When we meet in the Square at Verona, out flash rapiers, and we fall to. But in his private mind Tybalt owns that Mercutio has a rare wit, and Mercutio is sure that his adversary26 is a gallant27 gentleman. Look at the amphitheatre yonder. You do not suppose those gladiators who fought and perished, as hundreds of spectators in that grim Circus held thumbs down, and cried, “Kill, kill!”— you do not suppose the combatants of necessity hated each other? No more than the celebrated28 trained bands of literary sword-and-buckler men hate the adversaries29 whom they meet in the arena30. They engage at the given signal; feint and parry; slash31, poke15, rip each other open, dismember limbs, and hew32 off noses: but in the way of business, and, I trust, with mutual33 private esteem34. For instance, I salute35 the warriors36 of the Superfine Company with the honors due among warriors. Here’s at you, Spartacus, my lad. A hit, I acknowledge. A palpable hit! Ha! how do you like that poke in the eye in return? When the trumpets37 sing truce38, or the spectators are tired, we bow to the noble company: withdraw; and get a cool glass of wine in our rendezvous39 des braves gladiateurs.
By the way, I saw that amphitheatre of Verona under the strange light of a lurid40 eclipse some years ago: and I have been there in spirit for these twenty lines past, under a vast gusty41 awning42, now with twenty thousand fellow-citizens looking on from the benches, now in the circus itself, a grim gladiator with sword and net, or a meek43 martyr44 — was I? — brought out to be gobbled up by the lions? or a huge, shaggy, tawny45 lion myself, on whom the dogs were going to be set? What a day of excitement I have had to be sure! But I must get away from Verona, or who knows how much farther the Roundabout Pegasus may carry me?
We were saying, my Muse46, before we dropped and perched on earth for a couple of sentences, that our unsaid words were in some limbo47 or other, as real as those we have uttered; that the thoughts which have passed through our brains are as actual as any to which our tongues and pens have given currency. For instance, besides what is here hinted at, I have thought ever so much more about Verona: about an early Christian48 church I saw there; about a great dish of rice we had at the inn; about the bugs49 there; about ever so many more details of that day’s journey from Milan to Venice; about Lake Garda, which lay on the way from Milan, and so forth50. I say what fine things we have thought of, haven’t we, all of us? Ah, what a fine tragedy that was I thought of, and never wrote! On the day of the dinner of the Oystermongers’ Company, what a noble speech I thought of in the cab, and broke down — I don’t mean the cab, but the speech. Ah, if you could but read some of the unwritten Roundabout Papers, how you would be amused! Aha! my friend, I catch you saying, “Well, then, I wish THIS was unwritten with all my heart.” Very good. I owe you one. I do confess a hit, a palpable hit.
One day in the past month, as I was reclining on the bench of thought, with that ocean The Times newspaper spread before me, the ocean cast up on the shore at my feet two famous subjects for Roundabout Papers, and I picked up those waifs, and treasured them away until I could polish them and bring them to market. That scheme is not to be carried out. I can’t write about those subjects. And though I cannot write about them, I may surely tell what are the subjects I am going NOT to write about.
The first was that Northumberland Street encounter, which all the papers have narrated51. Have any novelists of our days a scene and catastrophe52 more strange and terrible than this which occurs at noonday within a few yards of the greatest thoroughfare in Europe? At the theatres they have a new name for their melodramatic pieces, and call them “Sensation Dramas.” What a sensation Drama this is! What have people been flocking to see at the Adelphi Theatre for the last hundred and fifty nights? A woman pitched overboard out of a boat, and a certain Miles taking a tremendous “header,” and bringing her to shore? Bagatelle53! What is this compared to the real life-drama, of which a midday representation takes place just opposite the Adelphi in Northumberland Street? The brave Dumas, the intrepid54 Ainsworth, the terrible Eugene Sue, the cold-shudder-inspiring “Woman in White,” the astounding55 author of the “Mysteries of the Court of London,” never invented anything more tremendous than this. It might have happened to you and me. We want to borrow a little money. We are directed to an agent. We propose a pecuniary56 transaction at a short date. He goes into the next room, as we fancy, to get the bank-notes, and returns with “two very pretty, delicate little ivory-handled pistols,” and blows a portion of our heads off. After this, what is the use of being squeamish about the probabilities and possibilities in the writing of fiction? Years ago I remember making merry over a play of Dumas, called Kean, in which the “Coal-Hole Tavern” was represented on the Thames, with a fleet of pirate-ships moored57 alongside. Pirate-ships? Why not? What a cavern59 of terror was this in Northumberland Street, with its splendid furniture covered with dust, its empty bottles, in the midst of which sits a grim “agent,” amusing himself by firing pistols, aiming at the unconscious mantel-piece, or at the heads of his customers!
After this, what is not possible? It is possible Hungerford Market is mined, and will explode some day. Mind how you go in for a penny ice unawares. “Pray, step this way,” says a quiet person at the door. You enter — into a back room:— a quiet room; rather a dark room. “Pray, take your place in a chair.” And she goes to fetch the penny ice. Malheureux! The chair sinks down with you — sinks, and sinks, and sinks — a large wet flannel60 suddenly envelopes your face and throttles62 you. Need we say any more? After Northumberland Street, what is improbable? Surely there is no difficulty in crediting Bluebeard. I withdraw my last month’s opinions about ogres. Ogres? Why not? I protest I have seldom contemplated63 anything more terribly ludicrous than this “agent” in the dingy64 splendor65 of his den61, surrounded by dusty ormolu and piles of empty bottles, firing pistols for his diversion at the mantel-piece until his clients come in! Is pistol-practice so common in Northumberland Street, that it passes without notice in the lodging-houses there?
We spake anon of good thoughts. About bad thoughts? Is there some Northumberland Street chamber66 in your heart and mine, friend: close to the every-day street of life visited by daily friends: visited by people on business; in which affairs are transacted67; jokes are uttered; wine is drunk; through which people come and go; wives and children pass; and in which murder sits unseen until the terrible moment when he rises up and kills? A farmer, say, has a gun over the mantel-piece in his room where he sits at his daily meals and rest: caressing68 his children, joking with his friends, smoking his pipe in his calm. One night the gun is taken down: the farmer goes out: and it is a murderer who comes back and puts the piece up and drinks by that fireside. Was he a murderer yesterday when he was tossing the baby on his knee, and when his hands were playing with his little girl’s yellow hair? Yesterday there was no blood on them at all: they were shaken by honest men: have done many a kind act in their time very likely. He leans his head on one of them, the wife comes in with her anxious looks of welcome, the children are prattling69 as they did yesterday round the father’s knee at the fire, and Cain is sitting by the embers, and Abel lies dead on the moor58. Think of the gulf70 between now and yesterday. Oh, yesterday! Oh, the days when those two loved each other and said their prayers side by side! He goes to sleep, perhaps, and dreams that his brother is alive. Be true, O dream! Let him live in dreams, and wake no more. Be undone71, O crime, O crime! But the sun rises: and the officers of conscience come: and yonder lies the body on the moor. I happened to pass, and looked at the Northumberland Street house the other day. A few loiterers were gazing up at the dingy windows. A plain ordinary face of a house enough — and in a chamber in it one man suddenly rose up, pistol in hand, to slaughter72 another. Have you ever killed any one in your thoughts? Has your heart compassed any man’s death? In your mind, have you ever taken a brand from the altar, and slain73 your brother? How many plain ordinary faces of men do we look at, unknowing of murder behind those eyes? Lucky for you and me, brother, that we have good thoughts unspoken. But the bad ones? I tell you that the sight of those blank windows in Northumberland Street — through which, as it were, my mind could picture the awful tragedy glimmering74 behind — set me thinking, “Mr. Street-Preacher, here is a text for one of your pavement sermons. But it is too glum75 and serious. You eschew76 dark thoughts: and desire to be cheerful and merry in the main.” And, such being the case, you see we must have no Roundabout Essay on this subject.
Well, I had another arrow in my quiver. (So, you know, had William Tell a bolt for his son, the apple of his eye; and a shaft77 for Gessler, in case William came to any trouble with the first poor little target.) And this, I must tell you, was to have been a rare Roundabout performance — one of the very best that has ever appeared in this series. It was to have contained all the deep pathos78 of Addison; the logical precision of Rabelais; the childlike playfulness of Swift; the manly79 stoicism of Sterne; the metaphysical depth of Goldsmith; the blushing modesty80 of Fielding; the epigrammatic terseness81 of Walter Scott; the uproarious humor of Sam Richardson; and the gay simplicity82 of Sam Johnson; — it was to have combined all these qualities, with some excellences83 of modern writers whom I could name:— but circumstances have occurred which have rendered this Roundabout Essay also impossible.
I have not the least objection to tell you what was to have been the subject of that other admirable Roundabout Paper. Gracious powers! the Dean of St. Patrick’s never had a better theme. The paper was to have been on the Gorillas85, to be sure. I was going to imagine myself to be a young surgeon-apprentice from Charleston, in South Carolina, who ran away to Cuba on account of unhappy family circumstances, with which nobody has the least concern; who sailed thence to Africa in a large, roomy schooner86 with an extraordinary vacant space between decks. I was subject to dreadful ill treatment from the first mate of the ship, who, when I found she was a slaver, altogether declined to put me on shore. I was chased — we were chased — by three British frigates87 and a seventy-four, which we engaged and captured; but were obliged to scuttle88 and sink, as we could sell them in no African port: and I never shall forget the look of manly resignation, combined with considerable disgust, of the British Admiral as he walked the plank89, after cutting off his pigtail, which he handed to me, and which I still have in charge for his family at Boston, Lincolnshire, England.
We made the port of Bpoopoo, at the confluence90 of the Bungo and Sgglolo rivers (which you may see in Swammerdahl’s map) on the 31st April last year. Our passage had been so extraordinarily91 rapid, owing to the continued drunkenness of the captain and chief officers, by which I was obliged to work the ship and take her in command, that we reached Bpoopoo six weeks before we were expected, and five before the coffres from the interior and from the great slave depot92 at Zbabblo were expected. Their delay caused us not a little discomfort93, because, though we had taken the four English ships, we knew that Sir Byam Martin’s iron-cased squadron, with the “Warrior,” the “Impregnable,” the “Sanconiathon,” and the “Berosus,” were cruising in the neighborhood, and might prove too much for us.
It not only became necessary to quit Bpoopoo before the arrival of the British fleet or the rainy season, but to get our people on board as soon as might be. While the chief mate, with a detachment of seamen94, hurried forward to the Pgogo lake, where we expected a considerable part of our cargo95, the second mate, with six men, four chiefs, King Fbumbo, an Obi man, and myself, went N.W. by W., towards King Mtoby’stown, where we knew many hundreds of our between-deck passengers were to be got together. We went down the Pdodo river, shooting snipes, ostriches96, and rhinoceros97 in plenty, and I think a few elephants, until, by the advice of a guide, who I now believe was treacherous98, we were induced to leave the Pdodo, and march N.E. by N.N. Here Lieutenant99 Larkins, who had persisted in drinking rum from morning to night, and thrashing me in his sober moments during the whole journey, died, and I have too good reason to know was eaten with much relish100 by the natives. At Mgoo, where there are barracoons and a depot for our cargo, we had no news of our expected freight; accordingly, as time pressed exceedingly, parties were despatched in advance towards the great Washaboo lake, by which the caravans102 usually come towards the coast. Here we found no caravan101, but only four negroes down with the ague, whom I treated, I am bound to say, unsuccessfully, whilst we waited for our friends. We used to take watch and watch in front of the place, both to guard ourselves from attack, and get early news of the approaching caravan.
At last, on the 23rd September, as I was in advance with Charles Rogers, second mate, and two natives with bows and arrows, we were crossing a great plain skirted by a forest, when we saw emerging from a ravine what I took to be three negroes — a very tall one, one of a moderate size, and one quite little.
Our native guide shrieked103 out some words in their language, of which Charles Rogers knew something. I thought it was the advance of the negroes whom we expected. “No!” said Rogers (who swore dreadfully in conversation), “it is the Gorillas!” And he fired both barrels of his gun, bringing down the little one first, and the female afterwards.
The male, who was untouched, gave a howl that you might have heard a league off; advanced towards us as if he would attack us, and then turned and ran away with inconceivable celerity towards the wood.
We went up towards the fallen brutes104. The little one by the female appeared to be about two years old. It lay bleating105 and moaning on the ground, stretching out its little hands, with movements and looks so strangely resembling human, that my heart sickened with pity. The female, who had been shot through both legs, could not move. She howled most hideously106 when I approached the little one.
“We must be off,” said Rogers, “or the whole Gorilla84 race may be down upon us.” “The little one is only shot in the leg,” I said. “I’ll bind107 the limb up, and we will carry the beast with us on board.”
The poor little wretch108 held up its leg to show it was wounded, and looked to me with appealing eyes. It lay quite still whilst I looked for and found the bullet, and, tearing off a piece of my shirt, bandaged up the wound. I was so occupied in this business, that I hardly heard Rogers cry “Run! run!” and when I looked up —
When I looked up, with a roar the most horrible I ever heard — a roar? ten thousand roars — a whirling army of dark beings rushed by me. Rogers, who had bullied109 me so frightfully during the voyage, and who had encouraged my fatal passion for play, so that I own I owed him 1,500 dollars, was overtaken, felled, brained, and torn into ten thousand pieces; and I dare say the same fate would have fallen on me, but that the little Gorilla, whose wound I had dressed, flung its arms round my neck (their arms, you know, are much longer than ours). And when an immense gray Gorilla, with hardly any teeth, brandishing110 the trunk of a gollyboshtree about sixteen feet long, came up to me roaring, the little one squeaked111 out something plaintive112, which, of course, I could not understand; on which suddenly the monster flung down his tree, squatted113 down on his huge hams by the side of the little patient, and began to bellow114 and weep.
And now, do you see whom I had rescued? I had rescued the young Prince of the Gorillas, who was out walking with his nurse and footman. The footman had run off to alarm his master, and certainly I never saw a footman run quicker. The whole army of Gorillas rushed forward to rescue their prince, and punish his enemies. If the King Gorilla’s emotion was great, fancy what the queen’s must have been when SHE came up! She arrived, on a litter, neatly115 enough made with wattled branches, on which she lay, with her youngest child, a prince of three weeks old.
My little protege with the wounded leg, still persisted in hugging me with its arms (I think I mentioned that they are longer than those of men in general), and as the poor little brute was immensely heavy, and the Gorillas go at a prodigious116 pace, a litter was made for us likewise; and my thirst much refreshed by a footman (the same domestic who had given the alarm) running hand over hand up a cocoanut-tree, tearing the rinds off, breaking the shell on his head, and handing me the fresh milk in its cup. My little patient partook of a little, stretching out its dear little unwounded foot, with which, or with its hand, a Gorilla can help itself indiscriminately. Relays of large Gorillas relieved each other at the litters at intervals117 of twenty minutes, as I calculated by my watch, one of Jones and Bates’s, of Boston, Mass., though I have been unable to this day to ascertain118 how these animals calculate time with such surprising accuracy. We slept for that night under —
And now, you see, we arrive at really the most interesting part of my travels in the country which I intended to visit, viz. the manners and habits of the Gorillas chez eux. I give the heads of this narrative119 only, the full account being suppressed for a reason which shall presently be given. The heads, then, of the chapters, are briefly120 as follows:—
The author’s arrival in the Gorilla country. Its geographical121 position. Lodgings122 assigned to him up a gum-tree. Constant attachment123 of the little prince. His royal highness’s gratitude124. Anecdotes125 of his wit, playfulness, and extraordinary precocity126. Am offered a portion of poor Larkins for my supper, but decline with horror. Footman brings me a young crocodile: fishy127 but very palatable128. Old crocodiles too tough: ditto rhinoceros. Visit the queen mother — an enormous old Gorilla, quite white. Prescribe for her majesty129. Meeting of Gorillas at what appears a parliament amongst them: presided over by old Gorilla in cocoanut-fibre wig130. Their sports. Their customs. A privileged class amongst them. Extraordinary likeness131 of Gorillas to people at home, both at Charleston, S. C., my native place; and London, England, which I have visited. Flat-nosed Gorillas and blue-nosed Gorillas; their hatred132, and wars between them. In a part of the country (its geographical position described) I see several negroes under Gorilla domination. Well treated by their masters. Frog-eating Gorillas across the Salt Lake. Bull-headed Gorillas — their mutual hostility133. Green Island Gorillas. More quarrelsome than the Bull-heads, and howl much louder. I am called to attend one of the princesses. Evident partiality of H. R. H. for me. Jealousy134 and rage of large red-headed Gorilla. How shall I escape?
Ay, how indeed? Do you wish to know? Is your curiosity excited? Well, I DO know how I escaped. I could tell the most extraordinary adventures that happened to me. I could show you resemblances to people at home, that would make them blue with rage and you crack your sides with laughter. . . . And what is the reason I cannot write this paper, having all the facts before me? The reason is, that walking down St. James Street yesterday, I met a friend who says to me, “Roundabout my boy, have you seen your picture? Here it is!” And he pulls out a portrait, executed in photography, of your humble135 servant, as an immense and most unpleasant-featured baboon136, with long hairy hands, and called by the waggish137 artist “A Literary Gorilla.” O horror! And now you see why I can’t play off this joke myself, and moralize on the fable138, as it has been narrated already DE ME.
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1
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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genie
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| n.妖怪，神怪 | |
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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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maligned
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| vt.污蔑，诽谤（malign的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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supplanted
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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construing
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| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的现在分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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buffer
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| n.起缓冲作用的人(或物)，缓冲器；vt.缓冲 | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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hew
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| v.砍；伐；削 | |
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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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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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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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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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45
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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limbo
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| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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49
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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50
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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51
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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53
bagatelle
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| n.琐事；小曲儿 | |
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54
intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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55
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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56
pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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57
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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58
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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59
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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60
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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61
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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62
throttles
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| n.控制油、气流的阀门( throttle的名词复数 )；喉咙，气管v.扼杀( throttle的第三人称单数 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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63
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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64
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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65
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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66
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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67
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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68
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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69
prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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70
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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71
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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72
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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73
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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74
glimmering
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| 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 ) | |
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75
glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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76
eschew
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| v.避开，戒绝 | |
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77
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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78
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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79
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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80
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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81
terseness
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| 简洁，精练 | |
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82
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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83
excellences
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| n.卓越( excellence的名词复数 )；（只用于所修饰的名词后）杰出的；卓越的；出类拔萃的 | |
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84
gorilla
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| n.大猩猩，暴徒，打手 | |
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85
gorillas
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| n.大猩猩( gorilla的名词复数 )；暴徒，打手 | |
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86
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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87
frigates
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| n.快速军舰( frigate的名词复数 ) | |
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88
scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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89
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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90
confluence
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| n.汇合，聚集 | |
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91
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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92
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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93
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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94
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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95
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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96
ostriches
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| n.鸵鸟( ostrich的名词复数 )；逃避现实的人，不愿正视现实者 | |
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97
rhinoceros
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| n.犀牛 | |
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98
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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99
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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100
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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101
caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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102
caravans
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| （可供居住的）拖车（通常由机动车拖行）( caravan的名词复数 )； 篷车； （穿过沙漠地带的）旅行队（如商队） | |
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103
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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105
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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106
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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107
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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108
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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109
bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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111
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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112
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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113
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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114
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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115
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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116
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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117
intervals
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| 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 | |
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118
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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119
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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120
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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121
geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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122
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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123
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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124
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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125
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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126
precocity
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| n.早熟，早成 | |
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127
fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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128
palatable
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| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
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129
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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130
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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131
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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132
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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133
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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134
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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135
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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136
baboon
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| n.狒狒 | |
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137
waggish
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| adj.诙谐的，滑稽的 | |
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138
fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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