Of course, if a man speak of the Scotch1 in any but the most dulcet4 tones he invites the onslaught of a thousand witty5 pens. The bare title of the present essay is pronounced by good judges to be uncomplimentary to Scotland, and I can well imagine that since its announcement Drs. Lang, Archer6, Robertson Nicoll, Ross, and Hamish Hendry, together with a base residuum of anonymous7 reviewers, have made a point of sleeping in their clothes in order that they might be “ready, aye ready,” to deal faithfully with the haughty8 Southron at the earliest possible moment. I like to think, however, that Dr. Lang, who, with true Scottish shrewdness, avowed9 himself but yesterday a convinced[3] crystal-gazer,[3] has had due prevision of the friendliness10 of my intentions. Were I disposed to bloody11 battle, I might have opened fire by remarking in hot type that if you scratch a Scotchman you will find a very low person indeed. Or I could have thrown from my pompom that shining projectile12:
False Scot
Sold his king
For a groat.
But who, that has a feeling for warfare13, would fight with a Scotchman? Such a one, I hope, does not breathe; the plain fact being that if a Scot beats you, he beats you; whereas, if you begin to beat a Scot, he will assuredly bawl14, in the King’s name, for the law. “Hech, sirs, rin for the polis. Ah’m gettin’ whupped!” Let us therefore continue our discourse15 amicably16.
Your proper child of Caledonia believes in his bones that he is the salt of the earth. Prompted by a glozing pride, not to[4] say by a black and consuming avarice17, he has proclaimed his saltiness from the house-tops in and out of season, unblushingly, assiduously, and with results which have no doubt been most satisfactory from his own point of view. There is nothing creditable to the race of men, from filial piety18 to a pretty taste in claret, which he has not sedulously19 advertised as a virtue20 peculiar21 to himself. This arrogation22 has served him passing well. It has brought him into unrivalled esteem23. He is the one species of human animal that is taken by all the world to be fifty per cent cleverer and pluckier and honester than the facts warrant. He is the daw with a peacock’s tail of his own painting. He is the ass3 who has been at pains to cultivate the convincing roar of a lion. He is the fine gentleman whose father toils24 with a muck-fork. And, to have done with parable25, he is the clumsy lout26 from Tullietudlescleugh, who, after a childhood of intimacy27 with the crudest sort of poverty, and twelve months at “the college” on moneys wrung28 from the[5] diet of his family,[4] drops his threadbare kilt and comes South in a slop suit to instruct the English in the arts of civilisation29 and in the English language. And because he is Scotch, and the Scotch superstition30 is heavy on our Southern lands, England will forthwith give him a chance; for an English chance is his birthright. Soon, forbye, shall he be living in “chambers” and writing idiot books. Or he shall swell32 and hector and fume33 in the sub-editor’s room of a halfpenny paper. Or a pompous34 and gravel-blind city house shall grapple him to its soul in the capacity of confidential35 clerk. Or he shall be cashier in a jam factory, or “boo and boo” behind a mercer’s counter, or “wait on” in a coffee tavern36, or, for that matter, soak away his chapped spirit in the four-ale bars off Fleet Street. Hence, as an elegant writer in one of the weekly reviews puts it, the Englishman[6] “is painfully aware that it is the Scot who thrusts him aside in the contest for many of the best prizes.”
When one turns to the intimate study of the Scotch character as limned37 by Scotch authority, one finds oneself confronted with the work of two schools of artists, which, for the sake of convenience, we will dub38 the Old and New Schools. The Old School—of which, by the way, every Scotchman save one is either a member or a supporter—has had a tremendous vogue39 and has accomplished40 superhuman things for the country and people of its love. To this school the Scotch superstition owes its origin and its firm grip on the imagination of the average white man. It is a forthright41, downright, thorough sort of school, not in the least diffident or mealy-mouthed, not in the least ambiguous, not in the least infected with that “proud reserve” which is understood to be Scotland’s noblest heritage. Among the choice exemplars of the art of the Old School—and it has thousands of choice exemplars—we may reckon[7] Dr. George Lockhart, who wrote the Memoirs42 and thereby43 earned for himself imperishable fame. Lockhart was a “Scotland-for-ever” man of the first water. “As for the [Scots],” he says, “none will, I think, deny them to have been a Brave, Generous, Hardy44 People.… As the Scots were a Brave, so likewise were they a Polite People; every Country has its own peculiar Customs, and so had Scotland, but in the main they lived and were refined as other Countries; and this won’t seem strange, for the English themselves allow the Scots to be a Wise and Ingenious People, for say they to a Proverb, ‘They never knew a Scots Man a Fool.’ And if so, what should hinder them from being as well bred and civilised as any other People? Those of Rank (as they still do) travelled Abroad into foreign Countries for their Improvement, and vast numbers, when their Country at home did not require their services [mark the fine sophistry] went into that of foreign Princes, from whence after they had gained immortal45 Honour and Glory, they[8] returned home; and as it is obvious that at this very time (which must chiefly proceed from this humour of Travelling) the Scotch Gentry46 do far exceed those of England, so that in the one you shall find all the accomplishments47 of well-bred gentleman, and in your country English Esquires all the Barbarity imaginable.”[5] Thus Dr. George Lockhart, two hundred years ago. ’Tis a fair picture and a winning, if a trifle overstated. There stands your brilliant, and at the same time unassuming, figure of a Scotchman—“brave,” “generous,” “hardy,” “polite,” “refined,” “not a fool,” “well bred,” “civilised,” “travelled,” “wise,” “ingenious,” and immortally48 “honourable49” and “glorious.” Who can withstand him? Who would deny him the look of love, the patriot50 glow? Certainly not the men of his own blood, who have their livings to get. Certainly not the Scotchman, who perceives, by favour of Dr. Lockhart, his own impeccable[9] sonsie self done to the life. To this day the artists of the Old School continue to paint the same inspiring portrait, and if you look into the latest replica51, by no less judicial52 a hand than that of Dr. John Hill Burton[6] you shall discover the undying lineaments, bespeaking53 the undying virtues54, and composed sweetly to the purposes of the undying advertisement.
So much for the Old School. As for the New School, I take credit that it is a discovery of my own. It consists of one man only. He is a Scotchman, and his name is William Robertson Nicoll. Dr. Nicoll is the editor of the British Weekly. He also edits the Bookman, and lounges round letters in a paper called the Sketch55. Some time ago this great and good Scotchman was accused of indulging in too many literary aliases56. We were then informed by a protégé of his that it would be well for us to lift reverent57 eyes and behold58 in Dr. William Robertson Nicoll “a force in letters”—“the only force, some of[10] us think,” added the incense-breathing protégé. We looked and beheld59. Also we read, in Who’s Who, that Dr. Nicoll was the author of The Lamb of God, The Key of the Grave, The Incarnate60 Saviour61, The Return to the Cross, The Secret of Christian62 Experience, Songs of Rest, and Sunday Afternoon Verses, all, no doubt, excellent and exciting works, but obviously sealed to a department of letters in which we have not specialised. Therefore, we took “the-force-in-letters” notion for granted. Our own idea of Dr. Robertson Nicoll’s relation to letters will be set forth31 duly in another chapter. Meanwhile, it is necessary to say that Dr. Nicoll is one of those delightfully63 irresponsible literary forces who babble64 of “Mr. S. R. Crockett’s great novel Joan of the Sword Hand,” in one breath, and with the next pray to be delivered from “a misuse65 of words.”
But let us give honour where honour is due. There are white marks even on the editor of the British Weekly. For quite two years[11] past his dropsical pennyworth has been our constant solace66 in times of darkness and difficulty. Each week it contains a lengthy67 and helpful letter by one “Claudius Clear.” Many young Scotch writers have told us in many a useful paragraph that they do not think they are breaking a confidence when they say that “Claudius Clear” is one of the pen names of Dr. Robertson Nicoll. So that on the whole “Claudius” is a Scotchman, despite the circumstance that he dates his correspondence from Basil Regis, Middlesex, and masquerades in a name which is about as Scotch as “Schiepan.” For that matter, anybody might have guessed it from his syntax. And being a Scotchman, “Claudius” is, of course, omniscient68 and infallible. That is where the absurd beauty of him comes in. That, Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton, is why one reads the British Weekly. Do you wish to know how to run the Times? Would you care to be instructed in “the art of conversation”? Are you anxious to learn what is really meant by “good manners”? Would[12] you be advised on “Order and Method,” “Brilliance,” “Overwork,” “Handwriting,” “Publishing as a Profession,” “Editing as a Profession,” “The Keeping of Old Letters,” “How to Remember and how to Forget,” “The Art of Life,” “The Art of Taking things Coolly,” “Turning Out the Fools,” or indeed on any other matter under the sun—from “Vanity” to “Samuel”?—why, you just turn up “Claudius,” and there you are; two columns which settle the question swiftly and for ever. What wonder, then, that in my anxiety to get at the truth about Scotchmen, I should turn up “Claudius”? Nor have I turned him up in vain, as witness the following admirable words:
“In the first place, the Scotsman is a son of the rock. The circumstances of his birth and upbringing are as a rule very stern. He is cradled in the storm; he has to fight for life in a rough climate, in a huddle69 of grey houses. The amenities70 of life are by no means plentiful71. As a rule, money is scarce. There are few demonstrations72 of affection;[13] one is made to feel that he must trust himself, that man is a soldier, and life is a fight. [Here, Scot-like, the worthy73 “Claudius” breaks off to indulge in a little pathetic personal reminiscence.] When I look back to my early years it seems to me that the whole atmosphere was laden74 with care, that the strain on the hearts of the people was so tightened75 by the material needs of those who depended on them that life was a taut76 rope on which only a trained acrobat77 could keep his balance. The result was a feeling of constant anxiety, a dread78 of the future. It was haunted by fears which could hardly be measured, and as the years went on their difficulties seemed to increase. [Which, to say the least, is clumsily put.] In this way young Scotsmen were taught to take things seriously. They knew that their right arms must serve them, and they did not lean upon others. They were thus fiercely independent. They asked nothing from those about them—the asking would be vain. As they sought nothing they would give nothing.[14] Acknowledgment of superior position they resolutely79 refused; and they were ready to resent every assumption of superiority. They knew well that the door of opportunity opens but seldom, and were eager to enter it when it did open. They knew that success in any form was to be paid for, and they were willing to pay. They would work hard without complaining, and they were willing to sacrifice, and ever came to disdain80 the pleasures and amusements of life. They had been taught that it was of no use to complain, and they did not complain. But they made amends81 for this by refusing to be gracious, by a reserved and proud manner. They knew that competition was the law of life, and they were none too gentle in dealing82 with their competitors. Those who achieved positions were objects of criticism, and the criticism was pitiless enough. For a fight they were in constant readiness. ‘Touch me gin you daur,’ was the national motto, and there never was one more expressive83 of character. The Scotsman as a rule does not[15] take the offensive, but those who meddle84 with him must take all the consequences.”[7]
Clearly, as one might say, a Daniel come to judgment85! “Claudius Clear,” the New School, struts86 and roisters and swaggers as your Scot must do, or perish; but, on the whole and out of the honesty of his heart, he will modify. Perhaps he was not in the best of humours when he wrote the foregoing. Anyway it rather disposes of the gallant87 and debonair88 vision conjured89 up for us by the glowing pencils of the Old School. The generous, polite, refined, well-bred, civilised, and immortally honourable and glorious Scotchman of Dr. George Lockhart becomes, under the brush of Dr. Robertson Nicoll, another and a distinctly less beautiful personality. He is born on the rock. The amenities of life are not for him. He is haunted by constant fears. He will give nothing. He refuses to be gracious. He is none too gentle in dealing with his competitors. And[16] instead of saying “Nemo me impune lacesset,” as you might expect of a young man who has been to college, he whoops90 “Touch me gin you daur,” like any common rowdy. When I come to think of it, I am much obliged to the New School.
On another matter—a very big matter, indeed, with your common Scotchman—Dr. Nicoll is equally frank. “I think I may also say,” he remarks, “that the Scottish people cared very much for education and knowledge, far more in my opinion than the average Englishman. They thought about learning as the New Englanders did in the days of Emerson. The learned man was much more respected than the rich man. Perhaps there was an intuition that in the end of the day knowledge is the key to everything. But thirty years ago, at all events, knowledge was regarded as an end, and its possessor was profoundly esteemed91. The summum bonum[8] of the best Scottish[17] youth in those days was to be a professor.” Summum bonum is scarcely the phrase, but that and the New Englanders may pass. Scotland, admittedly, enjoys a reputation for learning of a sort. Once, I visited Edinburgh with a Scotchman. It was a rash thing to do, yet I did it. On the road north my Scotchman filled me with tales of his country’s culture. “You are not going into a dirty English city,” quoth he, “but into a centre of light and leading. Every man, woman, and child in ‘aud Immemour’ can at least read, and every publican in the place keeps a set of Chambers’s Encyclop?dia, a copy of Fox’s Book of Martyrs92, and plenty of back numbers of the Nineteenth Century, just as an English publican keeps for the use of his customers the Post Office Directory and Whitaker’s Almanack.” And the first thing I noticed when we got into Edinburgh was a fruiterer’s sign, upon which was written in startling letters:
FRUITS IN THERE SEASON
All the same, I concede that the Scotch[18] really do love learning. I gather, too, from unbiassed sources that they starve their mothers and make gin-mules of their fathers to get it. And when it is gotten, what a monstrous93 and unlovely possession it usually turns out to be. For your Scotchman always takes knowledge for wisdom. His learning consists wholly of “facts and figures,” all grouped methodically round that heaven-sent date, A.D. 1314,[9] and if you cannot tell him off-hand the salary of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the population of Otaheite and the names of the fixed94 stars, he votes you a damned ignorant Southron, and goes about telling his friends that he shouldn’t wonder if you never went to “the schule.” It may rejoice him to know that his readiness to answer all manner of questions involving book learning is in point of fact the beginnings of a species of idiocy95. Persons of whom this idiocy has got properly hold are[19] styled by the medical profession “idiot savants.” “In all asylums,” says Professor Vivian Poore, “you will find idiot savants.… There used to be at Earlswood—and I saw him when I visited Earlswood—an idiot quite incapable97 of taking care of himself, but who had a most extraordinary memory. When I went to the asylum96 the superintendent98 said to me: ‘Ask that man anything you like.’ It was rather a strange thing to be told to do; I said: ‘What kind of thing shall I ask about?’ And he said: ‘Any ordinary bit of knowledge.’ I said: ‘Tell me about Socrates.’ The idiot then drew himself up like a child would who was about to repeat a lesson, gave a cough, and told me about Socrates.… He knew a great deal more about Socrates than I did; he knew when he was born, why he was condemned99, the name of his wife, and everything that was essential to be known. This he repeated without difficulty. The superintendent gave a grin and said: ‘Would you like to ask him anything else?’ I was afraid that[20] the man might ask me something. I said: ‘What do you know about comets?’ Immediately he gave me—I presume correctly—all the facts about the chief comets, their periods of revolution, the names of the best known, and so on. Nothing that had ever been read by this patient did he seem to forget. The words which had been read to him seemed to have stuck to the cells of his brain like so much superior glue, and nothing would eradicate100 it.”[10]
How very, very, very Scotch! Who has not met just this idiot savant in a newspaper office, at the meetings of absurd societies, at the houses of uncultivated people? And always, always, he is Scotch. And always, always, he has that sententious trick of drawing himself up to launching into his subject by way of the self-satisfied cough of conscious knowledge.
And now, to make a handsome end for a brilliant chapter, let us remember
[21]
I. That Hadrian had the excellent sense to build a wall for the purpose of keeping the Scotch out of England.
II. That for a thousand years the Scot was England’s bitterest enemy, and plotted and made war against her with France.
III. That the Scotch deserted101 that large lame102 woman (and, according to the Scotch, that paragon103 of all the virtues), Mary Stuart, in her hour of direst need.
IV. That it was the Scotch who sold Charles I. (and a Stuart) to the Parliamentarians for ￡400,000.
V. That the Stuarts were the wickedest and stupidest kings Europe has ever known.
VI. That the Scotch are in point of fact quite the dullest race of white men in the world, and that they “knock along” simply by virtue of the Scottish superstition[22] coupled with plod104, thrift105, a gravid manner, and the ordinary endowments of mediocrity.
VII. That it was a Scotchman who introduced thistles into Canada, and that, very likely, it was a Scotchman who introduced rabbits into Australia.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
dulcet
|
|
| adj.悦耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
witty
|
|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
archer
|
|
| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
anonymous
|
|
| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
avowed
|
|
| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
friendliness
|
|
| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
bloody
|
|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
projectile
|
|
| n.投射物，发射体；adj.向前开进的；推进的；抛掷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
bawl
|
|
| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
amicably
|
|
| adv.友善地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
avarice
|
|
| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
piety
|
|
| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
sedulously
|
|
| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
arrogation
|
|
| n.诈称，霸占，篡夺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
23
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
toils
|
|
| 网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
parable
|
|
| n.寓言，比喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
lout
|
|
| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
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： |
|
|
|
|
29
civilisation
|
|
| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
fume
|
|
| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
confidential
|
|
| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
tavern
|
|
| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
limned
|
|
| v.画( limn的过去式和过去分词 )；勾画；描写；描述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
dub
|
|
| vt.（以某种称号）授予，给...起绰号，复制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
Vogue
|
|
| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
forthright
|
|
| adj.直率的，直截了当的 [同]frank | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
memoirs
|
|
| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
hardy
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
gentry
|
|
| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
accomplishments
|
|
| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
immortally
|
|
| 不朽地，永世地，无限地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
patriot
|
|
| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
replica
|
|
| n.复制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
judicial
|
|
| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
bespeaking
|
|
| v.预定( bespeak的现在分词 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
aliases
|
|
| n.别名，化名( alias的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
reverent
|
|
| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
behold
|
|
| v.看，注视，看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
incarnate
|
|
| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
saviour
|
|
| n.拯救者，救星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
babble
|
|
| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
misuse
|
|
| n.误用，滥用；vt.误用，滥用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
solace
|
|
| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
lengthy
|
|
| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
omniscient
|
|
| adj.无所不知的；博识的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
huddle
|
|
| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
amenities
|
|
| n.令人愉快的事物；礼仪；礼节；便利设施；礼仪( amenity的名词复数 )；便利设施；（环境等的）舒适；（性情等的）愉快 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
plentiful
|
|
| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
demonstrations
|
|
| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
tightened
|
|
| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
taut
|
|
| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
acrobat
|
|
| n.特技演员，杂技演员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
resolutely
|
|
| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
amends
|
|
| n. 赔偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
meddle
|
|
| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
struts
|
|
| （框架的）支杆( strut的名词复数 )； 支柱； 趾高气扬的步态； （尤指跳舞或表演时）卖弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
debonair
|
|
| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
conjured
|
|
| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
whoops
|
|
| int.呼喊声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
esteemed
|
|
| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
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： |
|
|
|
|
93
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
idiocy
|
|
| n.愚蠢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
superintendent
|
|
| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
eradicate
|
|
| v.根除，消灭，杜绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
paragon
|
|
| n.模范，典型 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
plod
|
|
| v.沉重缓慢地走，孜孜地工作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
thrift
|
|
| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |