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
ascending
|
|
| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
vapor
|
|
| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
diffused
|
|
| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
edifice
|
|
| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
edifices
|
|
| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
dingy
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
squire
|
|
| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
ominously
|
|
| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
ominous
|
|
| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
spire
|
|
| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
densest
|
|
| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
interpretation
|
|
| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
emblem
|
|
| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
gilded
|
|
| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
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： |
|
|
|
|
98
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
joyous
|
|
| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
recollecting
|
|
| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
knight
|
|
| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
auguries
|
|
| n.（古罗马）占卜术，占卜仪式( augury的名词复数 )；预兆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
poetical
|
|
| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
braying
|
|
| v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
hues
|
|
| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
omens
|
|
| n.前兆，预兆( omen的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
propitious
|
|
| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
fictitious
|
|
| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
bough
|
|
| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
beckoned
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
onward
|
|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
plantation
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
rivulet
|
|
| n.小溪，小河 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
gushing
|
|
| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
verge
|
|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
piqued
|
|
| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
penetration
|
|
| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
comedian
|
|
| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
goblet
|
|
| n.高脚酒杯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
lavish
|
|
| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
stump
|
|
| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
glimmering
|
|
| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
boughs
|
|
| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
fervor
|
|
| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
relished
|
|
| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
requital
|
|
| n.酬劳；报复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
solicited
|
|
| v.恳求( solicit的过去式和过去分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
manifestation
|
|
| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
apprehended
|
|
| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
tremor
|
|
| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
relinquishing
|
|
| 交出，让给( relinquish的现在分词 )； 放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
immunities
|
|
| 免除，豁免( immunity的名词复数 )； 免疫力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
hissed
|
|
| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
refund
|
|
| v.退还，偿还；n.归还，偿还额，退款 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
offset
|
|
| n.分支，补偿；v.抵消，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
hisses
|
|
| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
amuck
|
|
| ad.狂乱地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
caverns
|
|
| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
persevere
|
|
| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
wring
|
|
| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
prodigality
|
|
| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
attainment
|
|
| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
requisite
|
|
| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
pathos
|
|
| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
garb
|
|
| n.服装，装束 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
ignoble
|
|
| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
accomplishment
|
|
| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
catastrophes
|
|
| n.灾祸( catastrophe的名词复数 )；灾难；不幸事件；困难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
expedient
|
|
| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
diversified
|
|
| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
unity
|
|
| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
mechanism
|
|
| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
farce
|
|
| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
unprecedented
|
|
| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
outrageous
|
|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
trumpets
|
|
| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
celebrity
|
|
| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
agonizing
|
|
| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
thronged
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
tattoo
|
|
| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
peal
|
|
| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
overflowing
|
|
| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
conversing
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
enact
|
|
| vt.制定(法律)；上演，扮演 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
pickle
|
|
| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
resounded
|
|
| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
fiddles
|
|
| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
uproar
|
|
| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
bandanna
|
|
| n.大手帕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
mimicry
|
|
| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
ineffably
|
|
| adv.难以言喻地，因神圣而不容称呼地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
approbation
|
|
| n.称赞；认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
humbug
|
|
| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
renown
|
|
| n.声誉，名望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
conjectured
|
|
| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
luminary
|
|
| n.名人，天体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
rebuke
|
|
| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
reconciliation
|
|
| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
laudatory
|
|
| adj.赞扬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |