Wintry morning, looking with dull eyes and sallow face upon theneighbourhood of Leicester Square, finds its inhabitants unwillingto get out of bed. Many of them are not early risers at thebrightest of times, being birds of night who roost when the sun ishigh and are wide awake and keen for prey1 when the stars shine out.
Behind dingy2 blind and curtain, in upper story and garret, skulkingmore or less under false names, false hair, false titles, falsejewellery, and false histories, a colony of brigands3 lie in theirfirst sleep. Gentlemen of the green-baize road who could discoursefrom personal experience of foreign galleys4 and home treadmills;spies of strong governments that eternally quake with weakness andmiserable fear, broken traitors5, cowards, bullies6, gamesters,shufflers, swindlers, and false witnesses; some not unmarked by thebranding-iron beneath their dirty braid; all with more cruelty inthem than was in Nero, and more crime than is in Newgate. Forhowsoever bad the devil can be in fustian7 or smock-frock (and hecan be very bad in both), he is a more designing, callous8, andintolerable devil when he sticks a pin in his shirt-front, callshimself a gentleman, backs a card or colour, plays a game or so ofbilliards, and knows a little about bills and promissory notes thanin any other form he wears. And in such form Mr. Bucket shall findhim, when he will, still pervading9 the tributary10 channels ofLeicester Square.
But the wintry morning wants him not and wakes him not. It wakesMr. George of the shooting gallery and his familiar. They arise,roll up and stow away their mattresses11. Mr. George, having shavedhimself before a looking-glass of minute proportions, then marchesout, bare-headed and bare-chested, to the pump in the little yardand anon comes back shining with yellow soap, friction12, driftingrain, and exceedingly cold water. As he rubs himself upon a largejack-towel, blowing like a military sort of diver just come up, hishair curling tighter and tighter on his sunburnt temples the morehe rubs it so that it looks as if it never could be loosened by anyless coercive instrument than an iron rake or a curry-comb--as herubs, and puffs13, and polishes, and blows, turning his head fromside to side the more conveniently to excoriate14 his throat, andstanding with his body well bent16 forward to keep the wet from hismartial legs, Phil, on his knees lighting17 a fire, looks round as ifit were enough washing for him to see all that done, and sufficientrenovation for one day to take in the superfluous18 health his masterthrows off.
When Mr. George is dry, he goes to work to brush his head with twohard brushes at once, to that unmerciful degree that Phil,shouldering his way round the gallery in the act of sweeping19 it,winks with sympathy. This chafing20 over, the ornamental21 part of Mr.
George's toilet is soon performed. He fills his pipe, lights it,and marches up and down smoking, as his custom is, while Phil,raising a powerful odour of hot rolls and coffee, preparesbreakfast. He smokes gravely and marches in slow time. Perhapsthis morning's pipe is devoted22 to the memory of Gridley in hisgrave.
"And so, Phil," says George of the shooting gallery after severalturns in silence, "you were dreaming of the country last night?"Phil, by the by, said as much in a tone of surprise as he scrambledout of bed.
"Yes, guv'ner.""What was it like?""I hardly know what it was like, guv'ner," said Phil, considering.
"How did you know it was the country?""On account of the grass, I think. And the swans upon it," saysPhil after further consideration.
"What were the swans doing on the grass?""They was a-eating of it, I expect," says Phil.
The master resumes his march, and the man resumes his preparationof breakfast. It is not necessarily a lengthened23 preparation,being limited to the setting forth24 of very simple breakfastrequisites for two and the broiling25 of a rasher of bacon at thefire in the rusty26 grate; but as Phil has to sidle round aconsiderable part of the gallery for every object he wants, andnever brings two objects at once, it takes time under thecircumstances. At length the breakfast is ready. Phil announcingit, Mr. George knocks the ashes out of his pipe on the hob, standshis pipe itself in the chimney corner, and sits down to the meal.
When he has helped himself, Phil follows suit, sitting at theextreme end of the little oblong table and taking his plate on hisknees. Either in humility27, or to hide his blackened hands, orbecause it is his natural manner of eating.
"The country," says Mr. George, plying28 his knife and fork; "why, Isuppose you never clapped your eyes on the country, Phil?""I see the marshes29 once," says Phil, contentedly30 eating hisbreakfast.
"What marshes?""THE marshes, commander," returns Phil.
"Where are they?""I don't know where they are," says Phil; "but I see 'em, guv'ner.
They was flat. And miste."Governor and commander are interchangeable terms with Phil,expressive31 of the same respect and deference32 and applicable tonobody but Mr. George.
"I was born in the country, Phil.""Was you indeed, commander?""Yes. And bred there."Phil elevates his one eyebrow33, and after respectfully staring athis master to express interest, swallows a great gulp34 of coffee,still staring at him.
"There's not a bird's note that I don't know," says Mr. George.
"Not many an English leaf or berry that I couldn't name. Not manya tree that I couldn't climb yet if I was put to it. I was a realcountry boy, once. My good mother lived in the country.""She must have been a fine old lady, guv'ner," Phil observes.
"Aye! And not so old either, five and thirty years ago," says Mr.
George. "But I'll wager35 that at ninety she would be near asupright as me, and near as broad across the shoulders.""Did she die at ninety, guv'ner?" inquires Phil.
"No. Bosh! Let her rest in peace, God bless her!" says thetrooper. "What set me on about country boys, and runaways36, andgood-for-nothings? You, to be sure! So you never clapped youreyes upon the country--marshes and dreams excepted. Eh?"Phil shakes his head.
"Do you want to see it?""N-no, I don't know as I do, particular," says Phil.
"The town's enough for you, eh?""Why, you see, commander," says Phil, "I ain't acquainted withanythink else, and I doubt if I ain't a-getting too old to take tonovelties.""How old ARE you, Phil?" asks the trooper, pausing as he conveyshis smoking saucer to his lips.
"I'm something with a eight in it," says Phil. "It can't beeighty. Nor yet eighteen. It's betwixt 'em, somewheres."Mr. George, slowly putting down his saucer without tasting itscontents, is laughingly beginning, "Why, what the deuce, Phil--"when he stops, seeing that Phil is counting on his dirty fingers.
"I was just eight," says Phil, "agreeable to the parishcalculation, when I went with the tinker. I was sent on a errand,and I see him a-sittin under a old buildin with a fire all tohimself wery comfortable, and he says, 'Would you like to comealong a me, my man?' I says 'Yes,' and him and me and the firegoes home to Clerkenwell together. That was April Fool Day. I wasable to count up to ten; and when April Fool Day come round again,I says to myself, 'Now, old chap, you're one and a eight in it.'
April Fool Day after that, I says, 'Now, old chap, you're two and aeight in it.' In course of time, I come to ten and a eight in it;two tens and a eight in it. When it got so high, it got the upperhand of me, but this is how I always know there's a eight in it.""Ah!" says Mr. George, resuming his breakfast. "And where's thetinker?""Drink put him in the hospital, guv'ner, and the hospital put him--in a glass-case, I HAVE heerd," Phil replies mysteriously.
"By that means you got promotion37? Took the business, Phil?""Yes, commander, I took the business. Such as it was. It wasn'tmuch of a beat--round Saffron Hill, Hatton Garden, Clerkenwell,Smiffeld, and there--poor neighbourhood, where they uses up thekettles till they're past mending. Most of the tramping tinkersused to come and lodge38 at our place; that was the best part of mymaster's earnings39. But they didn't come to me. I warn't like him.
He could sing 'em a good song. I couldn't! He could play 'em atune on any sort of pot you please, so as it was iron or block tin.
I never could do nothing with a pot but mend it or bile it--neverhad a note of music in me. Besides, I was too ill-looking, andtheir wives complained of me.""They were mighty40 particular. You would pass muster41 in a crowd,Phil!" says the trooper with a pleasant smile.
"No, guv'ner," returns Phil, shaking his head. "No, I shouldn't.
I was passable enough when I went with the tinker, though nothingto boast of then; but what with blowing the fire with my mouth whenI was young, and spileing my complexion42, and singeing43 my hair off,and swallering the smoke, and what with being nat'rally unfort'natein the way of running against hot metal and marking myself by sichmeans, and what with having turn-ups with the tinker as I gotolder, almost whenever he was too far gone in drink--which wasalmost always--my beauty was queer, wery queer, even at that time.
As to since, what with a dozen years in a dark forge where the menwas given to larking44, and what with being scorched45 in a accident ata gas-works, and what with being blowed out of winder case-fillingat the firework business, I am ugly enough to be made a show on!"Resigning himself to which condition with a perfectly46 satisfiedmanner, Phil begs the favour of another cup of coffee. Whiledrinking it, he says, "It was after the case-filling blow-up when Ifirst see you, commander. You remember?""I remember, Phil. You were walking along in the sun.""Crawling, guv'ner, again a wall--""True, Phil--shouldering your way on--""In a night-cap!" exclaims Phil, excited.
"In a night-cap--""And hobbling with a couple of sticks!" cries Phil, still moreexcited.
"With a couple of sticks. When--""When you stops, you know," cries Phil, putting down his cup andsaucer and hastily removing his plate from his knees, "and says tome, 'What, comrade! You have been in the wars!' I didn't say muchto you, commander, then, for I was took by surprise that a personso strong and healthy and bold as you was should stop to speak tosuch a limping bag of bones as I was. But you says to me, saysyou, delivering it out of your chest as hearty47 as possible, so thatit was like a glass of something hot, 'What accident have you metwith? You have been badly hurt. What's amiss, old boy? Cheer up,and tell us about it!' Cheer up! I was cheered already! I saysas much to you, you says more to me, I says more to you, you saysmore to me, and here I am, commander! Here I am, commander!" criesPhil, who has started from his chair and unaccountably begun tosidle away. "If a mark's wanted, or if it will improve thebusiness, let the customers take aim at me. They can't spoil MYbeauty. I'M all right. Come on! If they want a man to box at,let 'em box at me. Let 'em knock me well about the head. I don'tmind. If they want a light-weight to be throwed for practice,Cornwall, Devonshire, or Lancashire, let 'em throw me. They won'thurt ME. I have been throwed, all sorts of styles, all my life!"With this unexpected speech, energetically delivered andaccompanied by action illustrative of the various exercisesreferred to, Phil Squod shoulders his way round three sides of thegallery, and abruptly48 tacking49 off at his commander, makes a butt50 athim with his head, intended to express devotion to his service. Hethen begins to clear away the breakfast.
Mr. George, after laughing cheerfully and clapping him on theshoulder, assists in these arrangements and helps to get thegallery into business order. That done, he takes a turn at thedumb-bells, and afterwards weighing himself and opining that he isgetting "too fleshy," engages with great gravity in solitarybroadsword practice. Meanwhile Phil has fallen to work at hisusual table, where he screws and unscrews, and cleans, and files,and whistles into small apertures51, and blackens himself more andmore, and seems to do and undo52 everything that can be done andundone about a gun.
Master and man are at length disturbed by footsteps in the passage,where they make an unusual sound, denoting the arrival of unusualcompany. These steps, advancing nearer and nearer to the gallery,bring into it a group at first sight scarcely reconcilable with anyday in the year but the fifth of November.
It consists of a limp and ugly figure carried in a chair by twobearers and attended by a lean female with a face like a pinchedmask, who might be expected immediately to recite the popularverses commemorative of the time when they did contrive53 to blow OldEngland up alive but for her keeping her lips tightly and defiantlyclosed as the chair is put down. At which point the figure in itgasping, "O Lord! Oh, dear me! I am shaken!" adds, "How de do, mydear friend, how de do?" Mr. George then descries54, in theprocession, the venerable Mr. Smallweed out for an airing, attendedby his granddaughter Judy as body-guard.
"Mr. George, my dear friend," says Grandfather Smallweed, removinghis right arm from the neck of one of his bearers, whom he hasnearly throttled55 coming along, "how de do? You're surprised to seeme, my dear friend.""I should hardly have been more surprised to have seen your friendin the city," returns Mr. George.
"I am very seldom out," pants Mr. Smallweed. "I haven't been outfor many months. It's inconvenient--and it comes expensive. But Ilonged so much to see you, my dear Mr. George. How de do, sir?""I am well enough," says Mr. George. "I hope you are the same.""You can't be too well, my dear friend." Mr. Smallweed takes himby both hands. "I have brought my granddaughter Judy. I couldn'tkeep her away. She longed so much to see you.""Hum! She hears it calmly!" mutters Mr. George.
"So we got a hackney-cab, and put a chair in it, and just round thecorner they lifted me out of the cab and into the chair, andcarried me here that I might see my dear friend in his ownestablishment! This," says Grandfather Smallweed, alluding56 to thebearer, who has been in danger of strangulation and who withdrawsadjusting his windpipe, "is the driver of the cab. He has nothingextra. It is by agreement included in his fare. This person," theother bearer, "we engaged in the street outside for a pint57 of beer.
Which is twopence. Judy, give the person twopence. I was not sureyou had a workman of your own here, my dear friend, or we needn'thave employed this person."Grandfather Smallweed refers to Phil with a glance of considerableterror and a half-subdued "O Lord! Oh, dear me!" Nor in hisapprehension, on the surface of things, without some reason, forPhil, who has never beheld58 the apparition59 in the black-velvet60 capbefore, has stopped short with a gun in his hand with much of theair of a dead shot intent on picking Mr. Smallweed off as an uglyold bird of the crow species.
"Judy, my child," says Grandfather Smallweed, "give the person histwopence. It's a great deal for what he has done."The person, who is one of those extraordinary specimens61 of humanfungus that spring up spontaneously in the western streets ofLondon, ready dressed in an old red jacket, with a "mission" forholding horses and calling coaches, received his twopence withanything but transport, tosses the money into the air, catches itover-handed, and retires.
"My dear Mr. George," says Grandfather Smallweed, "would you be sokind as help to carry me to the fire? I am accustomed to a fire,and I am an old man, and I soon chill. Oh, dear me!"His closing exclamation62 is jerked out of the venerable gentleman bythe suddenness with which Mr. Squod, like a genie63, catches him up,chair and all, and deposits him on the hearth-stone.
"O Lord!" says Mr. Smallweed, panting. "Oh, dear me! Oh, mystars! My dear friend, your workman is very strong--and veryprompt. O Lord, he is very prompt! Judy, draw me back a little.
I'm being scorched in the legs," which indeed is testified to thenoses of all present by the smell of his worsted stockings.
The gentle Judy, having backed her grandfather a little way fromthe fire, and having shaken him up as usual, and having releasedhis overshadowed eye from its black-velvet extinguisher, Mr.
Smallweed again says, "Oh, dear me! O Lord!" and looking about andmeeting Mr. George's glance, again stretches out both hands.
"My dear friend! So happy in this meeting! And this is yourestablishment? It's a delightful64 place. It's a picture! Younever find that anything goes off here accidentally, do you, mydear friend?" adds Grandfather Smallweed, very ill at ease.
"No, no. No fear of that.""And your workman. He--Oh, dear me!--he never lets anything offwithout meaning it, does he, my dear friend?""He has never hurt anybody but himself," says Mr. George, smiling.
"But he might, you know. He seems to have hurt himself a gooddeal, and he might hurt somebody else," the old gentleman returns.
"He mightn't mean it--or he even might. Mr. George, will you orderhim to leave his infernal firearms alone and go away?"Obedient to a nod from the trooper, Phil retires, empty-handed, tothe other end of the gallery. Mr. Smallweed, reassured65, falls torubbing his legs.
"And you're doing well, Mr. George?" he says to the trooper,squarely standing15 faced about towards him with his broadsword inhis hand. "You are prospering66, please the Powers?"Mr. George answers with a cool nod, adding, "Go on. You have notcome to say that, I know.""You are so sprightly67, Mr. George," returns the venerablegrandfather. "You are such good company.""Ha ha! Go on!" says Mr. George.
"My dear friend! But that sword looks awful gleaming and sharp.
It might cut somebody, by accident. It makes me shiver, Mr.
George. Curse him!" says the excellent old gentleman apart to Judyas the trooper takes a step or two away to lay it aside. "He owesme money, and might think of paying off old scores in thismurdering place. I wish your brimstone grandmother was here, andhe'd shave her head off."Mr. George, returning, folds his arms, and looking down at the oldman, sliding every moment lower and lower in his chair, saysquietly, "Now for it!""Ho!" cries Mr. Smallweed, rubbing his hands with an artfulchuckle. "Yes. Now for it. Now for what, my dear friend?""For a pipe," says Mr. George, who with great composure sets hischair in the chimney-corner, takes his pipe from the grate, fillsit and lights it, and falls to smoking peacefully.
This tends to the discomfiture68 of Mr. Smallweed, who finds it sodifficult to resume his object, whatever it may be, that he becomesexasperated and secretly claws the air with an impotentvindictiveness expressive of an intense desire to tear and rend69 thevisage of Mr. George. As the excellent old gentleman's nails arelong and leaden, and his hands lean and veinous, and his eyes greenand watery70; and, over and above this, as he continues, while heclaws, to slide down in his chair and to collapse71 into a shapelessbundle, he becomes such a ghastly spectacle, even in the accustomedeyes of Judy, that that young virgin72 pounces73 at him with somethingmore than the ardour of affection and so shakes him up and pats andpokes him in divers76 parts of his body, but particularly in thatpart which the science of self-defence would call his wind, that inhis grievous distress77 he utters enforced sounds like a paviour'srammer.
When Judy has by these means set him up again in his chair, with awhite face and a frosty nose (but still clawing), she stretches outher weazen forefinger78 and gives Mr. George one poke75 in the back.
The trooper raising his head, she makes another poke at heresteemed grandfather, and having thus brought them together, staresrigidly at the fire.
"Aye, aye! Ho, ho! U--u--u--ugh!" chatters79 Grandfather Smallweed,swallowing his rage. "My dear friend!" (still clawing).
"I tell you what," says Mr. George. "If you want to converse80 withme, you must speak out. I am one of the roughs, and I can't goabout and about. I haven't the art to do it. I am not cleverenough. It don't suit me. When you go winding81 round and roundme," says the trooper, putting his pipe between his lips again,"damme, if I don't feel as if I was being smothered82!"And he inflates83 his broad chest to its utmost extent as if toassure himself that he is not smothered yet.
"If you have come to give me a friendly call," continues Mr.
George, "I am obliged to you; how are you? If you have come to seewhether there's any property on the premises84, look about you; youare welcome. If you want to out with something, out with it!"The blooming Judy, without removing her gaze from the fire, givesher grandfather one ghostly poke.
"You see! It's her opinion too. And why the devil that youngwoman won't sit down like a Christian," says Mr. George with hiseyes musingly85 fixed86 on Judy, "I can't comprehend.""She keeps at my side to attend to me, sir," says GrandfatherSmallweed. "I am an old man, my dear Mr. George, and I need someattention. I can carry my years; I am not a brimstone poll-parrot"(snarling and looking unconsciously for the cushion), "but I needattention, my dear friend.""Well!" returns the trooper, wheeling his chair to face the oldman. "Now then?""My friend in the city, Mr. George, has done a little business witha pupil of yours.""Has he?" says Mr. George. "I am sorry to hear it.""Yes, sir." Grandfather Smallweed rubs his legs. "He is a fineyoung soldier now, Mr. George, by the name of Carstone. Friendscame forward and paid it all up, honourable87.""Did they?" returns Mr. George. "Do you think your friend in thecity would like a piece of advice?""I think he would, my dear friend. From you.""I advise him, then, to do no more business in that quarter.
There's no more to be got by it. The young gentleman, to myknowledge, is brought to a dead halt.""No, no, my dear friend. No, no, Mr. George. No, no, no, sir,"remonstrates Grandfather Smallweed, cunningly rubbing his sparelegs. "Not quite a dead halt, I think. He has good friends, andhe is good for his pay, and he is good for the selling price of hiscommission, and he is good for his chance in a lawsuit88, and he isgood for his chance in a wife, and--oh, do you know, Mr. George, Ithink my friend would consider the young gentleman good forsomething yet?" says Grandfather Smallweed, turning up his velvetcap and scratching his ear like a monkey.
Mr. George, who has put aside his pipe and sits with an arm on hischair-back, beats a tattoo89 on the ground with his right foot as ifhe were not particularly pleased with the turn the conversation hastaken.
"But to pass from one subject to another," resumes Mr. Smallweed.
"'To promote the conversation, as a joker might say. To pass, Mr.
George, from the ensign to the captain.""What are you up to, now?" asks Mr. George, pausing with a frown instroking the recollection of his moustache. "What captain?""Our captain. The captain we know of. Captain Hawdon.""Oh! That's it, is it?" says Mr. George with a low whistle as hesees both grandfather and granddaughter looking hard at him. "Youare there! Well? What about it? Come, I won't be smothered anymore. Speak!""My dear friend," returns the old man, "I was applied90--Judy, shakeme up a little!--I was applied to yesterday about the captain, andmy opinion still is that the captain is not dead.""Bosh!" observes Mr. George.
"What was your remark, my dear friend?" inquires the old man withhis hand to his ear.
"Bosh!""Ho!" says Grandfather Smallweed. "Mr. George, of my opinion youcan judge for yourself according to the questions asked of me andthe reasons given for asking 'em. Now, what do you think thelawyer making the inquiries91 wants?""A job," says Mr. George.
"Nothing of the kind!""Can't be a lawyer, then," says Mr. George, folding his arms withan air of confirmed resolution.
"My dear friend, he is a lawyer, and a famous one. He wants to seesome fragment in Captain Hawdon's writing. He don't want to keepit. He only wants to see it and compare it with a writing in hispossession.""Well?""Well, Mr. George. Happening to remember the advertisementconcerning Captain Hawdon and any information that could be givenrespecting him, he looked it up and came to me--just as you did, mydear friend. WILL you shake hands? So glad you came that day! Ishould have missed forming such a friendship if you hadn't come!""Well, Mr. Smallweed?" says Mr. George again after going throughthe ceremony with some stiffness.
"I had no such thing. I have nothing but his signature. Plaguepestilence and famine, battle murder and sudden death upon him,"says the old man, making a curse out of one of his few remembrancesof a prayer and squeezing up his velvet cap between his angryhands, "I have half a million of his signatures, I think! Butyou," breathlessly recovering his mildness of speech as Judy re-adjusts the cap on his skittle-ball of a head, "you, my dear Mr.
George, are likely to have some letter or paper that would suit thepurpose. Anything would suit the purpose, written in the hand.""Some writing in that hand," says the trooper, pondering; "may be,I have.""My dearest friend!""May be, I have not.""Ho!" says Grandfather Smallweed, crest-fallen.
"But if I had bushels of it, I would not show as much as would makea cartridge92 without knowing why.""Sir, I have told you why. My dear Mr. George, I have told youwhy.""Not enough," says the trooper, shaking his head. "I must knowmore, and approve it.""Then, will you come to the lawyer? My dear friend, will you comeand see the gentleman?" urges Grandfather Smallweed, pulling out alean old silver watch with hands like the leg of a skeleton. "Itold him it was probable I might call upon him between ten andeleven this forenoon, and it's now half after ten. Will you comeand see the gentleman, Mr. George?""Hum!" says he gravely. "I don't mind that. Though why thisshould concern you so much, I don't know.""Everything concerns me that has a chance in it of bringinganything to light about him. Didn't he take us all in? Didn't heowe us immense sums, all round? Concern me? Who can anythingabout him concern more than me? Not, my dear friend," saysGrandfather Smallweed, lowering his tone, "that I want YOU tobetray anything. Far from it. Are you ready to come, my dearfriend?""Aye! I'll come in a moment. I promise nothing, you know.""No, my dear Mr. George; no.""And you mean to say you're going to give me a lift to this place,wherever it is, without charging for it?" Mr. George inquires,getting his hat and thick wash-leather gloves.
This pleasantry so tickles93 Mr. Smallweed that he laughs, long andlow, before the fire. But ever while he laughs, he glances overhis paralytic94 shoulder at Mr. George and eagerly watches him as heunlocks the padlock of a homely95 cupboard at the distant end of thegallery, looks here and there upon the higher shelves, andultimately takes something out with a rustling96 of paper, folds it,and puts it in his breast. Then Judy pokes74 Mr. Smallweed once, andMr. Smallweed pokes Judy once.
"I am ready," says the trooper, coming back. "Phil, you can carrythis old gentleman to his coach, and make nothing of him.""Oh, dear me! O Lord! Stop a moment!" says Mr. Smallweed. "He'sso very prompt! Are you sure you can do it carefully, my worthyman?"Phil makes no reply, but seizing the chair and its load, sidlesaway, tightly bugged97 by the now speechless Mr. Smallweed, and boltsalong the passage as if he had an acceptable commission to carrythe old gentleman to the nearest volcano. His shorter trust,however, terminating at the cab, he deposits him there; and thefair Judy takes her place beside him, and the chair embellishes98 theroof, and Mr. George takes the vacant place upon the box.
Mr. George is quite confounded by the spectacle he beholds99 fromtime to time as he peeps into the cab through the window behindhim, where the grim Judy is always motionless, and the oldgentleman with his cap over one eye is always sliding off the seatinto the straw and looking upward at him out of his other eye witha helpless expression of being jolted100 in the back.
收听单词发音 |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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galleys
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| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
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traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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bullies
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| n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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fustian
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| n.浮夸的；厚粗棉布 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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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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mattresses
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| 褥垫，床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
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friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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13
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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14
excoriate
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| v.使磨破皮；剥皮 | |
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15
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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16
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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17
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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18
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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19
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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20
chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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21
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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22
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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23
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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25
broiling
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| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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26
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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27
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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28
plying
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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29
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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30
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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31
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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32
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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33
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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34
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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35
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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36
runaways
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| （轻而易举的）胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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37
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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38
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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39
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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40
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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41
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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42
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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43
singeing
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的现在分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿]；烧毛 | |
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44
larking
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| v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的现在分词 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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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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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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49
tacking
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| （帆船）抢风行驶，定位焊[铆]紧钉 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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51
apertures
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| n.孔( aperture的名词复数 )；隙缝；（照相机的）光圈；孔径 | |
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52
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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53
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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descries
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| v.被看到的，被发现的，被注意到的( descried的现在分词 ) | |
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throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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56
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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57
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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58
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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59
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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62
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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63
genie
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| n.妖怪，神怪 | |
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64
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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65
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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66
prospering
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
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67
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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68
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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69
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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70
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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71
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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72
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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73
pounces
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的第三人称单数 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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74
pokes
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| v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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75
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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76
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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77
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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78
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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79
chatters
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的第三人称单数 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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80
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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81
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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82
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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83
inflates
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| v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的第三人称单数 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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84
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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85
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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86
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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87
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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88
lawsuit
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| n.诉讼，控诉 | |
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89
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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90
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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91
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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92
cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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93
tickles
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| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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94
paralytic
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| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
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95
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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96
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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97
bugged
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| vt.在…装窃听器（bug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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98
embellishes
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| v.美化( embellish的第三人称单数 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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99
beholds
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| v.看，注视( behold的第三人称单数 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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100
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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