I am glad; now that the mice are nesting in my trunks, and the spiders weaving fresh straps4 round my hold-all, that I have been to Switzerland, that the greasy5 Visitors' books of several West of Ireland hotels hold my name. Also, I remember how very cheerful it was to study a scarlet-hued Bradshaw, and to reflect that, with certain financial restrictions6, the Continent of Europe lay smiling before me. (I remember also, that I lent that entertaining work to an American friend, and found the utmost difficulty in recovering it from him. It was only restored, indeed, on the morning of my departure, and my friend mentioned that he had sat up all night reading it, "Just to see how it ended," he said.)
Between, however, these seasons of satisfaction, there stretches the actual time of holiday, and as I reflect upon it, I am struck by the fact that its more salient features are misfortunes. From a literary point of view this has its advantages; the happy traveller has no history. If the converse8 is true it would need Gibbon or Macaulay to deal with our transit9 from the County Cork10 to that Alpine11 fastness for which we had trustingly, fearlessly labelled our luggage.
It began with fog in the Channel—the Irish Channel—solid, tangible12 fog, through which our bewildered steamer stumbled, uttering large, desolate13 cries of distress14, stopping every now and then to bellow15 like a lost cow, sometimes, even, going astern, while muffled16 hootings told of another wanderer who had drawn17 nearer than was convenient.
"When I heard 'em giving the signal to go astern," said a sailor officer of high degree, next morning, as he gobbled a belated mouthful of breakfast, "I thought it was about time to get up and put on my clothes. Said nothing about it to m' wife, though!"
I wonder if he has realised yet why everyone smiled.
In London, rain; in Paris, blinding heat. Dizzily we staggered round the elder Salon18, and through its innumerable small square rooms, with their lining19 of flagrant canvases; it was like exploring the brain-cells of a fever patient in delirium20. One healing instant was ours, when at the public baths in the Boulevard Mont Parnasse, the waters of a "Bain Complet" closed over the exhausted22 person; but that, even, was speedily poisoned by the discovery that towels and soap, being extras, were not left in the Cabinet de Bain, and the bather, having with dripping hands explored the pocket for the needed coins, had then to tender them to the attendant through a difficult slit23 of doorway24, receiving in exchange a small fragment of slightly scented25 marble and a gauze veil.
After that, the night journey to Geneva. Heat, sardine-like proximity26 of fellow travellers, two dauntless English ladies, who turned the long night into one unending and clanking tea-party; a nightmare interlude of douaniers, then, when a troubled sleep had at length been bestowed27, Geneva; and all the horrors that attend the finish of a long train journey.
At breakfast, at our hotel, a survey of what we had hitherto endured in the pursuit of pleasure stung us to a brief revolt. This was a holiday, we told ourselves, why hurry? Fortified28 by a principle, theoretically unassailable, we strolled about Geneva. It was cold and very wet; still, in our newly realised leisure, we made a point of strolling. On our return to our hotel most of the staff were on the pavement, seemingly very much excited. A voiture, laden29 with our luggage, stood at the door. It appeared that our steamer left for Villeneuve in eight minutes. I imagine that the hotel staff's agitation30 arose from the fear that we should not have time to tip them all. This was, alas31, unfounded.
The driver took us first to the wrong steamer. He then turned his machine too short, and locked the fore7 carriage. Then he shambled across the long bridge to the other steamboat quai, while we sat forward, like the coxswains of racing32 eights, in sweating agony, watching our boat getting up steam and preparing for instant departure.
We caught the boat by springing, like Spurius Lartius and Herminius, across the widening chasm33 between her deck and the shore, and therewith fell into a species of syncope. Mists shrouded34 the mountains; a chilled rain swept the lake. For our parts, slowly recovering, we kept the cabin, and swept the tea-table. It was almost our first moment of enjoyment.
The Alpine fastness, already alluded35 to, was not gained for a further couple of days, during which an awakening36 distaste for Switzerland slowly grew in us, though it did not thoroughly37 mature till mellowed38 by a mule39 ride up a mountain. Reticence40 in narration41 is a quality that I endeavour to cultivate. It becomes a necessity in treating of the village and its surrounding slums from and through which our start was made. Having, in a state nearing starvation, been offered the sole refreshment42 available, namely, concentrated essence of typhoid in the guise43 of glasses of milk, and having retained sufficient self-control to refuse them, we started on mule-back for the mountain. Traversing, as I have every reason to believe, the open main drain of the village, our animals proceeded to totter44 up a narrow and precipitous watercourse.
"La voie la plus directe," explained the mule-driver, lashing45 his ancient cattle in a general way, and without animosity.
The cloud that accompanied our wanderings, as in the case of the Israelites, did not fail of its usual office. Even through the crown of a Panama straw hat the rain attained46 to my skin. Thence it descended47, enveloping48 me, as it were an inner garment. Twice my mule fell down. I could not reproach it. Indeed, nothing but the fact that one of its parents had been an ass21 explained its readiness to pick itself up and go on again. It had, however, an incentive49, supplied in the rear by its proprietor50; we had naught51 save the fetish of Holiday to goad52 us onward53, and its potency54 was beginning to weaken.
One week of the mountain hotel was as much as we were able to endure. The usual "exceptional" weather prevailed. How familiar is the formula, and how entirely55 unworthy of credence56!
"For seventeen years"—the Landlord calls heaven to witness—"it has never been so wet, or so cold, or so stormy at this time. If Monsieur or Madame, had come but three weeks ago—or would wait but three days longer——"
There was a time when the glamour57 of holiday might have induced belief, might even have beguiled58 a further endurance of the age-long table-d'h?te repasts, of the aggressive muscularity of the English schoolmaster, who, during the progress of the ménu from the watery59 soup to the acrid60 Alpine strawberry, faced us, boasting at large and in detail; of the German bride, who practised the piano for four hours daily (her head upon her bridegroom's shoulder, his faithful arm round her waist). These things, though unattractive in themselves, might once have been submitted to as elements of the theoretical holiday (in Switzerland), as mere61 inevitable62 crumples63 in the rose-leaf.
But, on this occasion—it is possibly one of the compensations of advancing years—we found ourselves endowed with a juster sense of proportion. The close of the eighth day saw us heading for home with a speed that almost amounted to rout64. The mule-driver's maxim65, "la voie la plus directe" seemed good common sense; we drew neither breath nor bridle66, Geneva, Paris, London were but names in the night, till we found ourselves facing America from the front doorstep of a certain remote hostelry in the far west of Connaught.
FACING AMERICA
FACING AMERICA
Then, and not till then, did something of the largeness, the leisure, the absurdity67, the unconventionality, that should enter into all true holiday, begin for us.
I have said hostelry, and undoubtedly68 the words "Seaview Hotel," in letters large and green, were inscribed69 upon its pink-washed walls, but without this clue I do not think the closest observer would be able to detect its walk in life. It had but one storey; a dark and narrow passage led from the entrance to the kitchen, and therein, at (as subsequent experience showed us) any time of the day or night, the entire establishment might be found, massed, talking as though they had not met for years, and were to separate in an hour.
Thus we, led by our carman, an habitué of the house, found them, and thus, with but brief intervals71, they continued during the period we spent among them.
"What is it, Mike?" this to the car-driver from a very stout72 lady, whom we rightly assumed to be the proprietress. "Oh—the sitting-room73," she exhibited a natural annoyance74, having been interrupted in a pronouncement on, I gathered, the feeding of pigs. "Here! Mary Kate, show the sitting-room!" She re-addressed herself to her subject.
Mary Kate, a charming slattern with a profusion75 of fair hair, "showed" the sitting-room. It was small, but not unclean, and, in addition to the normal outfit76 of table and chairs, was remarkably77 equipped with a large double perambulator, whose use as a sideboard was sufficiently78 indicated by the fact that a cruet stand and a loaf of bread occupied one seat, while a piece of cold beef reclined on the other. The bedrooms, if I may quote a French guide-book's remarks upon the retreat of a hermit79, "excited I know not what emotions of religious terror;" emotions that were not allayed80 by the suspicion, that deepened to certainty, that, in the absence of visitors, they were occupied by the staff.
"Hot wather? O cerr*tainly!" said Mary Kate, kindly81. "Beg your pardon—" she crushed past me to the chimney-piece, and proceeded to grope behind photograph frames and a crowded multitude of glass and china, *objets d'art. "I left me hat pins—" here she giggled82 confidentially83, while, so intimate was the arrangement of the objets d'art, that several of them fell off at the farther end of the chimney piece. "Ah! what matther! Sure they're all a little broke!" said Mary Kate, wedging them into their places again, and thrusting the recovered hat pins into her redundant84 locks. "Ye'll be wanting somethin' to eat now, I daresay," she went on, "I'll send granne'ma in to ye."
A brief interval70 ensued, during which we furtively85 examined the bedclothes, and indulged in disturbed conjecture86 as to the substance that stuffed the pillows. Their smell, though curious, offered no basis for theory.
There came a creeping sound without, and low down, a panel of the door was dealt a single blow.
I said "Come in!" not without a slight recurrence87 of religious terror.
A very little and ancient woman stood there, with the trade marks of soot88 and grease thick upon her. When she curtseyed she seemed to merge89 in the door mat, so small was she and so dingy90.
There was reassurance91 in the discovery that she seemed as much in awe92 of us as we of her.
"How would I know what the likes o' ye would fancy?" she said, almost with despair, and went on to hope that our visit might prove an education into the ways of the aristocracy of which she had long stood in need, but she coupled the admission with a warning that she "was very owld and very dull."
It was a high responsibility, this position of exponents93 of an unknown type, and it is much to be regretted that we were forced to leave our venerable disciple94 under the impression that the upper classes usually cook their own food at hotels. It should here be said that this expedition had not been entered upon without a certain foreknowledge of what it was likely to involve, and amongst other precautions were provisions of a portable sort. These included sausages, and the sausages we confided95 to our old lady.
We sat in the parlour enjoying the appetite for dinner that is one of the bright features of a genuine holiday. After a delay of about half an hour, Mary Kate's head was thrust through a narrow opening of the door.
"Granne'ma says will the little puddings be split?"
Had the answer been Yes, and that it was usual to serve them with cream and sugar, I feel sure that grandmamma would have complied. As it was, after instructions to Mary Kate, of a lucidity96 unrivalled by Mrs. Beeton, the sausages appeared, pale, tepid97, raw, in a pie-dish, just a-wash with luke-warm water.
The holiday appetite quailed98 at the sight, and the chef was summoned from the conversazione still raging in the kitchen. A single glance at the guests told her of failure, and, with a masterly grasp of the position, she hurried back to the kitchen and returned with the frying-pan.
"Keep it now yersels," she said. "Didn't I say to ye I was too owld?"
From that time the parlour grate led a sullied life, but—which may have consoled it—a thoroughly useful one. We re-cooked the sausages upon it; the perambulator yielded its increase, toast, grilled99 beef, sausages, who could reasonably ask for more?
We spent two days and two nights there; days of perfect weather, spent in exploring a coast as wild and beautiful as the heart of holiday maker100 could desire, nights strangely, almost desolately101 devoid102 of the entomological excursions and pursuits usual to village inns, and, in spite of the peculiarities103 of the pillows, sleep was not difficult. Or rather, in candour it should be said, was difficult only after the rising of the sun. For with the dawn, a vagrant104 population was astir in the village; a street Arab community of hens, dogs, geese and donkeys, incessant105 and clarion-toned in their addresses to morn and to each other; creatures who slept under carts and in stray corners; who treated life as a lounge, and regarded their owners as suzerains merely, to whom occasional allegiance was to be rendered, or a tributary106 egg or two laid in an inaccessible107 place.
On the whole, the donkeys are those of whom I can speak least temperately108. They had, for want, possibly, of other employment, adopted the position of town-criers to the village, or perhaps were its prophets, perhaps its Cassandras, and they uplifted their testimony109 from sunrise till nightfall with a poignancy110 that rent the very skies. Standing111 one evening on one of the low hills that hemmed112 the village into its corner by the sea, I counted easily, and with half a glance, four of these enthusiasts113, planted each on a commanding rock or mound114, and sending his wild voice abroad over the valley. It was a sunny evening, after a day of sad and opalescent115 beauty, and the sea had brightened into blue and silver; the white-washed gables and a far white lighthouse were radiant with recovered cheerfulness, but the jackasses were as despairful and implacable as Jeremiah.
There was but one disaster during our brief sojourn116 at the Sea View Hotel. A few sausages and a tin of sardines117 remained, "spared," as Mary Kate said, from the first repast. These she proposed to store, for safety and coolness, in one of our bedrooms. The idea not being well received, she finally deposited them in the Post Office, which was attached to the hotel. But even this hiding place was not improbable enough to hoodwink that skilled tactician118, the hotel cat, and he, in some dark hour of the night, found and feasted on them with, no doubt, all the ravishing joy of a new experience.
IN WEST CARBERY
IN WEST CARBERY
We could not but sympathise with him. Thanks to the Sea View Hotel that subtle joy was also ours.
I began by saying that of the Summer holidays the times of anticipation and of retrospect were the times of truest pleasure. Yet I can remember long September days beside a sea of Mediterranean119 blue, the sea of Southern Ireland, when the perfect present asked nothing of either past or future. The long creek120 wound, blue-green as a peacock's breast, between deep woods. High places of rock and heather were there, where you could lie, "ringed with the azure121 world," and see the huge liners, yes, and hear them too, as they went throbbing122 and trampling123 along the sun's path westward124.
Those who know this place of holiday are comparatively few, but there is at least one distinguished125 name of the company—Dean Swift, no less. A couple of hundred years or so ago, he spent a summer in West Carbery, (an ivy-covered ruin, known as Swift's Tower, testifies to the fact,) and he forthwith made a poem about it, a Latin poem, addressed to the Rocks of Carbery.
One gathers that it was of the nature of an encomium126, though the points selected for description are not those that would tempt127 the effete128 holiday maker of to-day. Possibly it was the Dean's majestic129 eighteenth-century manner of thanking his host for "a very pleasant visit." I came upon it in the house of a descendant of that host, reverently130 quoted in a copy of Dr. Smith's history of the County Cork, dated 1749. Thanks to the sympathetic scholarship of a contemporary divine, the Revd. Dr. Donkin, who made a translation of it, I am able to give some quotations131 from it. Dr. Smith thinks that "the Dean's descriptions are as just as his numbers are beautiful." It is not for me to disagree with him. Let them—or some of them—dignify these unworthy pages.
"Lo! From the top of yonder cliff, that shrouds132
Its airy head amidst the azure clouds,
Hangs the huge fragment, destitute133 of props134,
Prone135 on the waves the rocky ruin drops.
* * * * *
Oft too with hideous136 yawn, the cavern137 wide
Presents an orifice on either side;
A dismal138 orifice, from sea to sea
Extended, pervious to the god of day.
* * * * *
High on the cliff their nests wild pigeons make,
And sea calves139 stable in the oozey lake ...
When o'er the craggy steep without controul,
Big with the blast, the raging billows roll, ...
The neighbouring race, tho' wont140 to brave the shocks
Of angry seas and run along the rocks,
Now pale with terror, while the ocean foams141,
Fly far and wide, nor trust their native homes.
The goats, while pendant from the mountain top,
The wither'd herb improvident142 they crop,
Wash'd down the precipice143 with sudden sweep,
Leave their sweet lives beneath th' unfathomed deep."
I am sorry to say that in these degenerate144 times the improvident goat has lost his ancient skill and is no longer pendant, and the oozey lake and stabling sea calf145 (the latter possibly a lingering survivor146 of the Deluge) may no more be found. None the less, I can confidently commend the scenes of these catastrophes147 to the holiday maker of to-day.
Even now, when the sunshine of last September has faded to a memory, and that of next September is too far away to be even a hope, I can still feel the soft lift of the western wind, still hear the booming of the waves in the deep and riven heart of the cliff.
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1
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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retrospect
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| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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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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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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narration
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| n.讲述，叙述；故事；记叙体 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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totter
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| v.蹒跚， 摇摇欲坠；n.蹒跚的步子 | |
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lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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potency
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| n. 效力，潜能 | |
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55
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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56
credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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57
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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58
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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59
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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60
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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61
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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62
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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63
crumples
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| 压皱，弄皱( crumple的第三人称单数 )； 变皱 | |
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64
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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65
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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66
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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67
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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68
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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69
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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70
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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71
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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73
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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74
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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75
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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76
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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77
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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78
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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79
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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80
allayed
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| v.减轻，缓和( allay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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82
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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84
redundant
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| adj.多余的，过剩的；(食物)丰富的；被解雇的 | |
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85
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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86
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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87
recurrence
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| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
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88
soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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89
merge
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| v.(使)结合，(使)合并，(使)合为一体 | |
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90
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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91
reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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92
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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exponents
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| n.倡导者( exponent的名词复数 )；说明者；指数；能手 | |
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94
disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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95
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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96
lucidity
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| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
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97
tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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98
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
grilled
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| adj. 烤的, 炙过的, 有格子的 动词grill的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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100
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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101
desolately
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| 荒凉地，寂寞地 | |
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102
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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103
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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104
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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105
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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106
tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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107
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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108
temperately
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| adv.节制地，适度地 | |
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109
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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110
poignancy
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| n.辛酸事，尖锐 | |
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111
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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112
hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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113
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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114
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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115
opalescent
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| adj.乳色的，乳白的 | |
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116
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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117
sardines
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| n. 沙丁鱼 | |
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118
tactician
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| n. 战术家, 策士 | |
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119
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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120
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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121
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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122
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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123
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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124
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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125
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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126
encomium
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| n.赞颂；颂词 | |
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127
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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128
effete
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| adj.无生产力的，虚弱的 | |
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129
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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130
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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131
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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132
shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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133
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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134
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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135
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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136
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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137
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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138
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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139
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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140
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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141
foams
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| n.泡沫，泡沫材料( foam的名词复数 ) | |
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142
improvident
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| adj.不顾将来的，不节俭的，无远见的 | |
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143
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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144
degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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145
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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146
survivor
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| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
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147
catastrophes
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| n.灾祸( catastrophe的名词复数 )；灾难；不幸事件；困难 | |
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