From its earliest mention till now the home of shepherds and of hardy12 cultivators of its rocky hillsides, it has been noted13 for the free spirit and turbulence14 of its inhabitants. The primal15 character of a place seems to have the power of perpetuating16 itself in all changes. Bethlehem never seems to have been afflicted17 with servility. During the period of David's hiding in the Cave Adullam the warlike Philistines18 occupied it, but David was a fit representative of the pluck and steadfastness20 of its people. Since the Christian21 era it has been a Christian town, as it is to-day, and the few Moslems who have settled there, from time to time, have found it more prudent23 to withdraw than to brave its hostility24. Its women incline to be handsome, and have rather European than Oriental features, and they enjoy the reputation of unusual virtue25; the men are industrious26, and seem to have more selfrespect than the Syrians generally.
Bethlehem is to all the world one of the sweetest of words. A tender and romantic interest is thrown about it as the burial-place of Rachel, as the scene of Ruth's primitive27 story, and of David's boyhood and kingly consecration28; so that no other place in Jud鎍, by its associations, was so fit to be the gate through which the Divine Child should come into the world. And the traveller to-day can visit it, with, perhaps, less shock to his feelings of reverence29, certainly with a purer and simpler enjoyment30, than any other place in Holy Land. He finds its ruggedness31 and desolateness32 picturesque34, in the light of old song and story, and even the puerile35 inventions of monkish36 credulity do not affect him as elsewhere.
From Jerusalem we reach Bethlehem by following a curving ridge,—a lovely upland ride, on account of the extensive prospect38 and the breeze, and because it is always a relief to get out of the city. The country is, however, as stony as the worst portions of New England,—the mountain sheep-pastures; thick, double stone-walls enclosing small fields do not begin to exhaust the stones. On both sides of the ridge are bare, unproductive hills, but the sides of the valleys are terraced, and covered with a good growth of olive-trees. These hollows were no doubt once very fruitful by assiduous cultivation39, in spite of the stones. Bethlehem, as we saw it across a deep ravine, was like a castle on a hill; there is nowhere level ground enough for a table to stand, off the ridges40, and we looked in vain for the "plains of Bethlehem" about which we had tried, trustfully, to sing in youth.
Within a mile of Bethlehem gate we came to the tomb of Rachel, standing41 close by the highway. "And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave: that is the pillar of Rachel's grave unto this day." This is the testimony42 of the author of Genesis, who had not seen the pillar which remained to his day, but repeated the tradition of the sons of Jacob. What remained of this pillar, after the absence of the Israelites for some five centuries from Bethlehem, is uncertain; but it may be supposed that some spot near Bethlehem was identified as the tomb of Rachel upon their return, and that the present site is the one then selected. It is possible, of course, that the tradition of the pagan Canaanites may have preserved the recollection of the precise spot. At any rate, Christians43 seem to agree that this is one of the few ancient sites in Jud鎍 which are authentic44, and the Moslems pay it equal veneration45. The square, unpretentious building erected46 over it is of modern construction, and the pilgrim has to content himself with looking at a sort of Moslem22 tomb inside, and reflecting, if he can, upon the pathetic story of the death of the mother of Joseph.
There is, alas47! everywhere in Jud鎍 something to drive away sentiment as well as pious48 feeling. The tomb of Rachel is now surrounded by a Moslem cemetery49, and as we happened to be there on Thursday we found ourselves in the midst of a great gathering50 of women, who had come there, according to their weekly custom, to weep and to wail51. .
You would not see in farthest Nubia a more barbarous assemblage, and not so fierce an one. In the presence of these wild mourners the term "gentler sex" has a ludicrous sound. Yet we ought not to forget that we were intruders upon their periodic grief, attracted to their religious demonstration52 merely by curiosity, and fairly entitled to nothing but scowls53 and signs of aversion. I am sure that we should give bold Moslem intruders upon our hours of sorrow at home no better reception. The women were in the usual Syrian costume; their loose gowns gaped54 open at the bosom55, and they were without veils, and made no pretence56 of drawing a shawl before their faces; all wore necklaces of coins, and many of them had circlets of coins on the head, with strips depending from them, also stiff with silver pieces. A woman's worth was thus easily to be reckoned, for her entire fortune was on her head. A pretty face was here and there to be seen, but most of them were flaringly ugly, and—to liken them to what they most resembled—physically and mentally the type of the North American squaws. They were accompanied by all their children, and the little brats57 were tumbling about the tombs, and learning the language of woe58.
Among the hundreds of women present, the expression of grief took two forms,—one active, the other more resigned. A group seated itself about a tomb, and the members swayed their bodies to and fro, howled at the top of their voices, and pretended to weep. I had the infidel curiosity to go from group to group in search of a tear, but I did not see one. Occasionally some interruption, like the arrival of a new mourner, would cause the swaying and howling to cease for a moment, or it would now and then be temporarily left to the woman at the head of the grave, but presently all would fall to again and abandon themselves to the luxury of agony. It was perhaps unreasonable59 to expect tears from creatures so withered60 as most of these were; but they worked themselves into a frenzy61 of excitement, they rolled up their blue checked cotton handkerchiefs, drew them across their eyes, and then wrung62 them out with gestures of despair. It was the dryest grief I ever saw.
The more active mourners formed a ring in a clear spot. Some thirty women standing with their faces toward the centre, their hands on each other's shoulders, circled round with unrhythmic steps, crying and singing, and occasionally jumping up and down with all their energy, like the dancers of Horace, "striking the ground with equal feet," coming down upon the earth with a heavy thud, at the same time slapping their faces with their hands; then circling around again with faster steps, and shriller cries, and more prolonged ululations, and anon pausing to jump and beat the ground with a violence sufficient to shatter their frames. The loose flowing robes, the clinking of the silver ornaments64, the wild gleam of their eyes, the Bacchantic madness of their saltations, the shrill63 shrieking66 and wailing67, conspired68 to give their demonstration an indescribable barbarity. This scene has recurred69 every Thursday for, I suppose, hundreds of years, within a mile of the birthplace of Jesus.
Bethlehem at a little distance presents an appearance that its interior does not maintain; but it is so much better than most Syrian villages of its size (it has a population of about three thousand), and is so much cleaner than Jerusalem, that we are content with its ancient though commonplace aspect. But the atmosphere of the town is thoroughly70 commercial, or perhaps I should say industrial; you do not find in it that rural and reposeful71 air which you associate with the birthplace of our Lord. The people are sharp, to a woman, and have a keen eye for the purse of the stranger. Every other house is a shop for the manufacture or sale of some of the Bethlehem specialties,—carvings in olive-wood and ivory and mother-of-pearl, crosses and crucifixes, and models of the Holy Sepulchre, and every sort of sacred trinket, and beads73 in endless variety; a little is done also in silver-work, especially in rings. One may chance upon a Mecca ring there; but the ring peculiar74 to Bethlehem is a silver wedding-ring; it is a broad and singular band of silver with pendants, and is worn upon the thumb. As soon as we come into the town, we are beset75 with sellers of various wares76, and we never escape them except when we are in the convent.
The Latin convent opens its doors to tourists; it is a hospitable77 house, and the monks78 are very civil; they let us sit in a salle-?-manger, while waiting for dinner, that was as damp and chill as a dungeon79, and they gave us a well-intended but uneatable meal, and the most peculiar wine, all at a good price. The wine, white and red, was made by the monks, they said with some pride; we tried both kinds, and I can recommend it to the American Temperance union: if it can be introduced to the public, the public will embrace total abstinence with enthusiasm.
While we were waiting for the proper hour to visit the crypt of the Nativity, we went out upon the esplanade before the convent, and looked down into the terraced ravines which are endeared to us by so many associations. Somewhere down there is the patch of ground that the mighty80 man of wealth, Boaz, owned, in which sweet Ruth went gleaning81 in the barley82-harvest. What a picture of a primitive time it is,—the noonday meal of Boaz and his handmaidens, Ruth invited to join them, and dip her morsel83 in the vinegar with the rest, and the hospitable Boaz handing her parched84 corn. We can understand why Ruth had good gleaning over this stony ground, after the rakes of the handmaidens. We know that her dress did not differ from that worn by Oriental women now; for her "veil," which Boaz filled with six measures of barley, was the head-shawl still almost universally worn,—though not by the Bethlehemite women. Their head-dress is peculiar; there seems to be on top of the head a square frame, and over this is thrown and folded a piece of white doth. The women are thus in a manner crowned, and the dress is as becoming as the somewhat similar head-covering of the Roman peasants. We learn also in the story of Ruth that the mother-in-law in her day was as wise in the ways of men as she is now. "Sit still, my daughter," she counselled her after she returned with the veil full of barley, "until thou know how the matter will fall, for the man will not be in rest until he have finished the thing this day."
Down there, somewhere in that wilderness of ravines, David, the great-grandson of Ruth, kept his father's sheep before he went to the combat with Goliath. It was there—the grotto85 is shown a little more than a mile from this convent—that the shepherds watched their flocks by night when the angel appeared and announced the birth of the Messiah, the Son of David. We have here within the grasp of the eye almost the beginning and the end of the old dispensation, from the burial of Rachel to the birth of our Lord, from the passing of the wandering sheykh, Jacob, with his family, to the end put to the exclusive pretensions86 of his descendants by the coming of a Saviour87 to all the world.
The cave called the Grotto of the Nativity has great antiquity88. The hand-book says it had this repute as early as the second century. In the year 327 the mother of Constantine built a church over it, and this basilica still stands, and is the oldest specimen89 of Christian architecture in existence, except perhaps the lower church of St. Clement90 at Rome. It is the oldest basilica above ground retaining its perfect ancient form. The main part of the church consists of a nave91 and four aisles92, separated by four rows of Corinthian marble columns, tradition says, taken from the temple of Solomon. The walls were once adorned94 with mosaics95, but only fragments of them remain; the roof is decayed and leaky, the pavement is broken. This part of the church is wholly neglected, because it belongs to the several sects96 in common, and is merely the arena98 for an occasional fight. The choir99 is separated from the nave by a wall, and is divided into two chapels, one of the Greeks, the other of the Armenians. The Grotto of the Nativity is underneath100 these chapels, and each sect97 has a separate staircase of descent to it. The Latin chapel10 is on the north side of this choir, and it also has a stairway to the subterranean101 apartments.
Making an effort to believe that the stable of the inn in which Christ was born was a small subterranean cave cut in the solid rock, we descended102 a winding103 flight of stairs from the Latin chapel, with a monk37 for our guide, and entered a labyrinth104 from which we did not emerge until we reached the place of the nativity, and ascended105 into the Greek chapel above it. We walked between glistening106 walls of rock, illuminated107 by oil-lamps here and there, and in our exploration of the gloomy passages and chambers108, encountered shrines110, pictures, and tombs of the sainted. We saw, or were told that we saw, the spot to which St. Joseph retired111 at the moment of the nativity, and also the place where the twenty thousand children who were murdered by the order of Herod—a ghastly subject so well improved by the painters of the Renaissance—are buried. But there was one chamber109, or rather vault112, that we entered with genuine emotion. This was the cell of Jerome, hermit113 and scholar, whose writings have gained him the title of Father of the Church.
At the close of the fourth century Bethlehem was chiefly famous as the retreat of this holy student, and the fame of his learning and sanctity drew to it from distant lands many faithful women, who renounced114 the world and its pleasures, and were content to sit at his feet and learn the way of life. Among those who resigned, and, for his sake and the cross, despised, the allurements115 and honors of the Roman world, was the devout116 Paula, a Roman matron who traced her origin from Agamemnon, and numbered the Scipios and Gracchi among her ancestors, while her husband, Joxotius, deduced a no less royal lineage from 苙eas. Her wealth was sufficient to support the dignity of such a descent; among her possessions, an item in her rent-roll, was the city of Nicopolis, which Augustus built as a monument of the victory of Actium. By the advice and in the company of Jerome, her spiritual guide, she abandoned Rome and all her vast estates, and even her infant son, and retired to the holy village of Bethlehem. The great Jerome, who wrote her biography, and transmitted the story of her virtues117 to the most distant ages, bestowed118 upon her the singular title of the Mother-in-law of God! She was buried here, and we look upon her tomb with scarcely less interest than that of Jerome himself, who also rests in this thrice holy ground. At the beginning of the fifth century, when the Goths sacked Rome, a crowd of the noble and the rich, escaping with nothing saved from the wreck119 but life and honor, attracted also by the reputation of Jerome, appeared as beggars in the streets of this humble120 village. No doubt they thronged121 to the cell of the venerable father.
There is, I suppose, no doubt that this is the study in which he composed many of his more important treatises122. It is a vaulted123 chamber, about twenty feet square by nine feet high. There is in Venice a picture of the study of Jerome, painted by Carpaccio, which represents a delightful124 apartment; the saint is seen in his study, in a rich n間lig? robe; at the side of his desk are musical instruments, music-stands, and sheets of music, as if he were accustomed to give soir閑s; on the chimney-piece are Greek vases and other objects of virtu, and in the middle of the room is a poodle-dog of the most worldly and useless of the canine125 breed. The artist should have seen the real study of the hermit,—a grim, unornamented vault, in which he passed his days in mortifications of the body, hearing always ringing in his ears, in his disordered mental and physical condition, the last trump126 of judgment127.
We passed, groping our way along in this religious cellar, through a winding, narrow passage in the rock, some twenty-five feet long, and came into the place of places, the very Chapel of the Nativity. In this low vault, thirty-eight feet long and eleven feet wide, hewn in the rock, is an altar at one end. Before this altar—and we can see everything with distinctness, for sixteen silver lamps are burning about it—there is a marble slab128 in the pavement into which is let a silver star, with this sentence round it: Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est. The guardian130 of this sacred spot was a Turkish soldier, who stood there with his gun and fixed131 bayonet, an attitude which experience has taught him is necessary to keep the peace among the Christians who meet here. The altar is without furniture, and is draped by each sect which uses it in turn. Near by is the chapel of the "manger," but the manger in which Christ was laid is in the church of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome.
There is in Bethlehem another ancient cave which is almost as famous as that of the Nativity; it is called the Milk Grotto, and during all ages of the Church a most marvellous virtue has attached to it; fragments of the stone have been, and still continue to be, broken off and sent into all Christian countries; women also make pilgrimages to it in faith. The grotto is on the edge of the town overlooking the eastern ravines, and is arranged as a show-place. In our walk thither132 a stately Bedawee, as by accident, fell into our company, and acted as our cicerone. He was desirous that we should know that he also was a man of the world and of travel, and rated at its proper value this little corner of the earth. He had served in the French army and taken part in many battles, and had been in Paris and seen the tomb of the great emperor,—ah, there was a man! As to this grotto, they say that the Virgin129 used to send to it for milk,—many think so. As for him, he was a soldier, and did not much give his mind to such things.
This grotto is an excavation133 in the chalky rock, and might be a very good place to store milk, but for the popular prejudice in cities against chalk and water. We entered it through the court of a private house, and the damsel who admitted us also assured us that the Virgin procured134 milk from it. The tradition is that the Virgin and Child were concealed135 here for a time before the flight into Egypt; and ever since then its stone has the miraculous136 power of increasing the flow of the maternal137 breast. The early fathers encouraged this and the like superstitions139 in the docile140 minds of their fair converts, and themselves testified to the efficacy of this remarkable141 stone. These superstitions belong rather to the Orient than to any form of religion. There is a famous spring at Assiout in Egypt which was for centuries much resorted to by ladies who desired offspring; and the Arabs on the Upper Nile to-day, who wish for an heir male, resort to a plant which grows in the remote desert, rare and difficult to find, the leaves of which are "good for boys." This grotto scarcely repays the visit, except for the view one obtains of the wild country below it. When we bade good by to the courtly Arab, we had too much delicacy142 to offer money to such a gentleman and a soldier of the empire; a delicacy not shared by him, however, for he let no false modesty143 hinder a request for a little backsheesh for tobacco.
On our return, and at some distance from the gate, we diverged144 into a lane, and sought, in a rocky field, the traditional well whose waters David longed for when he was in the Cave of Adullam,—"O that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate!" Howbeit, when the three mighty men had broken through the Philistine19 guards and procured him the water, David would not drink that which was brought at such a sacrifice. Two very comely145 Bethlehem girls hastened at our approach to draw water from the well and gave us to drink, with all the freedom of Oriental hospitality, in which there is always an expectation of backsheesh. The water is at any rate very good, and there is no reason why these pretty girls should not turn an honest penny upon the strength of David's thirst, whether this be the well whose water he desired or not. We were only too thankful that no miraculous property is attributed to its waters. As we returned, we had the evening light upon the gray walls and towers of the city, and were able to invest it with something of its historical dignity.
The next excursion that we made from Jerusalem was so different from the one to Bethlehem, that by way of contrast I put them together. It was to the convent of Mar11 Saba, which lies in the wilderness towards the Dead Sea, about two hours and a half from the city.
In those good old days, when piety146 was measured by frugality147 in the use of the bath, when the holy fathers praised most those hermits148 who washed least, when it might perhaps be the boast of more than one virgin, devoted149 to the ascetic150 life, that she had lived fifty-eight years during which water had touched neither her hands, her face, her feet, nor any part of her body, Palestine was, after Egypt, the favorite resort of the fanatical, the unfortunate, and the lazy, who, gathered into communities, or dwelling151 in solitary152 caves, offered to the barbarian153 world a spectacle of superstition138 and abasement154 under the name of Christianity. But of the swarm155 of hermits and monks who begged in the cities and burrowed156 in the caves of the Holy Land in the fifth century, no one may perhaps be spoken of with more respect than St. Sabas, who, besides a reputation for sanctity, has left that of manliness157 and a virile158 ability, which his self-mortifications did not extirpate159. And of all the monasteries160 of that period, that of Mar Saba is the only one in Jud鎍 which has preserved almost unbroken the type of that time. St. Sabas was a Cappadocian who came to Palestine in search of a permanent retreat, savage161 enough to satisfy his austere162 soul. He found it in a cave in one of the wildest gorges163 in this most desolate33 of lands, a ravine which opens into the mountains from the brook165 Kidron. The fame of his zeal166 and piety attracted thousands to his neighborhood, so that at one time there were almost as many hermits roosting about in the rocks near him as there are inhabitants in the city of Jerusalem now. He was once enabled to lead an army of monks to that city and chastise167 the Monophysite heretics. His cave in the steep side of a rocky precipice168 became the nucleus169 of his convent, which grew around it and attached itself to the face of the rock as best it could. For the convent of Mar Saba is not a building, nor a collection of buildings, so much as it is a group of nests attached to the side of a precipice.
It was a bright Saturday afternoon that a young divinity student and I, taking the volatile170 Demetrius with us for interpreter, rode out of St. Stephen's gate, into Jehoshaphat, past the gray field of Jewish graves, down through Tophet and the wild ravine of the Kidron.
It is unpleasant to interrupt the prosperous start of a pilgrimage by a trifling171 incident, but at our first descent and the slightest tension on the bridle172-reins173 of my horse, they parted from the bit. This accident, which might be serious in other lands, is of the sort that is anticipated here, and I may say assured, by the forethought of the owners of saddle-horses. Upon dismounting with as much haste as dignity, I discovered that the reins had been fastened to the bit by a single rotten string of cotton. Luckily the horse I rode was not an animal to take advantage of the weakness of his toggery. He was a Syrian horse, a light sorrel, and had no one of the good points of a horse except the name and general shape. His walk was slow and reluctant, his trot174 a high and non-progressive jolt175, his gallop176 a large up-and-down agitation177. To his bridle of strings178 and shreds180 no martingale was attached; no horse in Syria is subject to that restraint. When I pull the bit he sticks up his nose; when I switch him he kicks. When I hold him in, he won't go; when I let him loose, he goes on his nose. I dismount and look at him with curiosity; I wonder all the journey what his forte181 is, but I never discover. I conclude that he is like the emperor Honorius, whom Gibbon stigmatizes182 as "without passions, and consequently without talents."
Yet he was not so bad as the roads, and perhaps no horse would do much better on these stony and broken foot-paths. This horse is not a model (for anything but a clothes-horse), but from my observation I think that great injustice183 has been done to Syrian horses by travellers, who have only themselves to blame for accidents which bring the horses into disrepute. Travellers are thrown from these steeds; it is a daily occurrence; we heard continually that somebody had a fall from his horse on his way to the Jordan, or to Mar Saba, or to Nablous, and was laid up, and it was always in consequence of a vicious brute184. The fact is that excellent ministers of the gospel and doctors of divinity and students of the same, who have never in their lives been on the back of a horse in any other land, seem to think when they come here that the holy air of Palestine will transform them into accomplished185 horsemen; or perhaps they are emulous of Elisha, that they may go to heaven by means of a fiery186 steed.
For a while we had the company of the singing brook Kidron, flowing clear over the stones; then we left the ravine and wound over rocky steeps, which afforded us fine views of broken hills and interlacing ridges, and when we again reached the valley the brook had disappeared in the thirsty ground. The road is strewn, not paved, with stones, and in many places hardly practicable for horses. Occasionally we encountered flocks of goats and of long-wooled sheep feeding on the scant187 grass of the hills, and tended by boys in the coarse brown and striped garments of the country, which give a state-prison aspect to most of the inhabitants,—but there was no other life, and no trees offer relief to the hard landscape. But the way was now and then bright with flowers, thickly carpeted with scarlet188 anemones189, the Star of Bethlehem, and tiny dandelions. Two hours from the city we passed several camps of Bedaween, their brown low camel's-hair tents pitched among the rocks and scarcely distinguishable in the sombre landscape. About the tents were grouped camels and donkeys, and from them issued and pursued us begging boys and girls. A lazy Bedawee appeared here and there with a long gun, and we could imagine that this gloomy region might be unsafe after nightfall; but no danger ever seems possible in such bright sunshine and under a sky so blue and friendly.
When a half-hour from the convent, we turned to the right from the road to the Dead Sea, and ascending190 a steep hill found ourselves riding along the edge of a deep winding gorge164; a brook flows at the bottom, and its sides are sheer precipices191 of rock, generally parallel, but occasionally widening into amphitheatres of the most fantastic rocky formation. It is on one side of this narrow ravine that the convent is built, partly excavated192 in the rock, partly resting on jutting193 ledges195, and partly hung out in the form of balconies,—buildings clinging to the steep side like a comb of wild bees or wasps196 to a rock.
Our first note of approach to it was the sight of a square tower and of the roofs of buildings below us. Descending197 from the road by several short turns, and finally by two steep paved inclines, we came to a lofty wall in which is a small iron door. As we could go no farther without aid from within, Demetrius shouted, and soon we had a response from a slit198 in the wall fifty feet above us to the left. We could see no one, but the voice demanded who we were, and whether we had a pass. Above the slit from which the angelic voice proceeded a stone projected, and in this was an opening for letting down or drawing up articles. This habit of caution in regard to who or what shall come into the convent is of course a relic199 of the gone ages of tumult200, but it is still necessary as a safeguard against the wandering Bedaween, who would no doubt find means to plunder201 the convent of its great wealth of gold, silver, and jewels if they were not at all times rigorously excluded. The convent with its walls and towers is still a fortress202 strong enough to resist any irregular attempts of the wandering tribes. It is also necessary to strictly203 guard the convent against women, who in these days of speculation204, if not scientific curiosity, often knock impatiently and angrily at its gates, and who, if admitted, would in one gay and chatty hour destroy the spell of holy seclusion205 which has been unbroken for one thousand three hundred and ninety-two years. I know that sometimes it seems an unjust ordination206 of Providence207 that a woman cannot be a man, but I cannot join those who upbraid208 the monks of Mar Saba for inhospitality because they refuse to admit women under any circumstances into the precincts of the convent; if I do not sympathize with the brothers, I can understand their adhesion to the last shred179 of man's independence, which is only to be maintained by absolute exclusion209 of the other sex. It is not necessary to revive the defamation210 of the early Christian ages, that the devil appeared oftener to the hermit in the form of a beautiful woman than in any other; but we may not regret that there is still one spot on the face of the earth, if it is no bigger than the sod upon which Noah's pioneer dove alighted, in which weak men may be safe from the temptation, the criticism, and the curiosity of the superior being. There is an airy tower on the rocks outside the walls which women may occupy if they cannot restrain their desire to lodge211 in this neighborhood, or if night overtakes them here on their way from the Dead Sea; there Madame Pfeiffer, Miss Martineau, and other famous travellers of their sex have found refuge, and I am sorry to say abused their proximity212 to this retreat of shuddering213 man by estimating the piety of its inmates214 according to their hospitality to women. So far as I can learn, this convent of Mar Saba is now the only retreat left on this broad earth for Man; and it seems to me only reasonable that it should be respected by his generous and gentle, though inquisitive215 foe216.
After further parley217 with Demetrius and a considerable interval218, we heard a bell ring, and in a few moments the iron door opened, and we entered, stepping our horses carefully over the stone threshold, and showing our pass from the Jerusalem Patriarch to an attendant, and came into a sort of stable hewn in the rock. Here we abandoned our horses, and were taken in charge by a monk whom the bell had summoned from below. He conducted us down several long flights of zigzag219 stairs in the rock, amid hanging buildings and cells, until we came to what appears to be a broad ledge194 in the precipice, and found ourselves in the central part of this singular hive, that is, in a small court, with cells and rocks on one side and the convent church, which overhangs the precipice, on the other. Beside the church and also at another side of the court are buildings in which pilgrims are lodged220, and in the centre of the court is the tomb of St. Sabas himself. Here our passports were examined, and we were assigned a cheerful and airy room looking upon the court and tomb.
One of the brothers soon brought us coffee, and the promptness of this hospitality augured221 well for the remainder of our fare; relying upon the reputation of the convent for good cheer, we had brought nothing with us, not so much as a biscuit. Judge of our disgust, then, at hearing the following dialogue between Demetrius and the Greek monk.
"What time can the gentlemen dine?"
"Any time they like."
"What have you for dinner?"
"Nothing."
"You can give us no dinner?"
"To be sure not. It is fast."
"But we have n't a morsel, we shall starve."
"Perhaps I can find a little bread."
"Nothing else?"
"We have very good raisins222."
"Well," we interposed, "kill us a chicken, give us a few oysters223, stewed224 or broiled225, we are not particular." This levity226, which was born of desperation, for the jolting227 ride from Jerusalem had indisposed us to keep a fast, especially a fast established by a church the orthodoxy of whose creed228 we had strong reasons to doubt, did not affect the monk. He replied, "Chicken! it is impossible." We shrunk our requisition to eggs.
"If I can find an egg, I will see." And the brother departed, with carte blanche from us to squeeze his entire establishment.
Alas, fasting is not in Mar Saba what it is in New England, where an appointed fast-day is hailed as an opportunity to forego lunch in order to have an extraordinary appetite for a better dinner than usual!
The tomb of St. Sabas, the central worship of this hive, is a little plastered hut in the middle of the court; the interior is decorated with pictures in the Byzantine style, and a lamp is always burning there. As we stood at the tomb we heard voices chanting, and, turning towards the rock, we saw a door from which the sound came. Pushing it open, we were admitted into a large chapel, excavated in the rock. The service of vespers was in progress, and a band of Russian pilgrims were chanting in rich bass229 voices, producing more melody than I had ever heard in a Greek church. The excavation extends some distance into the hill; we were shown the cells of St. John of Damascus and other hermits, and at the end a charnel-house piled full of the bones of men. In the dim light their skulls230 grinned at us in a horrid232 familiarity; in that ghastly jocularity which a skull231 always puts on, with a kind of mocking commentary upon the strong chant of the pilgrims, which reverberated233 in all the recesses235 of the gloomy cave,—fresh, hearty236 voices, such as these skulls have heard (if they can hear) for many centuries. The pilgrims come, and chant, and depart, generation after generation; the bones and skulls of the fourteen thousand martyrs237 in this charnel-bin enjoy a sort of repulsive238 immortality239. The monk, who was our guide, appeared to care no more for the remains240 of the martyrs than for the presence of the pilgrims. In visiting such storehouses one cannot but be struck by the light familiarity with the relics241 and insignia of death which the monks have acquired.
This St. John of Damascus, whose remains repose72 here, was a fiery character in his day, and favored by a special miracle before he became a saint. He so distinguished242 himself by his invectives against Leo and Constantine and other iconoclast243 emperors at Constantinople who, in the eighth century, attempted to extirpate image-worship from the Catholic church, that he was sentenced to lose his right hand. The story is that it was instantly restored by the Virgin Mary. It is worthy244 of note that the superstitious245 Orient more readily gave up idolatry or image-worship under the Moslems than under the Christians.
As the sun was setting we left the pilgrims chanting to the martyrs, and hastened to explore the premises246 a little, before the light should fade. We followed our guide up stairs and down stairs, sometimes cut in the stone, sometimes wooden stairways, along hanging galleries, through corridors hewn in the rock, amid cells and little chapels,—a most intricate labyrinth, in which the uninitiated would soon lose his way. Here and there we came suddenly upon a little garden spot as big as a bed-blanket, a ledge upon which soil had been deposited. We walked also under grape-trellises, we saw orange-trees, and the single palm-tree that the convent boasts, said to have been planted by St. Sabas himself. The plan of this establishment gradually developed itself to us. It differs from an ordinary convent chiefly in this,—the latter is spread out flat on the earth, Mar Saba is set up edgewise. Put Mar Saba on a plain, and these little garden spots and graperies would be courts and squares amid buildings, these galleries would be bridges, these cells or horizontal caves would be perpendicular247 tombs and reservoirs.
When we arrived, we supposed that we were almost the only guests. But we found that the place was full of Greek and Russian pilgrims; we encountered them on the terraces, on the flat roofs, in the caves, and in all out-of-the-way nooks. Yet these were not the most pleasing nor the most animated248 tenants249 of the place; wherever we went the old rookery was made cheerful by the twittering notes of black birds with yellow wings, a species of grakle, which the monks have domesticated250, and which breed in great numbers. Steeled as these good brothers are against the other sex, we were glad to discover this streak251 of softness in their nature. High up on the precipice there is a bell-tower attached to a little chapel, and in it hang twenty small bells, which are rung to call the inmates to prayer. Even at this height, and indeed wherever we penetrated252, we were followed by the monotonous253 chant which issued from the charnel-house.
We passed by a long row of cells occupied by the monks, but were not permitted to look into them; nor were we allowed to see the library, which is said to be rich in illuminated manuscripts. The convent belongs to the Greek church; its monks take the usual vows254 of poverty, chastity, and obedience255, and fortify256 themselves in their holiness by opposing walls of adamant257 to all womankind. There are about fifty monks here at present, and uncommonly258 fine-looking fellows,—not at all the gross and greasy259 sort of monk that is sometimes met. Their outward dress is very neat, consisting of a simple black gown and a round, high, flat-topped black cap.
Our dinner, when it was brought into our apartment, answered very well one's idea of a dessert, but it was a very good Oriental dinner. The chief articles were a piece of hard black bread, and two boiled eggs, cold, and probably brought by some pilgrim from Jerusalem; but besides, there were raisins, cheese, figs260, oranges, a bottle of golden wine, and tea. The wine was worthy to be celebrated261 in classic verse; none so good is, I am sure, made elsewhere in Syria; it was liquid sunshine; and as it was manufactured by the monks, it gave us a new respect for their fastidious taste.
The vaulted chamber which we occupied was furnished on three sides with a low divan262, which answered the double purpose of chairs and couch. On one side, however, and elevated in the wall, was a long niche263, exactly like the recessed264 tombs in cathedrals, upon which, toes turned up, lie the bronze or wooden figures of the occupants. This was the bed of honor. It was furnished with a mattress265 and a thick counterpane having one sheet sewed to it. With reluctance266 I accepted the distinction of climbing into it, and there I slept, laid out, for all the world, like my own effigy267. From the ceiling hung a dim oil-lamp, which cast a gloom rather than a light upon our sepulchral268 place of repose. Our windows looked out towards the west, upon the court, upon the stairs, upon the terraces, roofs, holes, caves, grottos269, wooden balconies, bird-cages, steps entering the rock and leading to cells; and, towards the south, along the jagged precipice. The convent occupies the precipice from the top nearly to the bottom of the ravine; the precipice opposite is nearly perpendicular, close at hand, and permits no view in that direction. Heaven is the only object in sight from this retreat.
Before the twilight270 fell the chanting was still going on in the cavern271, monks and pilgrims were gliding272 about the court, and numbers of the latter were clustered in the vestibule of the church, in which they were settling down to lodge for the night; and high above us I saw three gaudily273 attired274 Bedaween, who had accompanied some travellers from the Dead Sea, leaning over the balustrade of the stairs, and regarding the scene with Moslem complacency. The hive settled slowly to rest.
But the place was by no means still at night. There was in the court an old pilgrim who had brought a cough from the heart of Russia, who seemed to be trying to cough himself inside out. There were other noises that could not be explained. There was a good deal of clattering276 about in wooden shoes. Every sound was multiplied and reduplicated from the echoing rocks. The strangeness of the situation did not conduce to sleep, not even to an effigy-like repose; but after looking from the window upon the march of the quiet stars, after watching the new moon disappear between the roofs, and after seeing that the door of St. Sabas's tomb was closed, although his light was still burning, I turned in; and after a time, during which I was conscious that not even vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are respected by fleas277, I fell into a light sleep.
From this I was aroused by a noise that seemed like the call to judgment, by the most clamorous278 jangle of discordant279 bells,—all the twenty were ringing at once, and each in a different key. It was not simply a din7, it was an earthquake of sound. The peals280 were echoed from the opposite ledges, and reverberated among the rocks and caves and sharp angles of the convent, until the crash was intolerable. It was worse than the slam, bang, shriek65, clang, clash, roar, dissonance, thunder, and hurricane with which all musicians think it absolutely necessary to close any overture281, symphony, or musical composition whatever, however decent and quiet it may be. It was enough to rouse the deafest pilgrim, to wake the dead martyrs and set the fourteen thousand skulls hunting for their bones, to call even St. Sabas himself from his tomb. I arose. I saw in the starlight figures moving about the court, monks in their simple black gowns. It was, I comprehended then, the call to midnight prayer in the chapel, and, resolved not to be disturbed further by it, I climbed back into my tomb.
But the clamor continued; I heard such a clatter275 of hobnailed shoes on the pavement, besides, that I could bear it no longer, got up, slipped into some of my clothes, opened the door, and descended by our winding private stairway into the court.
The door of St. Sabas's tomb was wide open!
Were the graves opening, and the dead taking the air? Did this tomb open of its own accord? Out of its illuminated interior would the saint stalk forth282 and join this great procession, the reveille of the quick and the slow?
From above and from below, up stairs and down stairs, out of caves and grottos and all odd roosting-places, the monks and pilgrims were pouring and streaming into the court; and the bells incessantly283 called more and more importunately284 as the loiterers delayed.
The church was open, and lighted at the altar end. I glided285 in with the other ghostly, hastily clad, and yawning pilgrims. The screen at the apse before the holy place, a mass of silver and gilding286, sparkled in the candlelight; the cross above it gleamed like a revelation out of the gloom; but half of the church was in heavy shadow. From the penetralia came the sound of priestly chanting; in the wooden stalls along each side of the church stood, facing the altar, the black and motionless figures of the brothers. The pilgrims were crowding and jostling in at the door. A brother gave me a stall near the door, and I stood in it, as statue-like as I could, and became a brother for the time being.
At the left of the door stood a monk with impassive face; before him on a table were piles of wax tapers288 and a solitary lighted candle. Every pilgrim who entered bought a taper287 and paid two coppers289 for it. If he had not the change the monk gave him change, and the pilgrim carefully counted what he received and objected to any piece he thought not current. You may wake these people up any time of night, and find their perceptions about money unobscured. The seller never looked at the buyer, nor at anything except the tapers and the money.
The pilgrims were of all ages and grades; very old men, stout290, middle-aged291 men, and young athletic292 fellows; there were Russians from all the provinces; Greeks from the isles93, with long black locks and dark eyes, in fancy embroidered293 jackets and leggins, swarthy bandits and midnight pirates in appearance. But it tends to make anybody look like a pirate to wake him up at twelve o'clock at night, and haul him into the light with no time to comb his hair. I dare say that I may have appeared to these honest people like a Western land-pirate. And yet I should rather meet some of those Greeks in a lighted church than outside the walls at midnight.
Each pilgrim knelt and bowed himself, then lighted his taper and placed it on one of the tripods before the screen. In time the church was very fairly illuminated, and nearly filled with standing worshippers, bowing, crossing themselves, and responding to the reading and chanting in low murmurs294. The chanting was a very nasal intoning, usually slow, but now and then breaking into a lively gallop. The assemblage, quiet and respectful, but clad in all the vagaries295 of Oriental colors and rags, contained some faces that appeared very wild in the half-light. When the service had gone on half an hour, a priest came out with a tinkling296 censer and incensed297 carefully every nook and corner and person (even the vestibule, where some of the pilgrims slept, which needed it), until the church was filled with smoke and perfume. The performance went on for an hour or more, but I crept back to bed long before it was over, and fell to sleep on the drone of the intoning.
We were up before sunrise on Sunday morning. The pilgrims were already leaving for Jerusalem. There was no trace of the last night's revelry; everything was commonplace in the bright daylight. We were served with coffee, and then finished our exploration of the premises.
That which we had postponed298 as the most interesting sight was the cell of St. Sabas. It is a natural grotto in the rock, somewhat enlarged either by the saint or by his successors. When St. Sabas first came to this spot, he found a lion in possession. It was not the worst kind of a lion, but a sort of Jud鎍n lion, one of those meek299 beasts over whom the ancient hermits had so much control. St. Sabas looked at the cave and at the lion, but the cave suited him better than the lion. The lion looked at the saint, and evidently knew what was passing in his mind. For the lions in those days were nearly as intelligent as anybody else. And then St. Sabas told the lion to go away, that he wanted that lodging300 for himself. And the lion, without a growl301, put his tail down, and immediately went away. There is a picture of this interview still preserved at the convent, and any one can see that it is probable that such a lion as the artist has represented would move on when requested to do so.
In the cave is a little recess234, the entrance to which is a small hole, a recess just large enough to accommodate a person in a sitting posture302. In this place St. Sabas sat for seven years, without once coming out. That was before the present walls were built in front of the grotto, and he had some light,—he sat seven years on that hard stone, as long as the present French Assembly intends to sit. It was with him also a provisional sitting, in fact, a Septennate.
In the court-yard, as we were departing, were displayed articles to sell to the pious pilgrims: canes303 from the Jordan; crosses painted, and inlaid with cedar304 or olive wood, or some sort of Jordan timber; rude paintings of the sign-board order done by the monks, St. George and the Dragon being the favorite subject; hyperbolical pictures of the convent and the saint, stamped in black upon cotton cloth; and holy olive-oil in tin cans.
Perhaps the most taking article of merchandise offered was dates from the palm-tree that St. Sabas planted. These dates have no seeds. There was something appropriate about this; childless monks, seedless dates. One could understand that. But these dates were bought by the pilgrims to carry to their wives who desire but have not sons. By what reasoning the monks have convinced them that fruitless dates will be a cause of fruitfulness, I do not know.
We paid our tribute, climbed up the stairways and out the grim gate into the highway, and had a glorious ride in the fresh morning air, the way enlivened by wild-flowers, blue sky, Bedaween, and troops of returning pilgrims, and finally ennobled by the sight of Jerusalem itself, conspicuous305 on its hill.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
reposing
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
stony
|
|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
promontory
|
|
| n.海角；岬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
eastward
|
|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
chapels
|
|
| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
mar
|
|
| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
hardy
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
turbulence
|
|
| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
primal
|
|
| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
perpetuating
|
|
| perpetuate的现在进行式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
afflicted
|
|
| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
philistines
|
|
| n.市侩，庸人( philistine的名词复数 )；庸夫俗子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
philistine
|
|
| n.庸俗的人；adj.市侩的，庸俗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
steadfastness
|
|
| n.坚定，稳当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
Moslem
|
|
| n.回教徒，穆罕默德信徒；adj.回教徒的，回教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
industrious
|
|
| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
consecration
|
|
| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
reverence
|
|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
ruggedness
|
|
| 险峻，粗野； 耐久性； 坚固性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
desolateness
|
|
| 孤独 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
puerile
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
monkish
|
|
| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
monk
|
|
| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
cultivation
|
|
| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
ridges
|
|
| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
authentic
|
|
| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
veneration
|
|
| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
ERECTED
|
|
| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
cemetery
|
|
| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
wail
|
|
| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
scowls
|
|
| 不悦之色，怒容( scowl的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
gaped
|
|
| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
brats
|
|
| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
ornaments
|
|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
shrieking
|
|
| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
wailing
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
conspired
|
|
| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
reposeful
|
|
| adj.平稳的，沉着的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
72
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
wares
|
|
| n. 货物, 商品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
monks
|
|
| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
dungeon
|
|
| n.地牢，土牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
gleaning
|
|
| n.拾落穗，拾遗，落穗v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的现在分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
barley
|
|
| n.大麦，大麦粒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
morsel
|
|
| n.一口，一点点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
parched
|
|
| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
grotto
|
|
| n.洞穴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
pretensions
|
|
| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
saviour
|
|
| n.拯救者，救星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
antiquity
|
|
| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
clement
|
|
| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
nave
|
|
| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
aisles
|
|
| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
mosaics
|
|
| n.马赛克( mosaic的名词复数 )；镶嵌；镶嵌工艺；镶嵌图案 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
sects
|
|
| n.宗派，教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
sect
|
|
| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
arena
|
|
| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
choir
|
|
| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
subterranean
|
|
| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
labyrinth
|
|
| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
glistening
|
|
| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
shrines
|
|
| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
vault
|
|
| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
hermit
|
|
| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
renounced
|
|
| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
allurements
|
|
| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
devout
|
|
| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
thronged
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
treatises
|
|
| n.专题著作，专题论文，专著( treatise的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
vaulted
|
|
| adj.拱状的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
canine
|
|
| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
trump
|
|
| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
excavation
|
|
| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
miraculous
|
|
| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
superstitions
|
|
| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
docile
|
|
| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
modesty
|
|
| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
diverged
|
|
| 分开( diverge的过去式和过去分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
piety
|
|
| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
frugality
|
|
| n.节约，节俭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
hermits
|
|
| （尤指早期基督教的）隐居修道士，隐士，遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
ascetic
|
|
| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
barbarian
|
|
| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
abasement
|
|
| n.滥用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
swarm
|
|
| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
burrowed
|
|
| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 )；翻寻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
manliness
|
|
| 刚毅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
virile
|
|
| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
extirpate
|
|
| v.除尽，灭绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
monasteries
|
|
| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
gorges
|
|
| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
gorge
|
|
| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
chastise
|
|
| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
precipice
|
|
| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
nucleus
|
|
| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
volatile
|
|
| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
bridle
|
|
| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
reins
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
trot
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
jolt
|
|
| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
strings
|
|
| n.弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
shred
|
|
| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
shreds
|
|
| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
forte
|
|
| n.长处，擅长；adj.(音乐)强音的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
stigmatizes
|
|
| v.使受耻辱，指责，污辱( stigmatize的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
183
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
scant
|
|
| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
anemones
|
|
| n.银莲花( anemone的名词复数 )；海葵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
ascending
|
|
| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
precipices
|
|
| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
excavated
|
|
| v.挖掘( excavate的过去式和过去分词 )；开凿；挖出；发掘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
jutting
|
|
| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
ledge
|
|
| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
ledges
|
|
| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
wasps
|
|
| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
descending
|
|
| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
slit
|
|
| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
relic
|
|
| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
plunder
|
|
| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
fortress
|
|
| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
seclusion
|
|
| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
ordination
|
|
| n.授任圣职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
upbraid
|
|
| v.斥责，责骂，责备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
exclusion
|
|
| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
defamation
|
|
| n.诽谤；中伤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
proximity
|
|
| n.接近，邻近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
inmates
|
|
| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
inquisitive
|
|
| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
foe
|
|
| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
parley
|
|
| n.谈判 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
zigzag
|
|
| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
lodged
|
|
| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
augured
|
|
| v.预示，预兆，预言( augur的过去式和过去分词 )；成为预兆；占卜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
raisins
|
|
| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
oysters
|
|
| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
stewed
|
|
| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
broiled
|
|
| a.烤过的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
levity
|
|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
jolting
|
|
| adj.令人震惊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
skulls
|
|
| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
reverberated
|
|
| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
234
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
235
recesses
|
|
| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
236
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
237
martyrs
|
|
| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
238
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
239
immortality
|
|
| n.不死，不朽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
240
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
241
relics
|
|
| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
242
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
243
iconoclast
|
|
| n.反对崇拜偶像者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
244
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
245
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
246
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
247
perpendicular
|
|
| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
248
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
249
tenants
|
|
| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
250
domesticated
|
|
| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
251
streak
|
|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
252
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
253
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
254
vows
|
|
| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
255
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
256
fortify
|
|
| v.强化防御，为…设防；加强，强化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
257
adamant
|
|
| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
258
uncommonly
|
|
| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
259
greasy
|
|
| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
260
figs
|
|
| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
261
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
262
divan
|
|
| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
263
niche
|
|
| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
264
recessed
|
|
| v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的过去式和过去分词 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
265
mattress
|
|
| n.床垫，床褥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
266
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
267
effigy
|
|
| n.肖像 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
268
sepulchral
|
|
| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
269
grottos
|
|
| n.（吸引人的）岩洞，洞穴，（人挖的）洞室( grotto的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
270
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
271
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
272
gliding
|
|
| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
273
gaudily
|
|
| adv.俗丽地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
274
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
275
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
276
clattering
|
|
| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
277
fleas
|
|
| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
278
clamorous
|
|
| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
279
discordant
|
|
| adj.不调和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
280
peals
|
|
| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
281
overture
|
|
| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
282
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
283
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
284
importunately
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
285
glided
|
|
| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
286
gilding
|
|
| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
287
taper
|
|
| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
288
tapers
|
|
| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
289
coppers
|
|
| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
291
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
292
athletic
|
|
| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
293
embroidered
|
|
| adj．绣花的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
294
murmurs
|
|
| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
295
vagaries
|
|
| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
296
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
297
incensed
|
|
| 盛怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
298
postponed
|
|
| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
299
meek
|
|
| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
300
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
301
growl
|
|
| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
302
posture
|
|
| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
303
canes
|
|
| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
304
cedar
|
|
| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
305
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |