After an early breakfast at Morristown, the tobacco pedlar, whose name was Dominicus Pike, had travelled seven miles through a solitary7 piece of woods, without speaking a word to anybody but himself and his little gray mare. It being nearly seven o’clock, he was as eager to hold a morning gossip as a city shopkeeper to read the morning paper. An opportunity seemed at hand when, after lighting9 a cigar with a sun-glass, he looked up, and perceived a man coming over the brow of the hill, at the foot of which the pedlar had stopped his green cart. Dominicus watched him as he descended11, and noticed that he carried a bundle over his shoulder on the end of a stick, and travelled with a weary, yet determined12 pace. He did not look as if he had started in the freshness of the morning, but had footed it all night, and meant to do the same all day.
“Good morning, mister,” said Dominicus, when within speaking distance. “You go a pretty good jog. What’s the latest news at Parker’s Falls?”
The man pulled the broad brim of a gray hat over his eyes, and answered, rather sullenly13, that he did not come from Parker’s Falls, which, as being the limit of his own day’s journey, the pedlar had naturally mentioned in his inquiry14.
“Well then,” rejoined Dominicus Pike, “let’s have the latest news where you did come from. I’m not particular about Parker’s Falls. Any place will answer.”
Being thus importuned15, the traveller — who was as ill looking a fellow as one would desire to meet in a solitary piece of woods — appeared to hesitate a little, as if he was either searching his memory for news, or weighing the expediency16 of telling it. At last, mounting on the step of the cart, he whispered in the ear of Dominicus, though he might have shouted aloud and no other mortal would have heard him.
“I do remember one little trifle of news,” said he. “Old Mr. Higginbotham, of Kimballton, was murdered in his orchard17, at eight o’clock last night, by an Irishman and a nigger. They strung him up to the branch of a St. Michael’s pear-tree, where nobody would find him till the morning.”
As soon as this horrible intelligence was communicated, the stranger betook himself to his journey again, with more speed than ever, not even turning his head when Dominicus invited him to smoke a Spanish cigar and relate all the particulars. The pedlar whistled to his mare and went up the hill, pondering on the doleful fate of Mr. Higginbotham whom he had known in the way of trade, having sold him many a bunch of long nines, and a great deal of pigtail, lady’s twist, and fig18 tobacco. He was rather astonished at the rapidity with which the news had spread. Kimballton was nearly sixty miles distant in a straight line; the murder had been perpetrated only at eight o’clock the preceding night; yet Dominicus had heard of it at seven in the morning, when, in all probability, poor Mr. Higginbotham’s own family had but just discovered his corpse19, hanging on the St. Michael’s pear-tree. The stranger on foot must have worn seven-league boots to travel at such a rate.
“Ill news flies fast, they say,” thought Dominicus Pike; “but this beats railroads. The fellow ought to be hired to go express with the President’s Message.”
The difficulty was solved by supposing that the narrator had made a mistake of one day in the date of the occurrence; so that our friend did not hesitate to introduce the story at every tavern20 and country store along the road, expending21 a whole bunch of Spanish wrappers among at least twenty horrified22 audiences. He found himself invariably the first bearer of the intelligence, and was so pestered23 with questions that he could not avoid filling up the outline, till it became quite a respectable narrative24. He met with one piece of corroborative25 evidence. Mr. Higginbotham was a trader; and a former clerk of his, to whom Dominicus related the facts, testified that the old gentleman was accustomed to return home through the orchard about nightfall, with the money and valuable papers of the store in his pocket. The clerk manifested but little grief at Mr. Higginbotham’s catastrophe26, hinting, what the pedlar had discovered in his own dealings with him, that he was a crusty old fellow, as close as a vice27. His property would descend10 to a pretty niece who was now keeping school in Kimballton.
What with telling the news for the public good, and driving bargains for his own, Dominicus was so much delayed on the road that he chose to put up at a tavern, about five miles short of Parker’s Falls. After supper, lighting one of his prime cigars, he seated himself in the bar-room, and went through the story of the murder, which had grown so fast that it took him half an hour to tell. There were as many as twenty people in the room, nineteen of whom received it all for gospel. But the twentieth was an elderly farmer, who had arrived on horseback a short time before, and was now seated in a corner smoking his pipe. When the story was concluded, he rose up very deliberately28, brought his chair right in front of Dominicus, and stared him full in the face, puffing29 out the vilest30 tobacco smoke the pedlar had ever smelt31.
“Will you make affidavit,” demanded he, in the tone of a country justice taking an examination, “that old Squire32 Higginbotham of Kimballton was murdered in his orchard the night before last, and found hanging on his great pear-tree yesterday morning?”
“I tell the story as I heard it, mister,” answered Dominicus, dropping his half-burnt cigar; “I don’t say that I saw the thing done. So I can’t take my oath that he was murdered exactly in that way.”
“But I can take mine,” said the farmer, “that if Squire Higginbotham was murdered night before last, I drank a glass of bitters with his ghost this morning. Being a neighbor of mine, he called me into his store, as I was riding by, and treated me, and then asked me to do a little business for him on the road. He didn’t seem to know any more about his own murder than I did.”
“Why, then, it can’t be a fact!” exclaimed Dominicus Pike.
“I guess he’d have mentioned, if it was,” said the old farmer; and he removed his chair back to the corner, leaving Dominicus quite down in the mouth.
Here was a sad resurrection of old Mr. Higginbotham! The pedlar had no heart to mingle33 in the conversation any more, but comforted himself with a glass of gin and water, and went to bed where, all night long, he dreamed of hanging on the St. Michael’s pear-tree. To avoid the old farmer (whom he so detested34 that his suspension would have pleased him better than Mr. Higginbotham’s), Dominicus rose in the gray of the morning, put the little mare into the green cart, and trotted36 swiftly away towards Parker’s Falls. The fresh breeze, the dewy road, and the pleasant summer dawn, revived his spirits, and might have encouraged him to repeat the old story had there been anybody awake to hear it. But he met neither ox team, light wagon37 chaise, horseman, nor foot traveller, till, just as he crossed Salmon River, a man came trudging38 down to the bridge with a bundle over his shoulder, on the end of a stick.
“Good morning, mister,” said the pedlar, reining40 in his mare. “If you come from Kimballton or that neighborhood, may be you can tell me the real fact about this affair of old Mr. Higginbotham. Was the old fellow actually murdered two or three nights ago, by an Irishman and a nigger?”
Dominicus had spoken in too great a hurry to observe, at first, that the stranger himself had a deep tinge42 of negro blood. On hearing this sudden question, the Ethiopian appeared to change his skin, its yellow hue43 becoming a ghastly white, while, shaking and stammering44, he thus replied:“No! no! There was no colored man! It was an Irishman that hanged him last night, at eight o’clock. I came away at seven! His folks can’t have looked for him in the orchard yet.”
Scarcely had the yellow man spoken, when he interrupted himself, and though he seemed weary enough before, continued his journey at a pace which would have kept the pedlar’s mare on a smart trot35. Dominicus stared after him in great perplexity. If the murder had not been committed till Tuesday night, who was the prophet that had foretold45 it, in all its circumstances, on Tuesday morning? If Mr. Higginbotham’s corpse were not yet discovered by his own family, how came the mulatto, at above thirty miles’ distance, to know that he was hanging in the orchard, especially as he had left Kimballton before the unfortunate man was hanged at all? These ambiguous circumstances, with the stranger’s surprise and terror, made Dominicus think of raising a hue and cry after him, as an accomplice46 in the murder; since a murder, it seemed, had really been perpetrated.
“But let the poor devil go,” thought the pedlar. “I don’t want his black blood on my head; and hanging the nigger wouldn’t unhang Mr. Higginbotham. Unhang the old gentleman; It’s a sin, I know; but I should hate to have him come to life a second time, and give me the lie!”
With these meditations47, Dominicus Pike drove into the street of Parker’s Falls, which, as everybody knows, is as thriving a village as three cotton factories and a slitting48 mill can make it. The machinery49 was not in motion, and but a few of the shop doors unbarred, when he alighted in the stable yard of the tavern, and made it his first business to order the mare four quarts of oats. His second duty, of course, was to impart Mr. Higginbotham’s catastrophe to the hostler. He deemed it advisable, however, not to be too positive as to the date of the direful fact, and also to be uncertain whether it were perpetrated by an Irishman and a mulatto, or by the son of Erin alone. Neither did he profess50 to relate it on his own authority, or that of any one person; but mentioned it as a report generally diffused51.
The story ran through the town like fire among girdled trees, and became so much the universal talk that nobody could tell whence it had originated. Mr. Higginbotham was as well known at Parker’s Falls as any citizen of the place, being part owner of the slitting mill, and a considerable stockholder in the cotton factories. The inhabitants felt their own prosperity interested in his fate. Such was the excitement, that the Parker’s Falls Gazette anticipated its regular day of publication, and came out with half a form of blank paper and a column of double pica emphasized with capitals, and headed HORRID52 MURDER OF MR. HIGGINBOTHAM! Among other dreadful details, the printed account described the mark of the cord round the dead man’s neck, and stated the number of thousand dollars of which he had been robbed; there was much pathos53 also about the affliction of his niece, who had gone from one fainting fit to another, ever since her uncle was found hanging on the St. Michael’s pear-tree with his pockets inside out. The village poet likewise commemorated54 the young lady’s grief in seventeen stanzas55 of a ballad56. The selectmen held a meeting, and, in consideration of Mr. Higginbotham’s claims on the town, determined to issue handbills, offering a reward of five hundred dollars for the apprehension57 of his murderers, and the recovery of the stolen property.
Meanwhile the whole population of Parker’s Falls, consisting of shopkeepers, mistresses of boarding-houses, factory girls, millmen, and schoolboys, rushed into the street and kept up such a terrible loquacity58 as more than compensated59 for the silence of the cotton machines, which refrained from their usual din3 out of respect to the deceased. Had Mr. Higginbotham cared about posthumous60 renown61, his untimely ghost would have exulted62 in this tumult63. Our friend Dominicus, in his vanity of heart, forgot his intended precautions, and mounting on the town pump, announced himself as the bearer of the authentic64 intelligence which had caused so wonderful a sensation. He immediately became the great man of the moment, and had just begun a new edition of the narrative, with a voice like a field preacher, when the mail stage drove into the village street. It had travelled all night, and must have shifted horses at Kimballton, at three in the morning.
“Now we shall hear all the particulars,” shouted the crowd.
The coach rumbled65 up to the piazza66 of the tavern, followed by a thousand people; for if any man had been minding his own business till then, he now left it at sixes and sevens, to hear the news. The pedlar, foremost in the race, discovered two passengers, both of whom had been startled from a comfortable nap to find themselves in the centre of a mob. Every man assailing67 them with separate questions, all propounded68 at once, the couple were struck speechless, though one was a lawyer and the other a young lady.
“Mr. Higginbotham! Mr. Higginbotham! Tell us the particulars about old Mr. Higginbotham!” bawled69 the mob. “What is the coroner’s verdict? Are the murderers apprehended70? Is Mr. Higginbotham’s niece come out of her fainting fits? Mr. Higginbotham! Mr. Higginbotham!!”
The coachman said not a word, except to swear awfully71 at the hostler for not bringing him a fresh team of horses. The lawyer inside had generally his wits about him even when asleep; the first thing he did, after learning the cause of the excitement, was to produce a large, red pocketbook. Meantime Dominicus Pike, being an extremely polite young man, and also suspecting that a female tongue would tell the story as glibly72 as a lawyer’s, had handed the lady out of the coach. She was a fine, smart girl, now wide awake and bright as a button, and had such a sweet pretty mouth, that Dominicus would almost as lief have heard a love tale from it as a tale of murder.
“Gentlemen and ladies,” said the lawyer to the shopkeepers, the millmen, and the factory girls, “I can assure you that some unaccountable mistake, or, more probably, a wilful74 falsehood, maliciously75 contrived76 to injure Mr. Higginbotham’s credit, has excited this singular uproar77. We passed through Kimballton at three o’clock this morning, and most certainly should have been informed of the murder had any been perpetrated. But I have proof nearly as strong as Mr. Higginbotham’s own oral testimony78, in the negative. Here is a note relating to a suit of his in the Connecticut courts, which was delivered me from that gentleman himself. I find it dated at ten o’clock last evening.”
So saying, the lawyer exhibited the date and signature of the note, which irrefragably proved, either that this perverse79 Mr. Higginbotham was alive when he wrote it, or — as some deemed the more probable case, of two doubtful ones — that he was so absorbed in worldly business as to continue to transact80 it even after his death. But unexpected evidence was forthcoming. The young lady, after listening to the pedlar’s explanation, merely seized a moment to smooth her gown and put her curls in order, and then appeared at the tavern door, making a modest signal to be heard.
“Good people,” said she, “I am Mr. Higginbotham’s niece.”
A wondering murmur81 passed through the crowd on beholding82 her so rosy83 and bright; that same unhappy niece, whom they had supposed, on the authority of the Parker’s Falls Gazette, to be lying at death’s door in a fainting fit. But some shrewd fellows had doubted, all along, whether a young lady would be quite so desperate at the hanging of a rich old uncle.
“You see,” continued Miss Higginbotham, with a smile, “that this strange story is quite unfounded as to myself; and I believe I may affirm it to be equally so in regard to my dear uncle Higginbotham. He has the kindness to give me a home in his house, though I contribute to my own support by teaching a school. I left Kimballton this morning to spend the vacation of commencement week with a friend, about five miles from Parker’s Falls. My generous uncle, when he heard me on the stairs, called me to his bedside, and gave me two dollars and fifty cents to pay my stage fare, and another dollar for my extra expenses. He then laid his pocketbook under his pillow, shook hands with me, and advised me to take some biscuit in my bag, instead of breakfasting on the road. I feel confident, therefore, that I left my beloved relative alive, and trust that I shall find him so on my return.”
The young lady courtesied at the close of her speech, which was so sensible and well worded, and delivered with such grace and propriety84, that everybody thought her fit to be preceptress of the best academy in the State. But a stranger would have supposed that Mr. Higginbotham was an object of abhorrence85 at Parker’s Falls, and that a thanksgiving had been proclaimed for his murder; so excessive was the wrath86 of the inhabitants on learning their mistake. The millmen resolved to bestow87 public honors on Dominicus Pike, only hesitating whether to tar8 and feather him, ride him on a rail, or refresh him with an ablution at the town pump, on the top of which he had declared himself the bearer of the news. The selectmen, by advice of the lawyer, spoke41 of prosecuting88 him for a misdemeanor, in circulating unfounded reports, to the great disturbance89 of the peace of the Commonwealth90. Nothing saved Dominicus, either from mob law or a court of justice, but an eloquent91 appeal made by the young lady in his behalf. Addressing a few words of heartfelt gratitude92 to his benefactress, he mounted the green cart and rode out of town, under a discharge of artillery93 from the school-boys, who found plenty of ammunition94 in the neighboring clay-pits and mud holes. As he turned his head to exchange a farewell glance with Mr. Higginbotham’s niece, a ball, of the consistence of hasty pudding, hit him slap in the mouth, giving him a most grim aspect. His whole person was so bespattered with the like filthy95 missiles, that he had almost a mind to ride back, and supplicate96 for the threatened ablution at the town pump; for, though not meant in kindness, it would now have been a deed of charity.
However, the sun shone bright on poor Dominicus, and the mud, an emblem97 of all stains of undeserved opprobrium98, was easily brushed off when dry. Being a funny rogue99, his heart soon cheered up; nor could he refrain from a hearty100 laugh at the uproar which his story had excited. The handbills of the selectmen would cause the commitment of all the vagabonds in the State; the paragraph in the Parker’s Falls Gazette would be reprinted from Maine to Florida, and perhaps form an item in the London newspapers; and many a miser101 would tremble for his money bags and life, on learning the catastrophe of Mr. Higginbotham. The pedlar meditated102 with much fervor103 on the charms of the young schoolmistress, and swore that Daniel Webster never spoke nor looked so like an angel as Miss Higginbotham, while defending him from the wrathful populace at Parker’s Falls.
Dominicus was now on the Kimballton turnpike, having all along determined to visit that place, though business had drawn104 him out of the most direct road from Morristown. As he approached the scene of the supposed murder, he continued to revolve105 the circumstances in his mind, and was astonished at the aspect which the whole case assumed. Had nothing occurred to corroborate106 the story of the first traveller, it might now have been considered as a hoax107; but the yellow man was evidently acquainted either with the report or the fact; and there was a mystery in his dismayed and guilty look on being abruptly108 questioned. When, to this singular combination of incidents, it was added that the rumor109 tallied110 exactly with Mr. Higginbotham’s character and habits of life; and that he had an orchard, and a St. Michael’s pear-tree, near which he always passed at nightfall: the circumstantial evidence appeared so strong that Dominicus doubted whether the autograph produced by the lawyer, or even the niece’s direct testimony, ought to be equivalent. Making cautious inquiries111 along the road, the pedlar further learned that Mr. Higginbotham had in his service an Irishman of doubtful character, whom he had hired without a recommendation, on the score of economy.
“May I be hanged myself,” exclaimed Dominicus Pike aloud, on reaching the top of a lonely hill, “if I’ll believe old Higginbotham is unhanged till I see him with my own eyes, and hear it from his own mouth! And as he’s a real shaver, I’ll have the minister or some other responsible man for an indorser.”
It was growing dusk when he reached the toll-house on Kimballton turnpike, about a quarter of a mile from the village of this name. His little mare was fast bringing him up with a man on horseback, who trotted through the gate a few rods in advance of him, nodded to the toll-gatherer, and kept on towards the village. Dominicus was acquainted with the tollman, and, while making change, the usual remarks on the weather passed between them.
“I suppose,” said the pedlar, throwing back his whiplash, to bring it down like a feather on the mare’s flank, “you have not seen anything of old Mr. Higginbotham within a day or two?”
“Yes,” answered the toll-gatherer. “He passed the gate just before you drove up, and yonder he rides now, if you can see him through the dusk. He’s been to Woodfield this afternoon, attending a sheriff’s sale there. The old man generally shakes hands and has a little chat with me; but to-night, he nodded — as if to say, ‘Charge my toll,’ and jogged on; for wherever he goes, he must always be at home by eight o’clock.”
“So they tell me,” said Dominicus.
“I never saw a man look so yellow and thin as the squire does,” continued the toll-gatherer. “Says I to myself, to-night, he’s more like a ghost or an old mummy than good flesh and blood.”
The pedlar strained his eyes through the twilight112, and could just discern the horseman now far ahead on the village road. He seemed to recognize the rear of Mr. Higginbotham; but through the evening shadows, and amid the dust from the horse’s feet, the figure appeared dim and unsubstantial; as if the shape of the mysterious old man were faintly moulded of darkness and gray light. Dominicus shivered.
“Mr. Higginbotham has come back from the other world, by way of the Kimballton turnpike,” thought he.
He shook the reins113 and rode forward, keeping about the same distance in the rear of the gray old shadow, till the latter was concealed114 by a bend of the road. On reaching this point, the pedlar no longer saw the man on horseback, but found himself at the head of the village street, not far from a number of stores and two taverns115, clustered round the meeting-house steeple. On his left were a stone wall and a gate, the boundary of a woodlot, beyond which lay an orchard, farther still, a mowing116 field, and last of all, a house. These were the premises117 of Mr. Higginbotham, whose dwelling118 stood beside the old highway, but had been left in the background by the Kimballton turnpike. Dominicus knew the place; and the little mare stopped short by instinct; for he was not conscious of tightening119 the reins.
“For the soul of me, I cannot get by this gate!” said he, trembling. “I never shall be my own man again, till I see whether Mr. Higginbotham is hanging on the St. Michael’s pear-tree!”
He leaped from the cart, gave the rein39 a turn round the gate post, and ran along the green path of the wood-lot as if Old Nick were chasing behind. Just then the village clock tolled120 eight, and as each deep stroke fell, Dominicus gave a fresh bound and flew faster than before, till, dim in the solitary centre of the orchard, he saw the fated pear-tree. One great branch stretched from the old contorted trunk across the path, and threw the darkest shadow on that one spot. But something seemed to struggle beneath the branch!
The pedlar had never pretended to more courage than befits a man of peaceful occupation, nor could he account for his valor121 on this awful emergency. Certain it is, however, that he rushed forward, prostrated122 a sturdy Irishman with the butt73 end of his whip, and found — not indeed hanging on the St. Michael’s pear-tree, but trembling beneath it, with a halter round his neck — the old, identical Mr. Higginbotham!
“Mr. Higginbotham,” said Dominicus tremulously, “you’re an honest man, and I’ll take your word for it. Have you been hanged or not?”
If the riddle123 be not already guessed, a few words will explain the simple machinery by which this “coming event” was made to “cast its shadow before.” Three men had plotted the robbery and murder of Mr. Higginbotham; two of them, successively, lost courage and fled, each delaying the crime one night by their disappearance124; the third was in the act of perpetration, when a champion, blindly obeying the call of fate, like the heroes of old romance, appeared in the person of Dominicus Pike.
It only remains125 to say, that Mr. Higginbotham took the pedlar into high favor, sanctioned his addresses to the pretty schoolmistress, and settled his whole property on their children, allowing themselves the interest. In due time, the old gentleman capped the climax126 of his favors, by dying a Christian127 death, in bed, since which melancholy128 event Dominicus Pike has removed from Kimballton, and established a large tobacco manufactory in my native village.
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1
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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importuned
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| v.纠缠，向（某人）不断要求( importune的过去式和过去分词 )；（妓女）拉（客） | |
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expediency
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| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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expending
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| v.花费( expend的现在分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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horrified
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pestered
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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narrative
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corroborative
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catastrophe
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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vilest
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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34
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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36
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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37
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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38
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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39
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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40
reining
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的现在分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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41
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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42
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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43
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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44
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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45
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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47
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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48
slitting
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| n.纵裂（缝）v.切开，撕开( slit的现在分词 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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49
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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50
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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51
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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52
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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53
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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54
commemorated
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
stanzas
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| 节，段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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56
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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57
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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58
loquacity
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| n.多话，饶舌 | |
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59
compensated
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| 补偿，报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 )； 给（某人）赔偿（或赔款） | |
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60
posthumous
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| adj.遗腹的；父亡后出生的；死后的，身后的 | |
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61
renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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62
exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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64
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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65
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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66
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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67
assailing
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| v.攻击( assail的现在分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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68
propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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70
apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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71
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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72
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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73
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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74
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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75
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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76
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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77
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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78
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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79
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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80
transact
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| v.处理；做交易；谈判 | |
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81
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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82
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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83
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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84
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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85
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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86
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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87
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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88
prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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89
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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90
commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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91
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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92
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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93
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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94
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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95
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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96
supplicate
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| v.恳求；adv.祈求地，哀求地，恳求地 | |
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97
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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98
opprobrium
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| n.耻辱，责难 | |
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99
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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100
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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101
miser
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| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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102
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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103
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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104
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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105
revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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106
corroborate
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| v.支持，证实，确定 | |
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107
hoax
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| v.欺骗，哄骗，愚弄；n.愚弄人，恶作剧 | |
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108
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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109
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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110
tallied
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| v.计算，清点( tally的过去式和过去分词 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
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111
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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112
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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113
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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114
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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115
taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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116
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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117
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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118
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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119
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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120
tolled
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| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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121
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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122
prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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123
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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124
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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125
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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126
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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127
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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128
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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