As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light as fairies, did the four Pickwickians assemble on the morning of the twenty-second day of December, in the year of grace in which these, their faithfully-recorded adventures, were undertaken and accomplished3. Christmas was close at hand, in all his bluff4 and hearty5 honesty; it was the season of hospitality, merriment, and open-heartedness; the old year was preparing, like an ancient philosopher, to call his friends around him, and amidst the sound of feasting and revelry to pass gently and calmly away. Gay and merry was the time; and right gay and merry were at least four of the numerous hearts that were gladdened by its coming.
And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment6. How many families, whose members have been dispersed7 and scattered8 far and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are then reunited, and meet once again in that happy state of companionship and mutual9 goodwill10, which is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight; and one so incompatible11 with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude traditions of the roughest savages12, alike number it among the first joys of a future condition of existence, provided for the blessed and happy! How many old recollections, and how many dormant14 sympathies, does Christmas time awaken15!
We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous16 circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed17 so gaily18 then, have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped, have grown cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their lustre19 in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence20 of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions21 of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home!
But we are so taken up and occupied with the good qualities of this saint Christmas, that we are keeping Mr. Pickwick and his friends waiting in the cold on the outside of the Muggleton coach, which they have just attained22, well wrapped up in great– coats, shawls, and comforters. The portmanteaus and carpet– bags have been stowed away, and Mr. Weller and the guard are endeavouring to insinuate23 into the fore-boot a huge cod-fish several sizes too large for it — which is snugly25 packed up, in a long brown basket, with a layer of straw over the top, and which has been left to the last, in order that he may repose26 in safety on the half-dozen barrels of real native oysters27, all the property of Mr. Pickwick, which have been arranged in regular order at the bottom of the receptacle. The interest displayed in Mr. Pickwick’s countenance28 is most intense, as Mr. Weller and the guard try to squeeze the cod-fish into the boot, first head first, and then tail first, and then top upward, and then bottom upward, and then side-ways, and then long-ways, all of which artifices29 the implacable cod-fish sturdily resists, until the guard accidentally hits him in the very middle of the basket, whereupon he suddenly disappears into the boot, and with him, the head and shoulders of the guard himself, who, not calculating upon so sudden a cessation of the passive resistance of the cod-fish, experiences a very unexpected shock, to the unsmotherable delight of all the porters and bystanders. Upon this, Mr. Pickwick smiles with great good-humour, and drawing a shilling from his waistcoat pocket, begs the guard, as he picks himself out of the boot, to drink his health in a glass of hot brandy-and-water; at which the guard smiles too, and Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, all smile in company. The guard and Mr. Weller disappear for five minutes, most probably to get the hot brandy-and-water, for they smell very strongly of it, when they return, the coachman mounts to the box, Mr. Weller jumps up behind, the Pickwickians pull their coats round their legs and their shawls over their noses, the helpers pull the horse-cloths off, the coachman shouts out a cheery ‘All right,’ and away they go.
They have rumbled30 through the streets, and jolted31 over the stones, and at length reach the wide and open country. The wheels skim over the hard and frosty ground; and the horses, bursting into a canter at a smart crack of the whip, step along the road as if the load behind them — coach, passengers, cod-fish, oyster-barrels, and all — were but a feather at their heels. They have descended33 a gentle slope, and enter upon a level, as compact and dry as a solid block of marble, two miles long. Another crack of the whip, and on they speed, at a smart gallop34, the horses tossing their heads and rattling35 the harness, as if in exhilaration at the rapidity of the motion; while the coachman, holding whip and reins36 in one hand, takes off his hat with the other, and resting it on his knees, pulls out his handkerchief, and wipes his forehead, partly because he has a habit of doing it, and partly because it’s as well to show the passengers how cool he is, and what an easy thing it is to drive four-in-hand, when you have had as much practice as he has. Having done this very leisurely38 (otherwise the effect would be materially impaired), he replaces his handkerchief, pulls on his hat, adjusts his gloves, squares his elbows, cracks the whip again, and on they speed, more merrily than before. A few small houses, scattered on either side of the road, betoken39 the entrance to some town or village. The lively notes of the guard’s key-bugle40 vibrate in the clear cold air, and wake up the old gentleman inside, who, carefully letting down the window-sash half-way, and standing41 sentry42 over the air, takes a short peep out, and then carefully pulling it up again, informs the other inside that they’re going to change directly; on which the other inside wakes himself up, and determines to postpone43 his next nap until after the stoppage. Again the bugle sounds lustily forth44, and rouses the cottager’s wife and children, who peep out at the house door, and watch the coach till it turns the corner, when they once more crouch45 round the blazing fire, and throw on another log of wood against father comes home; while father himself, a full mile off, has just exchanged a friendly nod with the coachman, and turned round to take a good long stare at the vehicle as it whirls away.
And now the bugle plays a lively air as the coach rattles46 through the ill-paved streets of a country town; and the coachman, undoing47 the buckle48 which keeps his ribands together, prepares to throw them off the moment he stops. Mr. Pickwick emerges from his coat collar, and looks about him with great curiosity; perceiving which, the coachman informs Mr. Pickwick of the name of the town, and tells him it was market-day yesterday, both of which pieces of information Mr. Pickwick retails49 to his fellow-passengers; whereupon they emerge from their coat collars too, and look about them also. Mr. Winkle, who sits at the extreme edge, with one leg dangling50 in the air, is nearly precipitated51 into the street, as the coach twists round the sharp corner by the cheesemonger’s shop, and turns into the market-place; and before Mr. Snodgrass, who sits next to him, has recovered from his alarm, they pull up at the inn yard where the fresh horses, with cloths on, are already waiting. The coachman throws down the reins and gets down himself, and the other outside passengers drop down also; except those who have no great confidence in their ability to get up again; and they remain where they are, and stamp their feet against the coach to warm them — looking, with longing53 eyes and red noses, at the bright fire in the inn bar, and the sprigs of holly54 with red berries which ornament55 the window.
But the guard has delivered at the corn-dealer’s shop, the brown paper packet he took out of the little pouch56 which hangs over his shoulder by a leathern strap57; and has seen the horses carefully put to; and has thrown on the pavement the saddle which was brought from London on the coach roof; and has assisted in the conference between the coachman and the hostler about the gray mare58 that hurt her off fore-leg last Tuesday; and he and Mr. Weller are all right behind, and the coachman is all right in front, and the old gentleman inside, who has kept the window down full two inches all this time, has pulled it up again, and the cloths are off, and they are all ready for starting, except the ‘two stout59 gentlemen,’ whom the coachman inquires after with some impatience60. Hereupon the coachman, and the guard, and Sam Weller, and Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostlers, and every one of the idlers, who are more in number than all the others put together, shout for the missing gentlemen as loud as they can bawl61. A distant response is heard from the yard, and Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman come running down it, quite out of breath, for they have been having a glass of ale a-piece, and Mr. Pickwick’s fingers are so cold that he has been full five minutes before he could find the sixpence to pay for it. The coachman shouts an admonitory ‘Now then, gen’l’m’n,’ the guard re-echoes it; the old gentleman inside thinks it a very extraordinary thing that people WILL get down when they know there isn’t time for it; Mr. Pickwick struggles up on one side, Mr. Tupman on the other; Mr. Winkle cries ‘All right’; and off they start. Shawls are pulled up, coat collars are readjusted, the pavement ceases, the houses disappear; and they are once again dashing along the open road, with the fresh clear air blowing in their faces, and gladdening their very hearts within them.
Such was the progress of Mr. Pickwick and his friends by the Muggleton Telegraph, on their way to Dingley Dell; and at three o’clock that afternoon they all stood high and dry, safe and sound, hale and hearty, upon the steps of the Blue Lion, having taken on the road quite enough of ale and brandy, to enable them to bid defiance62 to the frost that was binding63 up the earth in its iron fetters64, and weaving its beautiful network upon the trees and hedges. Mr. Pickwick was busily engaged in counting the barrels of oysters and superintending the disinterment of the cod-fish, when he felt himself gently pulled by the skirts of the coat. Looking round, he discovered that the individual who resorted to this mode of catching65 his attention was no other than Mr. Wardle’s favourite page, better known to the readers of this unvarnished history, by the distinguishing appellation66 of the fat boy.
‘Aha!’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Aha!’ said the fat boy.
As he said it, he glanced from the cod-fish to the oyster-barrels, and chuckled67 joyously68. He was fatter than ever.
‘Well, you look rosy69 enough, my young friend,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘I’ve been asleep, right in front of the taproom fire,’ replied the fat boy, who had heated himself to the colour of a new chimney-pot, in the course of an hour’s nap. ‘Master sent me over with the shay-cart, to carry your luggage up to the house. He’d ha’ sent some saddle-horses, but he thought you’d rather walk, being a cold day.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Mr. Pickwick hastily, for he remembered how they had travelled over nearly the same ground on a previous occasion. ‘Yes, we would rather walk. Here, Sam!’
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Weller.
‘Help Mr. Wardle’s servant to put the packages into the cart, and then ride on with him. We will walk forward at once.’
Having given this direction, and settled with the coachman, Mr. Pickwick and his three friends struck into the footpath70 across the fields, and walked briskly away, leaving Mr. Weller and the fat boy confronted together for the first time. Sam looked at the fat boy with great astonishment71, but without saying a word; and began to stow the luggage rapidly away in the cart, while the fat boy stood quietly by, and seemed to think it a very interesting sort of thing to see Mr. Weller working by himself.
‘There,’ said Sam, throwing in the last carpet-bag, ‘there they are!’
‘Yes,’ said the fat boy, in a very satisfied tone, ‘there they are.’
‘Vell, young twenty stun,’ said Sam, ‘you’re a nice specimen72 of a prize boy, you are!’ ‘Thank’ee,’ said the fat boy.
‘You ain’t got nothin’ on your mind as makes you fret73 yourself, have you?’ inquired Sam.
‘Not as I knows on,’ replied the fat boy.
‘I should rayther ha’ thought, to look at you, that you was a-labourin’ under an unrequited attachment74 to some young ‘ooman,’ said Sam.
The fat boy shook his head.
‘Vell,’ said Sam, ‘I am glad to hear it. Do you ever drink anythin’?’
‘I likes eating better,’ replied the boy.
‘Ah,’ said Sam, ‘I should ha’ s’posed that; but what I mean is, should you like a drop of anythin’ as’d warm you? but I s’pose you never was cold, with all them elastic75 fixtures76, was you?’
‘Sometimes,’ replied the boy; ‘and I likes a drop of something, when it’s good.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ said Sam, ‘come this way, then!’
The Blue Lion tap was soon gained, and the fat boy swallowed a glass of liquor without so much as winking77 — a feat32 which considerably78 advanced him in Mr. Weller’s good opinion. Mr. Weller having transacted79 a similar piece of business on his own account, they got into the cart.
‘Can you drive?’ said the fat boy. ‘I should rayther think so,’ replied Sam.
‘There, then,’ said the fat boy, putting the reins in his hand, and pointing up a lane, ‘it’s as straight as you can go; you can’t miss it.’
With these words, the fat boy laid himself affectionately down by the side of the cod-fish, and, placing an oyster-barrel under his head for a pillow, fell asleep instantaneously.
‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘of all the cool boys ever I set my eyes on, this here young gen’l’m’n is the coolest. Come, wake up, young dropsy!’
But as young dropsy evinced no symptoms of returning animation80, Sam Weller sat himself down in front of the cart, and starting the old horse with a jerk of the rein37, jogged steadily81 on, towards the Manor82 Farm.
Meanwhile, Mr. Pickwick and his friends having walked their blood into active circulation, proceeded cheerfully on. The paths were hard; the grass was crisp and frosty; the air had a fine, dry, bracing83 coldness; and the rapid approach of the gray twilight84 (slate-coloured is a better term in frosty weather) made them look forward with pleasant anticipation85 to the comforts which awaited them at their hospitable86 entertainer’s. It was the sort of afternoon that might induce a couple of elderly gentlemen, in a lonely field, to take off their greatcoats and play at leap-frog in pure lightness of heart and gaiety; and we firmly believe that had Mr. Tupman at that moment proffered87 ‘a back,’ Mr. Pickwick would have accepted his offer with the utmost avidity.
However, Mr. Tupman did not volunteer any such accommodation, and the friends walked on, conversing88 merrily. As they turned into a lane they had to cross, the sound of many voices burst upon their ears; and before they had even had time to form a guess to whom they belonged, they walked into the very centre of the party who were expecting their arrival — a fact which was first notified to the Pickwickians, by the loud ‘Hurrah,’ which burst from old Wardle’s lips, when they appeared in sight.
First, there was Wardle himself, looking, if that were possible, more jolly than ever; then there were Bella and her faithful Trundle; and, lastly, there were Emily and some eight or ten young ladies, who had all come down to the wedding, which was to take place next day, and who were in as happy and important a state as young ladies usually are, on such momentous89 occasions; and they were, one and all, startling the fields and lanes, far and wide, with their frolic and laughter.
The ceremony of introduction, under such circumstances, was very soon performed, or we should rather say that the introduction was soon over, without any ceremony at all. In two minutes thereafter, Mr. Pickwick was joking with the young ladies who wouldn’t come over the stile while he looked — or who, having pretty feet and unexceptionable ankles, preferred standing on the top rail for five minutes or so, declaring that they were too frightened to move — with as much ease and absence of reserve or constraint90, as if he had known them for life. It is worthy91 of remark, too, that Mr. Snodgrass offered Emily far more assistance than the absolute terrors of the stile (although it was full three feet high, and had only a couple of stepping-stones) would seem to require; while one black-eyed young lady in a very nice little pair of boots with fur round the top, was observed to scream very loudly, when Mr. Winkle offered to help her over.
All this was very snug24 and pleasant. And when the difficulties of the stile were at last surmounted92, and they once more entered on the open field, old Wardle informed Mr. Pickwick how they had all been down in a body to inspect the furniture and fittings-up of the house, which the young couple were to tenant93, after the Christmas holidays; at which communication Bella and Trundle both coloured up, as red as the fat boy after the taproom fire; and the young lady with the black eyes and the fur round the boots, whispered something in Emily’s ear, and then glanced archly at Mr. Snodgrass; to which Emily responded that she was a foolish girl, but turned very red, notwithstanding; and Mr. Snodgrass, who was as modest as all great geniuses usually are, felt the crimson94 rising to the crown of his head, and devoutly95 wished, in the inmost recesses96 of his own heart, that the young lady aforesaid, with her black eyes, and her archness, and her boots with the fur round the top, were all comfortably deposited in the adjacent county.
But if they were social and happy outside the house, what was the warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached the farm! The very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of Mr. Pickwick; and Emma bestowed97 a half-demure, half-impudent, and all-pretty look of recognition, on Mr. Tupman, which was enough to make the statue of Bonaparte in the passage, unfold his arms, and clasp her within them.
The old lady was seated with customary state in the front parlour, but she was rather cross, and, by consequence, most particularly deaf. She never went out herself, and like a great many other old ladies of the same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason, if anybody else took the liberty of doing what she couldn’t. So, bless her old soul, she sat as upright as she could, in her great chair, and looked as fierce as might be — and that was benevolent98 after all.
‘Mother,’ said Wardle, ‘Mr. Pickwick. You recollect13 him?’
‘Never mind,’ replied the old lady, with great dignity. ‘Don’t trouble Mr. Pickwick about an old creetur like me. Nobody cares about me now, and it’s very nat’ral they shouldn’t.’ Here the old lady tossed her head, and smoothed down her lavender-coloured silk dress with trembling hands. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘I can’t let you cut an old friend in this way. I have come down expressly to have a long talk, and another rubber with you; and we’ll show these boys and girls how to dance a minuet, before they’re eight-and– forty hours older.’
The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she did not like to do it all at once; so she only said, ‘Ah! I can’t hear him!’
‘Nonsense, mother,’ said Wardle. ‘Come, come, don’t be cross, there’s a good soul. Recollect Bella; come, you must keep her spirits up, poor girl.’
The good old lady heard this, for her lip quivered as her son said it. But age has its little infirmities of temper, and she was not quite brought round yet. So, she smoothed down the lavender-coloured dress again, and turning to Mr. Pickwick said, ‘Ah, Mr. Pickwick, young people was very different, when I was a girl.’
‘No doubt of that, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘and that’s the reason why I would make much of the few that have any traces of the old stock’— and saying this, Mr. Pickwick gently pulled Bella towards him, and bestowing99 a kiss upon her forehead, bade her sit down on the little stool at her grandmother’s feet. Whether the expression of her countenance, as it was raised towards the old lady’s face, called up a thought of old times, or whether the old lady was touched by Mr. Pickwick’s affectionate good-nature, or whatever was the cause, she was fairly melted; so she threw herself on her granddaughter’s neck, and all the little ill-humour evaporated in a gush100 of silent tears.
A happy party they were, that night. Sedate101 and solemn were the score of rubbers in which Mr. Pickwick and the old lady played together; uproarious was the mirth of the round table. Long after the ladies had retired102, did the hot elder wine, well qualified103 with brandy and spice, go round, and round, and round again; and sound was the sleep and pleasant were the dreams that followed. It is a remarkable104 fact that those of Mr. Snodgrass bore constant reference to Emily Wardle; and that the principal figure in Mr. Winkle’s visions was a young lady with black eyes, and arch smile, and a pair of remarkably105 nice boots with fur round the tops.
Mr. Pickwick was awakened106 early in the morning, by a hum of voices and a pattering of feet, sufficient to rouse even the fat boy from his heavy slumbers107. He sat up in bed and listened. The female servants and female visitors were running constantly to and fro; and there were such multitudinous demands for hot water, such repeated outcries for needles and thread, and so many half-suppressed entreaties108 of ‘Oh, do come and tie me, there’s a dear!’ that Mr. Pickwick in his innocence109 began to imagine that something dreadful must have occurred — when he grew more awake, and remembered the wedding. The occasion being an important one, he dressed himself with peculiar110 care, and descended to the breakfast-room.
There were all the female servants in a bran new uniform of pink muslin gowns with white bows in their caps, running about the house in a state of excitement and agitation111 which it would be impossible to describe. The old lady was dressed out in a brocaded gown, which had not seen the light for twenty years, saving and excepting such truant112 rays as had stolen through the chinks in the box in which it had been laid by, during the whole time. Mr. Trundle was in high feather and spirits, but a little nervous withal. The hearty old landlord was trying to look very cheerful and unconcerned, but failing signally in the attempt. All the girls were in tears and white muslin, except a select two or three, who were being honoured with a private view of the bride and bridesmaids, upstairs. All the Pickwickians were in most blooming array; and there was a terrific roaring on the grass in front of the house, occasioned by all the men, boys, and hobbledehoys attached to the farm, each of whom had got a white bow in his button-hole, and all of whom were cheering with might and main; being incited113 thereto, and stimulated114 therein by the precept115 and example of Mr. Samuel Weller, who had managed to become mighty116 popular already, and was as much at home as if he had been born on the land.
A wedding is a licensed117 subject to joke upon, but there really is no great joke in the matter after all; — we speak merely of the ceremony, and beg it to be distinctly understood that we indulge in no hidden sarcasm118 upon a married life. Mixed up with the pleasure and joy of the occasion, are the many regrets at quitting home, the tears of parting between parent and child, the consciousness of leaving the dearest and kindest friends of the happiest portion of human life, to encounter its cares and troubles with others still untried and little known — natural feelings which we would not render this chapter mournful by describing, and which we should be still more unwilling119 to be supposed to ridicule120.
Let us briefly121 say, then, that the ceremony was performed by the old clergyman, in the parish church of Dingley Dell, and that Mr. Pickwick’s name is attached to the register, still preserved in the vestry thereof; that the young lady with the black eyes signed her name in a very unsteady and tremulous manner; that Emily’s signature, as the other bridesmaid, is nearly illegible122; that it all went off in very admirable style; that the young ladies generally thought it far less shocking than they had expected; and that although the owner of the black eyes and the arch smile informed Mr. Wardle that she was sure she could never submit to anything so dreadful, we have the very best reasons for thinking she was mistaken. To all this, we may add, that Mr. Pickwick was the first who saluted123 the bride, and that in so doing he threw over her neck a rich gold watch and chain, which no mortal eyes but the jeweller’s had ever beheld125 before. Then, the old church bell rang as gaily as it could, and they all returned to breakfast. ‘Vere does the mince-pies go, young opium-eater?’ said Mr. Weller to the fat boy, as he assisted in laying out such articles of consumption as had not been duly arranged on the previous night.
The fat boy pointed126 to the destination of the pies.
‘Wery good,’ said Sam, ‘stick a bit o’ Christmas in ’em. T’other dish opposite. There; now we look compact and comfortable, as the father said ven he cut his little boy’s head off, to cure him o’ squintin’.’
As Mr. Weller made the comparison, he fell back a step or two, to give full effect to it, and surveyed the preparations with the utmost satisfaction.
‘Wardle,’ said Mr. Pickwick, almost as soon as they were all seated, ‘a glass of wine in honour of this happy occasion!’
‘I shall be delighted, my boy,’ said Wardle. ‘Joe — damn that boy, he’s gone to sleep.’ ‘No, I ain’t, sir,’ replied the fat boy, starting up from a remote corner, where, like the patron saint of fat boys — the immortal127 Horner — he had been devouring128 a Christmas pie, though not with the coolness and deliberation which characterised that young gentleman’s proceedings129.
‘Fill Mr. Pickwick’s glass.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The fat boy filled Mr. Pickwick’s glass, and then retired behind his master’s chair, from whence he watched the play of the knives and forks, and the progress of the choice morsels130 from the dishes to the mouths of the company, with a kind of dark and gloomy joy that was most impressive.
‘God bless you, old fellow!’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Same to you, my boy,’ replied Wardle; and they pledged each other, heartily131.
‘Mrs. Wardle,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘we old folks must have a glass of wine together, in honour of this joyful132 event.’
The old lady was in a state of great grandeur133 just then, for she was sitting at the top of the table in the brocaded gown, with her newly-married granddaughter on one side, and Mr. Pickwick on the other, to do the carving134. Mr. Pickwick had not spoken in a very loud tone, but she understood him at once, and drank off a full glass of wine to his long life and happiness; after which the worthy old soul launched forth into a minute and particular account of her own wedding, with a dissertation135 on the fashion of wearing high-heeled shoes, and some particulars concerning the life and adventures of the beautiful Lady Tollimglower, deceased; at all of which the old lady herself laughed very heartily indeed, and so did the young ladies too, for they were wondering among themselves what on earth grandma was talking about. When they laughed, the old lady laughed ten times more heartily, and said that these always had been considered capital stories, which caused them all to laugh again, and put the old lady into the very best of humours. Then the cake was cut, and passed through the ring; the young ladies saved pieces to put under their pillows to dream of their future husbands on; and a great deal of blushing and merriment was thereby136 occasioned.
‘Mr. Miller,’ said Mr. Pickwick to his old acquaintance, the hard-headed gentleman, ‘a glass of wine?’
‘With great satisfaction, Mr. Pickwick,’ replied the hard-headed gentleman solemnly.
‘You’ll take me in?’ said the benevolent old clergyman.
‘And me,’ interposed his wife. ‘And me, and me,’ said a couple of poor relations at the bottom of the table, who had eaten and drunk very heartily, and laughed at everything.
Mr. Pickwick expressed his heartfelt delight at every additional suggestion; and his eyes beamed with hilarity137 and cheerfulness. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly rising.
‘Hear, hear! Hear, hear! Hear, hear!’ cried Mr. Weller, in the excitement of his feelings.
‘Call in all the servants,’ cried old Wardle, interposing to prevent the public rebuke138 which Mr. Weller would otherwise most indubitably have received from his master. ‘Give them a glass of wine each to drink the toast in. Now, Pickwick.’
Amidst the silence of the company, the whispering of the women-servants, and the awkward embarrassment139 of the men, Mr. Pickwick proceeded —
‘Ladies and gentlemen — no, I won’t say ladies and gentlemen, I’ll call you my friends, my dear friends, if the ladies will allow me to take so great a liberty —’
Here Mr. Pickwick was interrupted by immense applause from the ladies, echoed by the gentlemen, during which the owner of the eyes was distinctly heard to state that she could kiss that dear Mr. Pickwick. Whereupon Mr. Winkle gallantly140 inquired if it couldn’t be done by deputy: to which the young lady with the black eyes replied ‘Go away,’ and accompanied the request with a look which said as plainly as a look could do, ‘if you can.’
‘My dear friends,’ resumed Mr. Pickwick, ‘I am going to propose the health of the bride and bridegroom — God bless ’em (cheers and tears). My young friend, Trundle, I believe to be a very excellent and manly141 fellow; and his wife I know to be a very amiable142 and lovely girl, well qualified to transfer to another sphere of action the happiness which for twenty years she has diffused143 around her, in her father’s house. (Here, the fat boy burst forth into stentorian144 blubberings, and was led forth by the coat collar, by Mr. Weller.) I wish,’ added Mr. Pickwick —‘I wish I was young enough to be her sister’s husband (cheers), but, failing that, I am happy to be old enough to be her father; for, being so, I shall not be suspected of any latent designs when I say, that I admire, esteem145, and love them both (cheers and sobs). The bride’s father, our good friend there, is a noble person, and I am proud to know him (great uproar). He is a kind, excellent, independent-spirited, fine-hearted, hospitable, liberal man (enthusiastic shouts from the poor relations, at all the adjectives; and especially at the two last). That his daughter may enjoy all the happiness, even he can desire; and that he may derive146 from the contemplation of her felicity all the gratification of heart and peace of mind which he so well deserves, is, I am persuaded, our united wish. So, let us drink their healths, and wish them prolonged life, and every blessing147!’
Mr. Pickwick concluded amidst a whirlwind of applause; and once more were the lungs of the supernumeraries, under Mr. Weller’s command, brought into active and efficient operation. Mr. Wardle proposed Mr. Pickwick; Mr. Pickwick proposed the old lady. Mr. Snodgrass proposed Mr. Wardle; Mr. Wardle proposed Mr. Snodgrass. One of the poor relations proposed Mr. Tupman, and the other poor relation proposed Mr. Winkle; all was happiness and festivity, until the mysterious disappearance148 of both the poor relations beneath the table, warned the party that it was time to adjourn149.
At dinner they met again, after a five-and-twenty mile walk, undertaken by the males at Wardle’s recommendation, to get rid of the effects of the wine at breakfast. The poor relations had kept in bed all day, with the view of attaining150 the same happy consummation, but, as they had been unsuccessful, they stopped there. Mr. Weller kept the domestics in a state of perpetual hilarity; and the fat boy divided his time into small alternate allotments of eating and sleeping.
The dinner was as hearty an affair as the breakfast, and was quite as noisy, without the tears. Then came the dessert and some more toasts. Then came the tea and coffee; and then, the ball.
The best sitting-room151 at Manor Farm was a good, long, dark-panelled room with a high chimney-piece, and a capacious chimney, up which you could have driven one of the new patent cabs, wheels and all. At the upper end of the room, seated in a shady bower152 of holly and evergreens153 were the two best fiddlers, and the only harp52, in all Muggleton. In all sorts of recesses, and on all kinds of brackets, stood massive old silver candlesticks with four branches each. The carpet was up, the candles burned bright, the fire blazed and crackled on the hearth154, and merry voices and light-hearted laughter rang through the room. If any of the old English yeomen had turned into fairies when they died, it was just the place in which they would have held their revels155.
If anything could have added to the interest of this agreeable scene, it would have been the remarkable fact of Mr. Pickwick’s appearing without his gaiters, for the first time within the memory of his oldest friends.
‘You mean to dance?’ said Wardle.
‘Of course I do,’ replied Mr. Pickwick. ‘Don’t you see I am dressed for the purpose?’ Mr. Pickwick called attention to his speckled silk stockings, and smartly tied pumps.
‘YOU in silk stockings!’ exclaimed Mr. Tupman jocosely156.
‘And why not, sir — why not?’ said Mr. Pickwick, turning warmly upon him. ‘Oh, of course there is no reason why you shouldn’t wear them,’ responded Mr. Tupman.
‘I imagine not, sir — I imagine not,’ said Mr. Pickwick, in a very peremptory157 tone.
Mr. Tupman had contemplated158 a laugh, but he found it was a serious matter; so he looked grave, and said they were a pretty pattern.
‘I hope they are,’ said Mr. Pickwick, fixing his eyes upon his friend. ‘You see nothing extraordinary in the stockings, AS stockings, I trust, Sir?’
‘Certainly not. Oh, certainly not,’ replied Mr. Tupman. He walked away; and Mr. Pickwick’s countenance resumed its customary benign159 expression.
‘We are all ready, I believe,’ said Mr. Pickwick, who was stationed with the old lady at the top of the dance, and had already made four false starts, in his excessive anxiety to commence.
‘Then begin at once,’ said Wardle. ‘Now!’
Up struck the two fiddles160 and the one harp, and off went Mr. Pickwick into hands across, when there was a general clapping of hands, and a cry of ‘Stop, stop!’
‘What’s the matter?’ said Mr. Pickwick, who was only brought to, by the fiddles and harp desisting, and could have been stopped by no other earthly power, if the house had been on fire. ‘Where’s Arabella Allen?’ cried a dozen voices.
‘And Winkle?‘added Mr. Tupman.
‘Here we are!’ exclaimed that gentleman, emerging with his pretty companion from the corner; as he did so, it would have been hard to tell which was the redder in the face, he or the young lady with the black eyes.
‘What an extraordinary thing it is, Winkle,’ said Mr. Pickwick, rather pettishly161, ‘that you couldn’t have taken your place before.’
‘Not at all extraordinary,’ said Mr. Winkle.
‘Well,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with a very expressive162 smile, as his eyes rested on Arabella, ‘well, I don’t know that it WAS extraordinary, either, after all.’
However, there was no time to think more about the matter, for the fiddles and harp began in real earnest. Away went Mr. Pickwick — hands across — down the middle to the very end of the room, and half-way up the chimney, back again to the door — poussette everywhere — loud stamp on the ground — ready for the next couple — off again — all the figure over once more — another stamp to beat out the time — next couple, and the next, and the next again — never was such going; at last, after they had reached the bottom of the dance, and full fourteen couple after the old lady had retired in an exhausted163 state, and the clergyman’s wife had been substituted in her stead, did that gentleman, when there was no demand whatever on his exertions164, keep perpetually dancing in his place, to keep time to the music, smiling on his partner all the while with a blandness165 of demeanour which baffles all description.
Long before Mr. Pickwick was weary of dancing, the newly– married couple had retired from the scene. There was a glorious supper downstairs, notwithstanding, and a good long sitting after it; and when Mr. Pickwick awoke, late the next morning, he had a confused recollection of having, severally and confidentially166, invited somewhere about five-and-forty people to dine with him at the George and Vulture, the very first time they came to London; which Mr. Pickwick rightly considered a pretty certain indication of his having taken something besides exercise, on the previous night.
‘And so your family has games in the kitchen to-night, my dear, has they?’ inquired Sam of Emma.
‘Yes, Mr. Weller,’ replied Emma; ‘we always have on Christmas Eve. Master wouldn’t neglect to keep it up on any account.’
‘Your master’s a wery pretty notion of keeping anythin’ up, my dear,’ said Mr. Weller; ‘I never see such a sensible sort of man as he is, or such a reg’lar gen’l’m’n.’ ‘Oh, that he is!’ said the fat boy, joining in the conversation; ‘don’t he breed nice pork!’ The fat youth gave a semi-cannibalic leer at Mr. Weller, as he thought of the roast legs and gravy167.
‘Oh, you’ve woke up, at last, have you?’ said Sam.
The fat boy nodded.
‘I’ll tell you what it is, young boa-constructer,’ said Mr. Weller impressively; ‘if you don’t sleep a little less, and exercise a little more, wen you comes to be a man you’ll lay yourself open to the same sort of personal inconwenience as was inflicted168 on the old gen’l’m’n as wore the pigtail.’
‘What did they do to him?’ inquired the fat boy, in a faltering169 voice.
‘I’m a-going to tell you,’ replied Mr. Weller; ‘he was one o’ the largest patterns as was ever turned out — reg’lar fat man, as hadn’t caught a glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty year.’
‘Lor!’ exclaimed Emma.
‘No, that he hadn’t, my dear,’ said Mr. Weller; ‘and if you’d put an exact model of his own legs on the dinin’-table afore him, he wouldn’t ha’ known ’em. Well, he always walks to his office with a wery handsome gold watch-chain hanging out, about a foot and a quarter, and a gold watch in his fob pocket as was worth — I’m afraid to say how much, but as much as a watch can be — a large, heavy, round manufacter, as stout for a watch, as he was for a man, and with a big face in proportion. “You’d better not carry that ‘ere watch,” says the old gen’l’m’n’s friends, “you’ll be robbed on it,” says they. “Shall I?” says he. “Yes, you will,” says they. “Well,” says he, “I should like to see the thief as could get this here watch out, for I’m blessed if I ever can, it’s such a tight fit,” says he, “and wenever I vants to know what’s o’clock, I’m obliged to stare into the bakers’ shops,” he says. Well, then he laughs as hearty as if he was a-goin’ to pieces, and out he walks agin with his powdered head and pigtail, and rolls down the Strand170 with the chain hangin’ out furder than ever, and the great round watch almost bustin’ through his gray kersey smalls. There warn’t a pickpocket171 in all London as didn’t take a pull at that chain, but the chain ’ud never break, and the watch ’ud never come out, so they soon got tired of dragging such a heavy old gen’l’m’n along the pavement, and he’d go home and laugh till the pigtail wibrated like the penderlum of a Dutch clock. At last, one day the old gen’l’m’n was a-rollin’ along, and he sees a pickpocket as he know’d by sight, a-coming up, arm in arm with a little boy with a wery large head. “Here’s a game,” says the old gen’l’m’n to himself, “they’re a-goin’ to have another try, but it won’t do!” So he begins a-chucklin’ wery hearty, wen, all of a sudden, the little boy leaves hold of the pickpocket’s arm, and rushes head foremost straight into the old gen’l’m’n’s stomach, and for a moment doubles him right up with the pain. “Murder!” says the old gen’l’m’n. “All right, Sir,” says the pickpocket, a-wisperin’ in his ear. And wen he come straight agin, the watch and chain was gone, and what’s worse than that, the old gen’l’m’n’s digestion172 was all wrong ever afterwards, to the wery last day of his life; so just you look about you, young feller, and take care you don’t get too fat.’
As Mr. Weller concluded this moral tale, with which the fat boy appeared much affected173, they all three repaired to the large kitchen, in which the family were by this time assembled, according to annual custom on Christmas Eve, observed by old Wardle’s forefathers174 from time immemorial.
From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, old Wardle had just suspended, with his own hands, a huge branch of mistletoe, and this same branch of mistletoe instantaneously gave rise to a scene of general and most delightful175 struggling and confusion; in the midst of which, Mr. Pickwick, with a gallantry that would have done honour to a descendant of Lady Tollimglower herself, took the old lady by the hand, led her beneath the mystic branch, and saluted her in all courtesy and decorum. The old lady submitted to this piece of practical politeness with all the dignity which befitted so important and serious a solemnity, but the younger ladies, not being so thoroughly176 imbued177 with a superstitious178 veneration179 for the custom, or imagining that the value of a salute124 is very much enhanced if it cost a little trouble to obtain it, screamed and struggled, and ran into corners, and threatened and remonstrated180, and did everything but leave the room, until some of the less adventurous181 gentlemen were on the point of desisting, when they all at once found it useless to resist any longer, and submitted to be kissed with a good grace. Mr. Winkle kissed the young lady with the black eyes, and Mr. Snodgrass kissed Emily; and Mr. Weller, not being particular about the form of being under the mistletoe, kissed Emma and the other female servants, just as he caught them. As to the poor relations, they kissed everybody, not even excepting the plainer portions of the young lady visitors, who, in their excessive confusion, ran right under the mistletoe, as soon as it was hung up, without knowing it! Wardle stood with his back to the fire, surveying the whole scene, with the utmost satisfaction; and the fat boy took the opportunity of appropriating to his own use, and summarily devouring, a particularly fine mince-pie, that had been carefully put by, for somebody else.
Now, the screaming had subsided182, and faces were in a glow, and curls in a tangle183, and Mr. Pickwick, after kissing the old lady as before mentioned, was standing under the mistletoe, looking with a very pleased countenance on all that was passing around him, when the young lady with the black eyes, after a little whispering with the other young ladies, made a sudden dart184 forward, and, putting her arm round Mr. Pickwick’s neck, saluted him affectionately on the left cheek; and before Mr. Pickwick distinctly knew what was the matter, he was surrounded by the whole body, and kissed by every one of them.
It was a pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick in the centre of the group, now pulled this way, and then that, and first kissed on the chin, and then on the nose, and then on the spectacles, and to hear the peals185 of laughter which were raised on every side; but it was a still more pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick, blinded shortly afterwards with a silk handkerchief, falling up against the wall, and scrambling186 into corners, and going through all the mysteries of blind-man’s buff, with the utmost relish187 for the game, until at last he caught one of the poor relations, and then had to evade188 the blind-man himself, which he did with a nimbleness and agility189 that elicited190 the admiration191 and applause of all beholders. The poor relations caught the people who they thought would like it, and, when the game flagged, got caught themselves. When they all tired of blind-man’s buff, there was a great game at snap-dragon, and when fingers enough were burned with that, and all the raisins192 were gone, they sat down by the huge fire of blazing logs to a substantial supper, and a mighty bowl of wassail, something smaller than an ordinary wash– house copper193, in which the hot apples were hissing194 and bubbling with a rich look, and a jolly sound, that were perfectly195 irresistible196.
‘This,’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking round him, ‘this is, indeed, comfort.’ ‘Our invariable custom,’ replied Mr. Wardle. ‘Everybody sits down with us on Christmas Eve, as you see them now — servants and all; and here we wait, until the clock strikes twelve, to usher197 Christmas in, and beguile198 the time with forfeits199 and old stories. Trundle, my boy, rake up the fire.’
Up flew the bright sparks in myriads200 as the logs were stirred. The deep red blaze sent forth a rich glow, that penetrated201 into the farthest corner of the room, and cast its cheerful tint202 on every face.
‘Come,’ said Wardle, ‘a song — a Christmas song! I’ll give you one, in default of a better.’
‘Bravo!’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Fill up,’ cried Wardle. ‘It will be two hours, good, before you see the bottom of the bowl through the deep rich colour of the wassail; fill up all round, and now for the song.’
Thus saying, the merry old gentleman, in a good, round, sturdy voice, commenced without more ado —
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
‘I care not for Spring; on his fickle203 wing Let the blossoms and buds be borne; He woos them amain with his treacherous204 rain, And he scatters205 them ere the morn. An inconstant elf, he knows not himself, Nor his own changing mind an hour, He’ll smile in your face, and, with wry206 grimace207, He’ll wither208 your youngest flower.
‘Let the Summer sun to his bright home run, He shall never be sought by me; When he’s dimmed by a cloud I can laugh aloud And care not how sulky he be! For his darling child is the madness wild That sports in fierce fever’s train; And when love is too strong, it don’t last long, As many have found to their pain.
‘A mild harvest night, by the tranquil209 light Of the modest and gentle moon, Has a far sweeter sheen for me, I ween, Than the broad and unblushing noon. But every leaf awakens210 my grief, As it lieth beneath the tree; So let Autumn air be never so fair, It by no means agrees with me.
‘But my song I troll out, for CHRISTMAS Stout, The hearty, the true, and the bold; A bumper211 I drain, and with might and main Give three cheers for this Christmas old! We’ll usher him in with a merry din1 That shall gladden his joyous heart, And we’ll keep him up, while there’s bite or sup, And in fellowship good, we’ll part. ‘In his fine honest pride, he scorns to hide One jot212 of his hard-weather scars; They’re no disgrace, for there’s much the same trace On the cheeks of our bravest tars213. Then again I sing till the roof doth ring And it echoes from wall to wall — To the stout old wight, fair welcome to-night, As the King of the Seasons all!’
This song was tumultuously applauded — for friends and dependents make a capital audience — and the poor relations, especially, were in perfect ecstasies214 of rapture215. Again was the fire replenished216, and again went the wassail round.
‘How it snows!’ said one of the men, in a low tone.
‘Snows, does it?’ said Wardle.
‘Rough, cold night, Sir,’ replied the man; ‘and there’s a wind got up, that drifts it across the fields, in a thick white cloud.’
‘What does Jem say?’ inquired the old lady. ‘There ain’t anything the matter, is there?’
‘No, no, mother,’ replied Wardle; ‘he says there’s a snowdrift, and a wind that’s piercing cold. I should know that, by the way it rumbles217 in the chimney.’
‘Ah!’ said the old lady, ‘there was just such a wind, and just such a fall of snow, a good many years back, I recollect — just five years before your poor father died. It was a Christmas Eve, too; and I remember that on that very night he told us the story about the goblins that carried away old Gabriel Grub.’
‘The story about what?’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Oh, nothing, nothing,’ replied Wardle. ‘About an old sexton, that the good people down here suppose to have been carried away by goblins.’
‘Suppose!’ ejaculated the old lady. ‘Is there anybody hardy218 enough to disbelieve it? Suppose! Haven’t you heard ever since you were a child, that he WAS carried away by the goblins, and don’t you know he was?’
‘Very well, mother, he was, if you like,’ said Wardle laughing. ‘He WAS carried away by goblins, Pickwick; and there’s an end of the matter.’
‘No, no,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘not an end of it, I assure you; for I must hear how, and why, and all about it.’
Wardle smiled, as every head was bent219 forward to hear, and filling out the wassail with no stinted220 hand, nodded a health to Mr. Pickwick, and began as follows —
But bless our editorial heart, what a long chapter we have been betrayed into! We had quite forgotten all such petty restrictions221 as chapters, we solemnly declare. So here goes, to give the goblin a fair start in a new one. A clear stage and no favour for the goblins, ladies and gentlemen, if you please.
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1
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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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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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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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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goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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recurrence
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| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
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delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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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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insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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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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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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artifices
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| n.灵巧( artifice的名词复数 )；诡计；巧妙办法；虚伪行为 | |
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rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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betoken
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| v.预示 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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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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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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rattles
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| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
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undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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retails
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| n.零售( retail的名词复数 ) | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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52
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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53
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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54
holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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55
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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56
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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57
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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58
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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60
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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61
bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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62
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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63
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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64
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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65
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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66
appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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67
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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69
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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70
footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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71
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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72
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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73
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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74
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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75
elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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76
fixtures
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| （房屋等的）固定装置( fixture的名词复数 )； 如（浴盆、抽水马桶）； 固定在某位置的人或物； （定期定点举行的）体育活动 | |
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77
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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78
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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79
transacted
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| v.办理（业务等）( transact的过去式和过去分词 )；交易，谈判 | |
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80
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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81
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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82
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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83
bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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84
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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85
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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86
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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87
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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89
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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90
constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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91
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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92
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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93
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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94
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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95
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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96
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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97
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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99
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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100
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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101
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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102
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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103
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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104
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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105
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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106
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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107
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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108
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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109
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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110
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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111
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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112
truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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113
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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114
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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115
precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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116
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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117
licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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118
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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119
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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120
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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121
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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122
illegible
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| adj.难以辨认的，字迹模糊的 | |
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123
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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124
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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125
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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126
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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127
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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128
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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129
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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130
morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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131
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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132
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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133
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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134
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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135
dissertation
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| n.（博士学位）论文，学术演讲，专题论文 | |
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136
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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137
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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138
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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139
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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140
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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141
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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142
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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143
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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144
stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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145
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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146
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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147
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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148
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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149
adjourn
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| v.（使）休会，（使）休庭 | |
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150
attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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151
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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152
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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153
evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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154
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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155
revels
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| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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156
jocosely
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| adv.说玩笑地，诙谐地 | |
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157
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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158
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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159
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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160
fiddles
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| 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 | |
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161
pettishly
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162
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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163
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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164
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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165
blandness
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| n.温柔，爽快 | |
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166
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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167
gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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168
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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170
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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171
pickpocket
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| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
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172
digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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173
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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174
forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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175
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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176
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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177
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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178
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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179
veneration
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| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
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180
remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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181
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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182
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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183
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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184
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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185
peals
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| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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186
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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187
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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188
evade
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| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
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189
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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190
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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191
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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192
raisins
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| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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193
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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194
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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195
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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196
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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197
usher
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| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
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198
beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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199
forfeits
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| 罚物游戏 | |
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200
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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201
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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202
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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203
fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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204
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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205
scatters
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| v.（使）散开， （使）分散，驱散( scatter的第三人称单数 )；撒 | |
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206
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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207
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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208
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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209
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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210
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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211
bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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212
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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213
tars
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| 焦油，沥青，柏油( tar的名词复数 ) | |
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214
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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215
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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216
replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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217
rumbles
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| 隆隆声，辘辘声( rumble的名词复数 ) | |
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218
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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219
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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220
stinted
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| v.限制，节省（stint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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221
restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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