The Province House is constructed of brick, which seems recently to have been overlaid with a coat of light-colored paint. A flight of red freestone steps, fenced in by a balustrade of curiously11 wrought12 iron, ascends13 from the court-yard to the spacious15 porch, over which is a balcony, with an iron balustrade of similar pattern and workmanship to that beneath. These letters and figures — 16 P.S. 79 — are wrought into the iron work of the balcony, and probably express the date of the edifice, with the initials of its founder’s name. A wide door with double leaves admitted me into the hall or entry, on the right of which is the entrance to the bar-room.
It was in this apartment, I presume, that the ancient governors held their levees, with vice-regal pomp, surrounded by the military men, the councillors, the judges, and other officers of the crown, while all the loyalty16 of the province thronged18 to do them honor. But the room, in its present condition, cannot boast even of faded magnificence. The panelled wainscot is covered with dingy19 paint, and acquires a duskier hue20 from the deep shadow into which the Province House is thrown by the brick block that shuts it in from Washington Street. A ray of sunshine never visits this apartment any more than the glare of the festal torches, which have been extinguished from the era of the Revolution. The most venerable and ornamental22 object is a chimney-piece set round with Dutch tiles of blue-figured China, representing scenes from Scripture23; and, for aught I know, the lady of Pownall or Bernard may have sat beside this fireplace, and told her children the story of each blue tile. A bar in modern style, well replenished24 with decanters, bottles, cigar boxes, and net-work bags of lemons, and provided with a beer pump, and a soda25 fount, extends along one side of the room. At my entrance, an elderly person was smacking26 his lips with a zest28 which satisfied me that the cellars of the Province House still hold good liquor, though doubtless of other vintages than were quaffed29 by the old governors. After sipping30 a glass of port sangaree, prepared by the skilful31 hands of Mr. Thomas Waite, I besought32 that worthy33 successor and representative of so many historic personages to conduct me over their time honored mansion.
He readily complied; but, to confess the truth, I was forced to draw strenuously34 upon my imagination, in order to find aught that was interesting in a house which, without its historic associations, would have seemed merely such a tavern35 as is usually favored by the custom of decent city boarders, and old-fashioned country gentlemen. The chambers36, which were probably spacious in former times, are now cut up by partitions, and subdivided38 into little nooks, each affording scanty39 room for the narrow bed and chair and dressing-table of a single lodger40. The great staircase, however, may be termed, without much hyperbole, a feature of grandeur41 and magnificence. It winds through the midst of the house by flights of broad steps, each flight terminating in a square landing-place, whence the ascent42 is continued towards the cupola. A carved balustrade, freshly painted in the lower stories, but growing dingier45 as we ascend14, borders the staircase with its quaintly46 twisted and intertwined pillars, from top to bottom. Up these stairs the military boots, or perchance the gouty shoes, of many a governor have trodden, as the wearers mounted to the cupola, which afforded them so wide a view over their metropolis47 and the surrounding country. The cupola is an octagon, with several windows, and a door opening upon the roof. From this station, as I pleased myself with imagining, Gage48 may have beheld49 his disastrous50 victory on Bunker Hill (unless one of the tri-mountains intervened), and Howe have marked the approaches of Washington’s besieging51 army; although the buildings since erected52 in the vicinity have shut out almost every object, save the steeple of the Old South, which seems almost within arm’s length. Descending54 from the cupola, I paused in the garret to observe the ponderous55 white-oak framework, so much more massive than the frames of modern houses, and thereby56 resembling an antique skeleton. The brick walls, the materials of which were imported from Holland, and the timbers of the mansion, are still as sound as ever; but the floors and other interior parts being greatly decayed, it is contemplated57 to gut58 the whole, and build a new house within the ancient frame and brick work. Among other inconveniences of the present edifice, mine host mentioned that any jar or motion was apt to shake down the dust of ages out of the ceiling of one chamber37 upon the floor of that beneath it.
We stepped forth59 from the great front window into the balcony, where, in old times, it was doubtless the custom of the king’s representative to Show himself to a loyal populace, requiting60 their huzzas and tossed-up hats with stately bendings of his dignified61 person. In those days the front of the Province House looked upon the street; and the whole site now occupied by the brick range of stores, as well as the present court-yard, was laid out in grass plats, overshadowed by trees and bordered by a wrought-iron fence. Now, the old aristocratic edifice hides its time-worn visage behind an upstart modern building; at one of the back windows I observed some pretty tailoresses, sewing and chatting and laughing, with now and then a careless glance towards the balcony. Descending thence, we again entered the bar-room, where the elderly gentleman above mentioned, the smack27 of whose lips had spoken so favorably for Mr. Waite’s good liquor, was still lounging in his chair. He seemed to be, if not a lodger, at least a familiar visitor of the house, who might be supposed to have his regular score at the bar, his summer seat at the open window, and his prescriptive corner at the winter’s fireside. Being of a sociable62 aspect, I ventured to address him with a remark calculated to draw forth his historical reminiscences, if any such were in his mind; and it gratified me to discover, that, between memory and tradition, the old gentleman was really possessed63 of some very pleasant gossip about the Province House. The portion of his talk which chiefly interested me was the outline of the following legend. He professed64 to have received it at one or two removes from an eye-witness; but this derivation, together with the lapse65 of time, must have afforded opportunities for many variations of the narrative66; so that despairing of literal and absolute truth, I have not scrupled67 to make such further changes as seemed conducive68 to the reader’s profit and delight.
At one of the entertainments given at the Province House, during the latter part of the siege of Boston, there passed a scene which has never yet been satisfactorily explained. The officers of the British army, and the loyal gentry69 of the province, most of whom were collected within the beleaguered70 town, had been invited to a masked ball; for it was the policy of Sir William Howe to hide the distress71 and danger of the period, and the desperate aspect of the siege, under an ostentation72 of festivity. The spectacle of this evening, if the oldest members of the provincial73 court circle might be believed, was the most gay and gorgeous affair that had occurred in the annals of the government. The brilliantly-lighted apartments were thronged with figures that seemed to have stepped from the dark canvas of historic portraits, or to have flitted forth from the magic pages of romance, or at least to have flown hither from one of the London theatres, without a change of garments. Steeled knights74 of the Conquest, bearded statesmen of Queen Elizabeth, and high-ruffled ladies of her court, were mingled75 with characters of comedy, such as a party-colored Merry Andrew, jingling76 his cap and bells; a Falstaff, almost as provocative77 of laughter as his prototype; and a Don Quixote, with a bean pole for a lance, and a pot lid for a shield.
But the broadest merriment was excited by a group of figures ridiculously dressed in old regimentals, which seemed to have been purchased at a military rag fair, or pilfered78 from some receptacle of the cast-off clothes of both the French and British armies. Portions of their attire79 had probably been worn at the siege of Louisburg, and the coats of most recent cut might have been rent and tattered80 by sword, ball, or bayonet, as long ago as Wolfe’s victory. One of these worthies81 — a tall, lank82 figure, brandishing83 a rusty84 sword of immense longitude85 — purported86 to be no less a personage than General George Washington; and the other principal officers of the American army, such as Gates, Lee, Putnam, Schuyler, Ward44 and Heath, were represented by similar scarecrows. An interview in the mock heroic style, between the rebel warriors87 and the British commander-in-chief, was received with immense applause, which came loudest of all from the loyalists of the colony. There was one of the guests, however, who stood apart, eyeing these antics sternly and scornfully, at once with a frown and a bitter smile.
It was an old man, formerly88 of high station and great repute in the province, and who had been a very famous soldier in his day. Some surprise had been expressed that a person of Colonel Joliffe’s known Whig principles, though now too old to take an active part in the contest, should have remained in Boston during the siege, and especially that he should consent to show himself in the mansion of Sir William Howe. But thither89 he had come, with a fair granddaughter under his arm; and there, amid all the mirth and buffoonery, stood this stern old figure, the best sustained character in the masquerade, because so well representing the antique spirit of his native land. The other guests affirmed that Colonel Joliffe’s black puritanical90 scowl91 threw a shadow round about him; although in spite of his sombre influence their gayety continued to blaze higher, like —(an ominous92 comparison)— the flickering93 brilliancy of a lamp which has but a little while to burn. Eleven strokes, full half an hour ago, had pealed95 from the clock of the Old South, when a rumor96 was circulated among the company that some new spectacle or pageant97 was about to be exhibited, which should put a fitting close to the splendid festivities of the night.
“What new jest has your Excellency in hand?” asked the Rev21. Mather Byles, whose Presbyterian scruples98 had not kept him from the entertainment. “Trust me, sir, I have already laughed more than beseems my cloth at your Homeric confabulation with yonder ragamuffin General of the rebels. One other such fit of merriment, and I must throw off my clerical wig99 and band.”
“Not so, good Doctor Byles,” answered Sir William Howe; “if mirth were a crime, you had never gained your doctorate100 in divinity. As to this new foolery, I know no more about it than yourself; perhaps not so much. Honestly now, Doctor, have you not stirred up the sober brains of some of your countrymen to enact101 a scene in our masquerade?”
“Perhaps,” slyly remarked the granddaughter of Colonel Joliffe, whose high spirit had been stung by many taunts102 against New England — “perhaps we are to have a mask of allegorical figures. Victory, with trophies103 from Lexington and Bunker Hill — Plenty, with her overflowing104 horn, to typify the present abundance in this good town — and Glory, with a wreath for his Excellency’s brow.”
Sir William Howe smiled at words which he would have answered with one of his darkest frowns had they been uttered by lips that wore a beard. He was spared the necessity of a retort, by a singular interruption. A sound of music was heard without the house, as if proceeding105 from a full band of military instruments stationed in the street, playing not such a festal strain as was suited to the occasion, but a slow funeral march. The drums appeared to be muffled106, and the trumpets107 poured forth a wailing108 breath, which at once hushed the merriment of the auditors109, filling all with wonder, and some with apprehension110. The idea occurred to many that either the funeral procession of some great personage had halted in front of the Province House, or that a corpse111, in a velvet112-covered and gorgeously-decorated coffin113, was about to be borne from the portal. After listening a moment, Sir William Howe called, in a stern voice, to the leader of the musicians, who had hitherto enlivened the entertainment with gay and lightsome melodies. The man was drum-major to one of the British regiments114.
“Dighton,” demanded the general, “what means this foolery? Bid your band silence that dead march — or, by my word, they shall have sufficient cause for their lugubrious115 strains! Silence it, sirrah!”
“Please your honor,” answered the drum-major, whose rubicund116 visage had lost all its color, “the fault is none of mine. I and my band are all here together, and I question whether there be a man of us that could play that march without book. I never heard it but once before, and that was at the funeral of his late Majesty117, King George the Second.”
“Well, well!” said Sir William Howe, recovering his composure —“it is the prelude118 to some masquerading antic. Let it pass.”
A figure now presented itself, but among the many fantastic masks that were dispersed119 through the apartments none could tell precisely120 from whence it came. It was a man in an old-fashioned dress of black serge and having the aspect of a steward121 or principal domestic in the household of a nobleman or great English landholder. This figure advanced to the outer door of the mansion, and throwing both its leaves wide open, withdrew a little to one side and looked back towards the grand staircase as if expecting some person to descend53. At the same time the music in the street sounded a loud and doleful summons. The eyes of Sir William Howe and his guests being directed to the staircase, there appeared, on the uppermost landing-place that was discernible from the bottom, several personages descending towards the door. The foremost was a man of stern visage, wearing a steeple-crowned hat and a skull-cap beneath it; a dark cloak, and huge wrinkled boots that came half-way up his legs. Under his arm was a rolled-up banner, which seemed to be the banner of England, but strangely rent and torn; he had a sword in his right hand, and grasped a Bible in his left. The next figure was of milder aspect, yet full of dignity, wearing a broad ruff, over which descended122 a beard, a gown of wrought velvet, and a doublet and hose of black satin. He carried a roll of manuscript in his hand. Close behind these two came a young man of very striking countenance123 and demeanor124, with deep thought and contemplation on his brow, and perhaps a flash of enthusiiasm in his eye. His garb125, like that of his predecessors126, was of an antique fashion, and there was a stain of blood upon his ruff. In the same group with these were three or four others, all men of dignity and evident command, and bearing themselves like personages who were accustomed to the gaze of the multitude. It was the idea of the beholders that these figures went to join the mysterious funeral that had halted in front of the Province House; yet that supposition seemed to be contradicted by the air of triumph with which they waved their hands, as they crossed the threshold and vanished through the portal.
“In the devil’s name what is this?” muttered Sir William Howe to a gentleman beside him; “a procession of the regicide judges of King Charles the martyr127?”
“These,” said Colonel Joliffe, breaking silence almost for the first time that evening — “these, if I interpret them aright, are the Puritan governors — the rulers of the old original Democracy of Massachusetts. Endicott, with the banner from which he had torn the symbol of subjection, and Winthrop, and Sir Henry Vane, and Dudley, Haynes, Bellingham, and Leverett.”
“Why had that young man a stain of blood upon his ruff?” asked Miss Joliffe.
“Because, in after years,” answered her grandfather, “he laid down the wisest head in England upon the block for the principles of liberty.”
“Will not your Excellency order out the guard?” whispered Lord Percy, who, with other British officers, had now assembled round the General. “There may be a plot under this mummery.”
“Tush! we have nothing to fear,” carelessly replied Sir William Howe. “There can be no worse treason in the matter than a jest, and that somewhat of the dullest. Even were it a sharp and bitter one, our best policy would be to laugh it off. See — here come more of these gentry.”
Another group of characters had now partly descended the staircase. The first was a venerable and white-bearded patriarch, who cautiously felt his way downward with a staff. Treading hastily behind him, and stretching forth his gauntleted hand as if to grasp the old man’s shoulder, came a tall, soldier-like figure, equipped with a plumed128 cap of steel, a bright breastplate, and a long sword, which rattled129 against the stairs. Next was seen a stout130 man, dressed in rich and courtly attire, but not of courtly demeanor; his gait had the swinging motion of a seaman’s walk, and chancing to stumble on the staircase, he suddenly grew wrathful, and was heard to mutter an oath. He was followed by a noble-looking personage in a curled wig, such as are represented in the portraits of Queen Anne’s time and earlier; and the breast of his coat was decorated with an embroidered132 star. While advancing to the door, he bowed to the right hand and to the left, in a very gracious and insinuating133 style; but as he crossed the threshold, unlike the early Puritan governors, he seemed to wring134 his hands with sorrow.
“Prithee, play the part of a chorus, good Doctor Byles,” said Sir William Howe. “What worthies are these?”
“If it please your Excellency they lived somewhat before my day,” answered the doctor; “but doubtless our friend, the Colonel, has been hand and glove with them.”
“Their living faces I never looked upon,” said Colonel Joliffe, gravely; “although I have spoken face to face with many rulers of this land, and shall greet yet another with an old man’s blessing135 ere I die. But we talk of these figures. I take the venerable patriarch to be Bradstreet, the last of the Puritans, who was governor at ninety, or thereabouts. The next is Sir Edmund Andros, a tyrant136, as any New England school-boy will tell you; and therefore the people cast him down from his high seat into a dungeon137. Then comes Sir William Phipps, shepherd, cooper, sea-captain, and governor — may many of his countrymen rise as high from as low an origin! Lastly, you saw the gracious Earl of Bellamont, who ruled us under King William.”
“But what is the meaning of it all?” asked Lord Percy.
“Now, were I a rebel,” said Miss Joliffe, half aloud, “I might fancy that the ghosts of these ancient governors had been summoned to form the funeral procession of royal authority in New England.”
Several other figures were now seen at the turn of the staircase. The one in advance had a thoughtful, anxious, and somewhat crafty138 expression of face, and in spite of his loftiness of manner, which was evidently the result both of an ambitious spirit and of long continuance in high stations, he seemed not incapable139 of cringing140 to a greater than himself. A few steps behind came an officer in a scarlet141 and embroidered uniform, cut in a fashion old enough to have been worn by the Duke of Marlborough. His nose had a rubicund tinge142, which, together with the twinkle of his eye, might have marked him as a lover of the wine cup and good fellowship; notwithstanding which tokens he appeared ill at ease, and often glanced around him as if apprehensive143 of some secret mischief144. Next came a portly gentleman, wearing a coat of shaggy cloth, lined with silken velvet; he had sense, shrewdness, and humor in his face, and a folio volume under his arm; but his aspect was that of a man vexed145 and tormented146 beyond all patience, and harassed147 almost to death. He went hastily down, and was followed by a dignified person, dressed in a purple velvet suit with very rich embroidery148; his demeanor would have possessed much stateliness, only that a grievous fit of the gout compelled him to hobble from stair to stair, with contortions149 of face and body. When Dr. Byles beheld this figure on the staircase, he shivered as with an ague, but continued to watch him steadfastly150, until the gouty gentleman had reached the threshold, made a gesture of anguish151 and despair, and vanished into the outer gloom, whither the funeral music summoned him.
“Governor Belcher! — my old patron! — in his very shape and dress!” gasped152 Doctor Byles. “This is an awful mockery!”
“A tedious foolery, rather,” said Sir William Howe, with an air of indifference154. “But who were the three that preceded him?”
“Governor Dudley, a cunning politician — yet his craft once brought him to a prison,” replied Colonel Joliffe. “Governor Shute, formerly a Colonel under Marlborough, and whom the people frightened out of the province; and learned Governor Burnet, whom the legislature tormented into a mortal fever.”
“Methinks they were miserable155 men, these royal governors of Massachusetts,” observed Miss Joliffe. “Heavens, how dim the light grows!”
It was certainly a fact that the large lamp which illuminated156 the staircase now burned dim and duskily: so that several figures, which passed hastily down the stairs and went forth from the porch, appeared rather like shadows than persons of fleshly substance. Sir William Howe and his guests stood at the doors of the contiguous apartments, watching the progress of this singular pageant, with various emotions of anger, contempt, or half-acknowledged fear, but still with an anxious curiosity. The shapes which now seemed hastening to join the mysterious procession were recognized rather by striking peculiarities157 of dress, or broad characteristics of manner, than by any perceptible resemblance of features to their prototypes. Their faces, indeed, were invariably kept in deep shadow. But Doctor Byles, and other gentlemen who had long been familiar with the successive rulers of the province, were heard to whisper the names of Shirley, of Pownall, of Sir Francis Bernard, and of the well-remembered Hutchinson; thereby confessing that the actors, whoever they might be, in this spectral159 march of governors, had succeeded in putting on some distant portraiture160 of the real personages. As they vanished from the door, still did these shadows toss their arms into the gloom of night, with a dread161 expression of woe162. Following the mimic163 representative of Hutchinson came a military figure, holding before his face the cocked hat which he had taken from his powdered head; but his epaulettes and other insignia of rank were those of a general officer, and something in his mien164 reminded the beholders of one who had recently been master of the Province House, and chief of all the land.
“The shape of Gage, as true as in a looking-glass,” exclaimed Lord Percy, turning pale.
“No, surely,” cried Miss Joliffe, laughing hysterically165; “it could not be Gage, or Sir William would have greeted his old comrade in arms! Perhaps he will not suffer the next to pass unchallenged.”
“Of that be assured, young lady,” answered Sir William Howe, fixing his eyes, with a very marked expression, upon the immovable visage of her grandfather. “I have long enough delayed to pay the ceremonies of a host to these departing guests. The next that takes his leave shall receive due courtesy.”
A wild and dreary166 burst of music came through the open door. It seemed as if the procession, which had been gradually filling up its ranks, were now about to move, and that this loud peal94 of the wailing trumpets, and roll of the muffled drums, were a call to some loiterer to make haste. Many eyes, by an irresistible167 impulse, were turned upon Sir William Howe, as if it were he whom the dreary music summoned to the funeral or departed power.
“See! — here comes the last!” whispered Miss Joliffe, pointing her tremulous finger to the staircase.
A figure had come into view as if descending the stairs; although so dusky was the region whence it emerged, some of the spectators fancied that they had seen this human shape suddenly moulding itself amid the gloom. Downward the figure came, with a stately and martial168 tread, and reaching the lowest stair was observed to be a tall man, booted and wrapped in a military cloak, which was drawn169 up around the face so as to meet the flapped brim of a laced hat. The features, therefore, were completely hidden. But the British officers deemed that they had seen that military cloak before, and even recognized the frayed170 embroidery on the collar, as well as the gilded scabbard of a sword which protruded171 from the folds of the cloak, and glittered in a vivid gleam of light. Apart from these trifling172 particulars, there were characteristics of gait and bearing which impelled173 the wondering guests to glance from the shrouded174 figure to Sir William Howe, as if to satisfy themselves that their host had not suddenly vanished from the midst of them.
With a dark flush of wrath131 upon his brow they saw the General draw his sword and advance to meet the figure in the cloak before the latter had stepped one pace upon the floor.
“Villain, unmuffle yourself!” cried he. “You pass no farther!”
The figure, without blenching175 a hair’s breadth from the sword which was pointed176 at his breast, made a solemn pause and lowered the cape177 of the cloak from about his face, yet not sufficiently178 for the spectators to catch a glimpse of it. But Sir William Howe had evidently seen enough. The sternness of his countenance gave place to a look of wild amazement179, if not horror, while he recoiled180 several steps from the figure and let fall his sword upon the floor. The martial shape again drew the cloak about his, features and passed on; but reaching the threshold, with his back towards the spectators, he was seen to stamp his foot and shake his clinched181 hands in the air. It was afterwards affirmed that Sir William Howe had repeated that selfsame gesture of rage and sorrow, when, for the last time, and as the last royal governor, he passed through the portal of the Province House.
“Hark! — the procession moves,” said Miss Joliffe.
The music was dying away along the street, and its dismal182 strains were mingled with the knell183 of midnight from the steeple of the Old South, and with the roar of artillery184, which announced that the beleaguering185 army of Washington had intrenched itself upon a nearer height than before. As the deep boom of the cannon186 smote187 upon his ear, Colonel Joliffe raised himself to the full height of his aged188 form, and smiled sternly on the British General.
“Would your Excellency inquire further into the mystery of the pageant?” said he.
“Take care of your gray head!” cried Sir William Howe, fiercely, though with a quivering lip. “It has stood too long on a traitor’s shoulders!”
“You must make haste to chop it off, then,” calmly replied the Colonel; “for a few hours longer, and not all the power of Sir William Howe, nor of his master, shall cause one of these gray hairs to fall. The empire of Britain in this ancient province is at its last gasp153 to-night; — almost while I speak it is a dead corpse; — and methinks the shadows of the old governors are fit mourners at its funeral!”
With these words Colonel Joliffe threw on his cloak, and drawing his granddaughter’s arm within his own, retired189 from the last festival that a British ruler ever held in the old province of Massachusetts Bay. It was supposed that the Colonel and the young lady possessed some secret intelligence in regard to the mysterious pageant of that night. However this might be, such knowledge has never become general. The actors in the scene have vanished into deeper obscurity than even that wild Indian band who scattered190 the cargoes191 of the tea ships on the waves, and gained a place in history, yet left no names. But superstition192, among other legends of this mansion, repeats the wondrous193 tale, that on the anniversary night of Britain’s discomfiture194 the ghosts of the ancient governors of Massachusetts still glide195 through the portal of the Province House. And, last of all, comes a figure shrouded in a military cloak, tossing his clinched hands into the air, and stamping his iron-shod boots upon the broad freestone steps, with a semblance158 of feverish196 despair, but without the sound of a foot-tramp.
When the truth-telling accents of the elderly gentleman were hushed, I drew a long breath and looked round the room, striving, with the best energy of my imagination, to throw a tinge of romance and historic grandeur over the realities of the scene. But my nostrils197 snuffed up a scent43 of cigar smoke, clouds of which the narrator had emitted by way of visible emblem198, I suppose, of the nebulous obscurity of his tale. Moreover, my gorgeous fantasies were wofully disturbed by the rattling199 of the spoon in a tumbler of whiskey punch, which Mr. Thomas Waite was mingling200 for a customer. Nor did it add to the picturesque201 appearance of the panelled walls that the slate202 of the Brookline stage was suspended against them, instead of the armorial escutcheon of some far-descended governor. A stage-driver sat at one of the windows, reading a penny paper of the day — the Boston Times — and presenting a figure which could nowise be brought into any picture of “Times in Boston” seventy or a hundred years ago. On the window seat lay a bundle, neatly203 done up in brown paper, the direction of which I had the idle curiosity to read. “MISS SUSAN HUGGINS, at the PROVINCE HOUSE.” A pretty chambermaid, no doubt. In truth, it is desperately204 hard work, when we attempt to throw the spell of hoar antiquity205 over localities with which the living world, and the day that is passing over us, have aught to do. Yet, as I glanced at the stately staircase down which the procession of the old governors had descended, and as I emerged through the venerable portal whence their figures had preceded me, it gladdened me to be conscious of a thrill of awe206. Then, diving through the narrow archway, a few strides transported me into the densest207 throng17 of Washington Street.
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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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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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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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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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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ascends
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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20
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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21
rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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22
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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23
scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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24
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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25
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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26
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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27
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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28
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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29
quaffed
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| v.痛饮( quaff的过去式和过去分词 )；畅饮；大口大口将…喝干；一饮而尽 | |
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30
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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31
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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32
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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33
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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34
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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35
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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36
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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37
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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38
subdivided
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| 再分，细分( subdivide的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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40
lodger
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| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
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41
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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42
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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43
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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44
ward
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|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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45
dingier
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| adj.暗淡的，乏味的( dingy的比较级 )；肮脏的 | |
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46
quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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47
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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48
gage
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| n.标准尺寸，规格；量规，量表 [=gauge] | |
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49
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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50
disastrous
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|
| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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51
besieging
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
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52
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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53
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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54
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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55
ponderous
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|
| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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56
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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57
contemplated
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|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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58
gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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59
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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60
requiting
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| v.报答( requite的现在分词 )；酬谢；回报；报复 | |
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61
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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62
sociable
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|
| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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63
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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64
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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65
lapse
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|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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66
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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67
scrupled
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| v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
conducive
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| adj.有益的，有助的 | |
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69
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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70
beleaguered
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|
| adj.受到围困[围攻]的；包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词)；困扰；骚扰 | |
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71
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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72
ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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73
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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74
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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75
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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76
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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77
provocative
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|
| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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78
pilfered
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|
| v.偷窃（小东西），小偷( pilfer的过去式和过去分词 )；偷窃（一般指小偷小摸） | |
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79
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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80
tattered
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|
| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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81
worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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82
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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83
brandishing
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|
| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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84
rusty
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|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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85
longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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86
purported
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|
| adj.传说的，谣传的v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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88
formerly
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|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
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89
thither
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|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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90
puritanical
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|
| adj.极端拘谨的；道德严格的 | |
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91
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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92
ominous
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|
| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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93
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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94
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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95
pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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97
pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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98
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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99
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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100
doctorate
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| n.(大学授予的)博士学位 | |
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101
enact
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| vt.制定(法律)；上演，扮演 | |
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102
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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103
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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104
overflowing
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|
| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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105
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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106
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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107
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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108
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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109
auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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110
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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111
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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112
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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113
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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114
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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115
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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116
rubicund
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| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
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117
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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118
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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119
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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120
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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121
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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122
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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123
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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124
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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125
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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126
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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127
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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128
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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129
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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131
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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132
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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133
insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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134
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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135
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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136
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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137
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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138
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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139
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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140
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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141
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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142
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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143
apprehensive
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|
| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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144
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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145
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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146
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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147
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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148
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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149
contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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150
steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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151
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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152
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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153
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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154
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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155
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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156
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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157
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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158
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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159
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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160
portraiture
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| n.肖像画法 | |
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161
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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162
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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163
mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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164
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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165
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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166
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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167
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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168
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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169
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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170
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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172
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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173
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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175
blenching
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| v.（因惊吓而）退缩，惊悸( blench的现在分词 )；（使）变白，（使）变苍白 | |
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176
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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177
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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178
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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179
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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180
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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181
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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182
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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183
knell
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| n.丧钟声；v.敲丧钟 | |
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184
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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185
beleaguering
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| v.围攻( beleaguer的现在分词 )；困扰；骚扰 | |
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186
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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187
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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188
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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189
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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190
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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191
cargoes
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| n.（船或飞机装载的）货物( cargo的名词复数 )；大量，重负 | |
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192
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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193
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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194
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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195
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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196
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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197
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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198
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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199
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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200
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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201
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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202
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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203
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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204
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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205
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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206
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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207
densest
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| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
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