"Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory."[1]
[1] I Cor. 15:57.
Have not many of us, in the weary way of life, felt, in some hours, how far easier it were to die than to live?
The martyr1, when faced even by a death of bodily anguish2 and horror, finds in the very terror of his doom3 a strong stimulant4 and tonic5. There is a vivid excitement, a thrill and fervor6, which may carry through any crisis of suffering that is the birth-hour of eternal glory and rest.
But to live,--to wear on, day after day, of mean, bitter, low, harassing7 servitude, every nerve dampened and depressed8, every power of feeling gradually smothered,--this long and wasting heart-martyrdom, this slow, daily bleeding away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour,--this is the true searching test of what there may be in man or woman.
When Tom stood face to face with his persecutor9, and heard his threats, and thought in his very soul that his hour was come, his heart swelled10 bravely in him, and he thought he could bear torture and fire, bear anything, with the vision of Jesus and heaven but just a step beyond; but, when he was gone, and the present excitement passed off, came back the pain of his bruised11 and weary limbs,--came back the sense of his utterly12 degraded, hopeless, forlorn estate; and the day passed wearily enough.
Long before his wounds were healed, Legree insisted that he should be put to the regular field-work; and then came day after day of pain and weariness, aggravated13 by every kind of injustice14 and indignity15 that the ill-will of a mean and malicious16 mind could devise. Whoever, in _our_ circumstances, has made trial of pain, even with all the alleviations which, for us, usually attend it, must know the irritation17 that comes with it. Tom no longer wondered at the habitual18 surliness of his associates; nay19, he found the placid20, sunny temper, which had been the habitude of his life, broken in on, and sorely strained, by the inroads of the same thing. He had flattered himself on leisure to read his Bible; but there was no such thing as leisure there. In the height of the season, Legree did not hesitate to press all his hands through, Sundays and week-days alike. Why shouldn't he?--he made more cotton by it, and gained his wager21; and if it wore out a few more hands, he could buy better ones. At first, Tom used to read a verse or two of his Bible, by the flicker22 of the fire, after he had returned from his daily toil23; but, after the cruel treatment he received, he used to come home so exhausted24, that his head swam and his eyes failed when he tried to read; and he was fain to stretch himself down, with the others, in utter exhaustion25.
Is it strange that the religious peace and trust, which had upborne him hitherto, should give way to tossings of soul and despondent26 darkness? The gloomiest problem of this mysterious life was constantly before his eyes,--souls crushed and ruined, evil triumphant28, and God silent. It was weeks and months that Tom wrestled29, in his own soul, in darkness and sorrow. He thought of Miss Ophelia's letter to his Kentucky friends, and would pray earnestly that God would send him deliverance. And then he would watch, day after day, in the vague hope of seeing somebody sent to redeem30 him; and, when nobody came, he would crush back to his soul bitter thoughts,--that it was vain to serve God, that God had forgotten him. He sometimes saw Cassy; and sometimes, when summoned to the house, caught a glimpse of the dejected form of Emmeline, but held very little communion with either; in fact, there was no time for him to commune with anybody.
One evening, he was sitting, in utter dejection and prostration31, by a few decaying brands, where his coarse supper was baking. He put a few bits of brushwood on the fire, and strove to raise the light, and then drew his worn Bible from his pocket. There were all the marked passages, which had thrilled his soul so often,--words of patriarchs and seers, poets and sages32, who from early time had spoken courage to man,--voices from the great cloud of witnesses who ever surround us in the race of life. Had the word lost its power, or could the failing eye and weary sense no longer answer to the touch of that mighty33 inspiration? Heavily sighing, he put it in his pocket. A coarse laugh roused him; he looked up,--Legree was standing34 opposite to him.
"Well, old boy," he said, "you find your religion don't work, it seems! I thought I should get that through your wool, at last!"
The cruel taunt35 was more than hunger and cold and nakedness. Tom was silent.
"You were a fool," said Legree; "for I meant to do well by you, when I bought you. You might have been better off than Sambo, or Quimbo either, and had easy times; and, instead of getting cut up and thrashed, every day or two, ye might have had liberty to lord it round, and cut up the other niggers; and ye might have had, now and then, a good warming of whiskey punch. Come, Tom, don't you think you'd better be reasonable?--heave that ar old pack of trash in the fire, and join my church!"
"The Lord forbid!" said Tom, fervently36.
"You see the Lord an't going to help you; if he had been, he wouldn't have let _me_ get you! This yer religion is all a mess of lying trumpery37, Tom. I know all about it. Ye'd better hold to me; I'm somebody, and can do something!"
"No, Mas'r," said Tom; "I'll hold on. The Lord may help me, or not help; but I'll hold to him, and believe him to the last!"
"The more fool you!" said Legree, spitting scornfully at him, and spurning38 him with his foot. "Never mind; I'll chase you down, yet, and bring you under,--you'll see!" and Legree turned away.
When a heavy weight presses the soul to the lowest level at which endurance is possible, there is an instant and desperate effort of every physical and moral nerve to throw off the weight; and hence the heaviest anguish often precedes a return tide of joy and courage. So was it now with Tom. The atheistic39 taunts40 of his cruel master sunk his before dejected soul to the lowest ebb41; and, though the hand of faith still held to the eternal rock, it was a numb42, despairing grasp. Tom sat, like one stunned43, at the fire. Suddenly everything around him seemed to fade, and a vision rose before him of one crowned with thorns, buffeted44 and bleeding. Tom gazed, in awe45 and wonder, at the majestic46 patience of the face; the deep, pathetic eyes thrilled him to his inmost heart; his soul woke, as, with floods of emotion, he stretched out his hands and fell upon his knees,--when, gradually, the vision changed: the sharp thorns became rays of glory; and, in splendor47 inconceivable, he saw that same face bending compassionately50 towards him, and a voice said, "He that overcometh shall sit down with me on my throne, even as I also overcome, and am set down with my Father on his throne."
How long Tom lay there, he knew not. When he came to himself, the fire was gone out, his clothes were wet with the chill and drenching51 dews; but the dread52 soul-crisis was past, and, in the joy that filled him, he no longer felt hunger, cold, degradation53, disappointment, wretchedness. From his deepest soul, he that hour loosed and parted from every hope in life that now is, and offered his own will an unquestioning sacrifice to the Infinite. Tom looked up to the silent, ever-living stars,--types of the angelic hosts who ever look down on man; and the solitude54 of the night rung with the triumphant words of a hymn55, which he had sung often in happier days, but never with such feeling as now:
"The earth shall be dissolved like snow, The sun shall cease to shine; But God, who called me here below, Shall be forever mine.
"And when this mortal life shall fail, And flesh and sense shall cease, I shall possess within the veil A life of joy and peace.
"When we've been there ten thousand years, Bright shining like the sun, We've no less days to sing God's praise Than when we first begun."
Those who have been familiar with the religious histories of the slave population know that relations like what we have narrated56 are very common among them. We have heard some from their own lips, of a very touching57 and affecting character. The psychologist tells us of a state, in which the affections and images of the mind become so dominant58 and overpowering, that they press into their service the outward imagining. Who shall measure what an all-pervading Spirit may do with these capabilities59 of our mortality, or the ways in which He may encourage the desponding souls of the desolate60? If the poor forgotten slave believes that Jesus hath appeared and spoken to him, who shall contradict him? Did He not say that his, mission, in all ages, was to bind61 up the broken-hearted, and set at liberty them that are bruised?
When the dim gray of dawn woke the slumberers to go forth62 to the field, there was among those tattered63 and shivering wretches64 one who walked with an exultant65 tread; for firmer than the ground he trod on was his strong faith in Almighty66, eternal love. Ah, Legree, try all your forces now! Utmost agony, woe67, degradation, want, and loss of all things, shall only hasten on the process by which he shall be made a king and a priest unto God!
From this time, an inviolable sphere of peace encompassed68 the lowly heart of the oppressed one,--an ever-present Saviour69 hallowed it as a temple. Past now the bleeding of earthly regrets; past its fluctuations70 of hope, and fear, and desire; the human will, bent71, and bleeding, and struggling long, was now entirely72 merged73 in the Divine. So short now seemed the remaining voyage of life,--so near, so vivid, seemed eternal blessedness,--that life's uttermost woes74 fell from him unharming.
All noticed the change in his appearance. Cheerfulness and alertness seemed to return to him, and a quietness which no insult or injury could ruffle75 seemed to possess him.
"What the devil's got into Tom?" Legree said to Sambo. "A while ago he was all down in the mouth, and now he's peart as a cricket."
"Dunno, Mas'r; gwine to run off, mebbe."
"Like to see him try that," said Legree, with a savage76 grin, "wouldn't we, Sambo?"
"Guess we would! Haw! haw! ho!" said the sooty gnome77, laughing obsequiously78. "Lord, de fun! To see him stickin' in de mud,--chasin' and tarin' through de bushes, dogs a holdin' on to him! Lord, I laughed fit to split, dat ar time we cotched Molly. I thought they'd a had her all stripped up afore I could get 'em off. She car's de marks o' dat ar spree yet."
"I reckon she will, to her grave," said Legree. "But now, Sambo, you look sharp. If the nigger's got anything of this sort going, trip him up."
"Mas'r, let me lone79 for dat," said Sambo, "I'll tree de coon. Ho, ho, ho!"
This was spoken as Legree was getting on his horse, to go to the neighboring town. That night, as he was returning, he thought he would turn his horse and ride round the quarters, and see if all was safe.
It was a superb moonlight night, and the shadows of the graceful80 China trees lay minutely pencilled on the turf below, and there was that transparent81 stillness in the air which it seems almost unholy to disturb. Legree was a little distance from the quarters, when he heard the voice of some one singing. It was not a usual sound there, and he paused to listen. A musical tenor82 voice sang,
"When I can read my title clear To mansions83 in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes
"Should earth against my soul engage, And hellish darts84 be hurled85, Then I can smile at Satan's rage, And face a frowning world.
"Let cares like a wild deluge86 come,
And storms of sorrow fall, May I but safely reach my home, My god, my Heaven, my All."[2]
[2] "On My Journey Home," hymn by Isaac Watts87, found in many of the southern country songbooks of the ante bellum period.
"So ho!" said Legree to himself, "he thinks so, does he? How I hate these cursed Methodist hymns88! Here, you nigger," said he, coming suddenly out upon Tom, and raising his riding-whip, "how dare you be gettin' up this yer row, when you ought to be in bed? Shut yer old black gash89, and get along in with you!"
"Yes, Mas'r," said Tom, with ready cheerfulness, as he rose to to in.
Legree was provoked beyond measure by Tom's evident happiness; and riding up to him, belabored90 him over his head and shoulders.
"There, you dog," he said, "see if you'll feel so comfortable, after that!"
But the blows fell now only on the outer man, and not, as before, on the heart. Tom stood perfectly92 submissive; and yet Legree could not hide from himself that his power over his bond thrall93 was somehow gone. And, as Tom disappeared in his cabin, and he wheeled his horse suddenly round, there passed through his mind one of those vivid flashes that often send the lightning of conscience across the dark and wicked soul. He understood full well that it was GOD who was standing between him and his victim, and he blasphemed him. That submissive and silent man, whom taunts, nor threats, nor stripes, nor cruelties, could disturb, roused a voice within him, such as of old his Master roused in the demoniac soul, saying, "What have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth?--art thou come to torment94 us before the time?"
Tom's whole soul overflowed95 with compassion49 and sympathy for the poor wretches by whom he was surrounded. To him it seemed as if his life-sorrows were now over, and as if, out of that strange treasury96 of peace and joy, with which he had been endowed from above, he longed to pour out something for the relief of their woes. It is true, opportunities were scanty97; but, on the way to the fields, and back again, and during the hours of labor91, chances fell in his way of extending a helping-hand to the weary, the disheartened and discouraged. The poor, worn-down, brutalized creatures, at first, could scarce comprehend this; but, when it was continued week after week, and month after month, it began to awaken99 long-silent chords in their benumbed hearts. Gradually and imperceptibly the strange, silent, patient man, who was ready to bear every one's burden, and sought help from none,--who stood aside for all, and came last, and took least, yet was foremost to share his little all with any who needed,--the man who, in cold nights, would give up his tattered blanket to add to the comfort of some woman who shivered with sickness, and who filled the baskets of the weaker ones in the field, at the terrible risk of coming short in his own measure,--and who, though pursued with unrelenting cruelty by their common tyrant100, never joined in uttering a word of reviling101 or cursing,--this man, at last, began to have a strange power over them; and, when the more pressing season was past, and they were allowed again their Sundays for their own use, many would gather together to hear from him of Jesus. They would gladly have met to hear, and pray, and sing, in some place, together; but Legree would not permit it, and more than once broke up such attempts, with oaths and brutal98 execrations,--so that the blessed news had to circulate from individual to individual. Yet who can speak the simple joy with which some of those poor outcasts, to whom life was a joyless journey to a dark unknown, heard of a compassionate48 Redeemer and a heavenl
y home? It is the statement of missionaries102, that, of all races of the earth, none have received the Gospel with quch eager docility103 as the African. The principle of reliance and unquestioning faith, which is its foundation, is more a native element in this race than any other; and it has often been found among them, that a stray seed of truth, borne on some breeze of accident into hearts the most ignorant, has sprung up into fruit, whose abundance has shamed that of higher and more skilful104 culture.
The poor mulatto woman, whose simple faith had been well-nigh crushed and overwhelmed, by the avalanche105 of cruelty and wrong which had fallen upon her, felt her soul raised up by the hymns and passages of Holy Writ106, which this lowly missionary107 breathed into her ear in intervals108, as they were going to and returning from work; and even the half-crazed and wandering mind of Cassy was soothed109 and calmed by his simple and unobtrusive influences.
Stung to madness and despair by the crushing agonies of a life, Cassy had often resolved in her soul an hour of retribution, when her hand should avenge110 on her oppressor all the injustice and cruelty to which she had been witness, or which _she_ had in her own person suffered.
One night, after all in Tom's cabin were sunk in sleep, he was suddenly aroused by seeing her face at the hole between the logs, that served for a window. She made a silent gesture for him to come out.
Tom came out the door. It was between one and two o'clock at night,--broad, calm, still moonlight. Tom remarked, as the light of the moon fell upon Cassy's large, black eyes, that there was a wild and peculiar111 glare in them, unlike their wonted fixed112 despair.
"Come here, Father Tom," she said, laying her small hand on his wrist, and drawing him forward with a force as if the hand were of steel; "come here,--I've news for you."
"What, Misse Cassy?" said Tom, anxiously.
"Tom, wouldn't you like your liberty?"
"I shall have it, Misse, in God's time," said Tom. "Ay, but you may have it tonight," said Cassy, with a flash of sudden energy. "Come on."
Tom hesitated.
"Come!" said she, in a whisper, fixing her black eyes on him. "Come along! He's asleep--sound. I put enough into his brandy to keep him so. I wish I'd had more,--I shouldn't have wanted you. But come, the back door is unlocked; there's an axe113 there, I put it there,--his room door is open; I'll show you the way.
I'd a done it myself, only my arms are so weak. Come along!"
"Not for ten thousand worlds, Misse!" said Tom, firmly, stopping and holding her back, as she was pressing forward.
"But think of all these poor creatures," said Cassy. "We might set them all free, and go somewhere in the swamps, and find an island, and live by ourselves; I've heard of its being done. Any life is better than this."
"No!" said Tom, firmly. "No! good never comes of wickedness. I'd sooner chop my right hand off!"
"Then _I_ shall do it," said Cassy, turning.
"O, Misse Cassy!" said Tom, throwing himself before her, "for the dear Lord's sake that died for ye, don't sell your precious soul to the devil, that way! Nothing but evil will come of it. The Lord hasn't called us to wrath114. We must suffer, and wait his time."
"Wait!" said Cassy. "Haven't I waited?--waited till my head is dizzy and my heart sick? What has he made me suffer? What has he made hundreds of poor creatures suffer? Isn't he wringing115 the life-blood out of you? I'm called on; they call me! His time's come, and I'll have his heart's blood!"
"No, no, no!" said Tom, holding her small hands, which were clenched116 with spasmodic violence. "No, ye poor, lost soul, that ye mustn't do. The dear, blessed Lord never shed no blood but his own, and that he poured out for us when we was enemies. Lord, help us to follow his steps, and love our enemies."
"Love!" said Cassy, with a fierce glare; "love _such_ enemies! It isn't in flesh and blood."
"No, Misse, it isn't," said Tom, looking up; "but _He_ gives it to us, and that's the victory. When we can love and pray over all and through all, the battle's past, and the victory's come,--glory be to God!" And, with streaming eyes and choking voice, the black man looked up to heaven.
And this, oh Africa! latest called of nations,--called to the crown of thorns, the scourge117, the bloody118 sweat, the cross of agony,--this is to be _thy_ victory; by this shalt thou reign119 with Christ when his kingdom shall come on earth.
The deep fervor of Tom's feelings, the softness of his voice, his tears, fell like dew on the wild, unsettled spirit of the poor woman. A softness gathered over the lurid120 fires of her eye; she looked down, and Tom could feel the relaxing muscles of her hands, as she said,
"Didn't I tell you that evil spirits followed me? O! Father Tom, I can't pray,--I wish I could. I never have prayed since my children were sold! What you say must be right, I know it must; but when I try to pray, I can only hate and curse. I can't pray!"
"Poor soul!" said Tom, compassionately. "Satan desires to have ye, and sift121 ye as wheat. I pray the Lord for ye. O! Misse Cassy, turn to the dear Lord Jesus. He came to bind up the broken-hearted, and comfort all that mourn."
Cassy stood silent, while large, heavy tears dropped from her downcast eyes.
"Misse Cassy," said Tom, in a hesitating tone, after surveying her in silence, "if ye only could get away from here,--if the thing was possible,--I'd 'vise ye and Emmeline to do it; that is, if ye could go without blood-guiltiness,--not otherwise."
"Would you try it with us, Father Tom?"
"No," said Tom; "time was when I would; but the Lord's given me a work among these yer poor souls, and I'll stay with 'em and bear my cross with 'em till the end. It's different with you; it's a snare122 to you,--it's more'n you can stand,--and you'd better go, if you can."
"I know no way but through the grave," said Cassy. "There's no beast or bird but can find a home some where; even the snakes and the alligators123 have their places to lie down and be quiet; but there's no place for us. Down in the darkest swamps, their dogs will hunt us out, and find us. Everybody and everything is against us; even the very beasts side against us,--and where shall we go?"
Tom stood silent; at length he said,
"Him that saved Daniel in the den27 of lions,--that saves the children in the fiery124 furnace,--Him that walked on the sea, and bade the winds be still,--He's alive yet; and I've faith to believe he can deliver you. Try it, and I'll pray, with all my might, for you."
By what strange law of mind is it that an idea long overlooked, and trodden under foot as a useless stone, suddenly sparkles out in new light, as a discovered diamond?
Cassy had often revolved125, for hours, all possible or probable schemes of escape, and dismissed them all, as hopeless and impracticable; but at this moment there flashed through her mind a plan, so simple and feasible in all its details, as to awaken an instant hope.
"Father Tom, I'll try it!" she said, suddenly.
"Amen!" said Tom; "the Lord help ye!"
收听单词发音 |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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harassing
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| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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persecutor
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| n. 迫害者 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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sages
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| n.圣人( sage的名词复数 )；智者；哲人；鼠尾草（可用作调料） | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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trumpery
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| n.无价值的杂物；adj.（物品）中看不中用的 | |
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spurning
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的现在分词 ) | |
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atheistic
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| adj.无神论者的 | |
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40
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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41
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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42
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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43
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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44
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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45
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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46
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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47
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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48
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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49
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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50
compassionately
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| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
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51
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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52
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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53
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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54
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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55
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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56
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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58
dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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59
capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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60
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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61
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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62
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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63
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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64
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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65
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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66
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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67
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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encompassed
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| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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69
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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70
fluctuations
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| 波动，涨落，起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
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71
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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72
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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73
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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74
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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75
ruffle
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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77
gnome
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| n.土地神；侏儒，地精 | |
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obsequiously
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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81
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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82
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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83
mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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84
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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85
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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86
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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87
watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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88
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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89
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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belabored
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| v.毒打一顿( belabor的过去式和过去分词 )；责骂；就…作过度的说明；向…唠叨 | |
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91
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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93
thrall
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| n.奴隶；奴隶制 | |
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94
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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95
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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96
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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97
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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98
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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99
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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100
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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101
reviling
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的现在分词 ) | |
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102
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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103
docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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104
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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105
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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106
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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107
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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108
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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109
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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110
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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111
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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112
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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113
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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114
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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115
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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116
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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118
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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119
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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120
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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121
sift
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| v.筛撒，纷落，详察 | |
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122
snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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123
alligators
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| n.短吻鳄( alligator的名词复数 ) | |
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124
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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125
revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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