WARGRAVE. - WAXWORKS1. - SONNING. - OUR STEW2. - MONTMORENCY IS SARCASTIC3.
- FIGHT BETWEEN MONTMORENCY AND THE TEA-KETTLE. - GEORGE'S BANJO STUDIES.
- MEET WITH DISCOURAGEMENT. - DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY OF THE MUSICALAMATEUR. - LEARNING TO PLAY THE BAGPIPES4. - HARRIS FEELS SAD AFTERSUPPER. - GEORGE AND I GO FOR A WALK. - RETURN HUNGRY AND WET. - THERE ISA STRANGENESS ABOUT HARRIS. - HARRIS AND THE SWANS, A REMARKABLE5 STORY. -HARRIS HAS A TROUBLED NIGHT.
WE caught a breeze, after lunch, which took us gently up past Wargraveand Shiplake. Mellowed6 in the drowsy7 sunlight of a summer's afternoon,Wargrave, nestling where the river bends, makes a sweet old picture asyou pass it, and one that lingers long upon the retina of memory.
The "George and Dragon" at Wargrave boasts a sign, painted on the oneside by Leslie, R.A., and on the other by Hodgson of that ilk. Lesliehas depicted8 the fight; Hodgson has imagined the scene, "After the Fight"- George, the work done, enjoying his pint9 of beer.
Day, the author of SANDFORD AND MERTON, lived and - more credit to theplace still - was killed at Wargrave. In the church is a memorial toMrs. Sarah Hill, who bequeathed 1 pound annually10, to be divided atEaster, between two boys and two girls who "have never been undutiful totheir parents; who have never been known to swear or to tell untruths, tosteal, or to break windows." Fancy giving up all that for five shillingsa year! It is not worth it.
It is rumoured11 in the town that once, many years ago, a boy appeared whoreally never had done these things - or at all events, which was all thatwas required or could be expected, had never been known to do them - andthus won the crown of glory. He was exhibited for three weeks afterwardsin the Town Hall, under a glass case.
What has become of the money since no one knows. They say it is alwayshanded over to the nearest wax-works show.
Shiplake is a pretty village, but it cannot be seen from the river, beingupon the hill. Tennyson was married in Shiplake Church.
The river up to Sonning winds in and out through many islands, and isvery placid12, hushed, and lonely. Few folk, except at twilight13, a pair ortwo of rustic14 lovers, walk along its banks. `Arry and Lord Fitznoodlehave been left behind at Henley, and dismal15, dirty Reading is not yetreached. It is a part of the river in which to dream of bygone days, andvanished forms and faces, and things that might have been, but are not,confound them.
We got out at Sonning, and went for a walk round the village. It is themost fairy-like little nook on the whole river. It is more like a stagevillage than one built of bricks and mortar16. Every house is smothered17 inroses, and now, in early June, they were bursting forth18 in clouds ofdainty splendour. If you stop at Sonning, put up at the "Bull," behindthe church. It is a veritable picture of an old country inn, with green,square courtyard in front, where, on seats beneath the trees, the old mengroup of an evening to drink their ale and gossip over village politics;with low, quaint19 rooms and latticed windows, and awkward stairs andwinding passages.
We roamed about sweet Sonning for an hour or so, and then, it being toolate to push on past Reading, we decided20 to go back to one of theShiplake islands, and put up there for the night. It was still earlywhen we got settled, and George said that, as we had plenty of time, itwould be a splendid opportunity to try a good, slap-up supper. He saidhe would show us what could be done up the river in the way of cooking,and suggested that, with the vegetables and the remains21 of the cold beefand general odds22 and ends, we should make an Irish stew.
It seemed a fascinating idea. George gathered wood and made a fire, andHarris and I started to peel the potatoes. I should never have thoughtthat peeling potatoes was such an undertaking24. The job turned out to bethe biggest thing of its kind that I had ever been in. We begancheerfully, one might almost say skittishly25, but our light-heartednesswas gone by the time the first potato was finished. The more we peeled,the more peel there seemed to be left on; by the time we had got all thepeel off and all the eyes out, there was no potato left - at least noneworth speaking of. George came and had a look at it - it was about thesize of a pea-nut. He said:
"Oh, that won't do! You're wasting them. You must scrape them."So we scraped them, and that was harder work than peeling. They are suchan extraordinary shape, potatoes - all bumps and warts26 and hollows. Weworked steadily27 for five-and-twenty minutes, and did four potatoes. Thenwe struck. We said we should require the rest of the evening forscraping ourselves.
I never saw such a thing as potato-scraping for making a fellow in amess. It seemed difficult to believe that the potato-scrapings in whichHarris and I stood, half smothered, could have come off four potatoes.
It shows you what can be done with economy and care.
George said it was absurd to have only four potatoes in an Irish stew, sowe washed half-a-dozen or so more, and put them in without peeling. Wealso put in a cabbage and about half a peck of peas. George stirred itall up, and then he said that there seemed to be a lot of room to spare,so we overhauled28 both the hampers30, and picked out all the odds and endsand the remnants, and added them to the stew. There were half a pork pieand a bit of cold boiled bacon left, and we put them in. Then Georgefound half a tin of potted salmon31, and he emptied that into the pot.
He said that was the advantage of Irish stew: you got rid of such a lotof things. I fished out a couple of eggs that had got cracked, and putthose in. George said they would thicken the gravy32.
I forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and Iremember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced greatinterest in the proceedings33 throughout, strolled away with an earnest andthoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead water-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as hiscontribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with agenuine desire to assist, I cannot say.
We had a discussion as to whether the rat should go in or not. Harrissaid that he thought it would be all right, mixed up with the otherthings, and that every little helped; but George stood up for precedent34.
He said he had never heard of water-rats in Irish stew, and he wouldrather be on the safe side, and not try experiments.
Harris said:
"If you never try a new thing, how can you tell what it's like? It's mensuch as you that hamper29 the world's progress. Think of the man who firsttried German sausage!"It was a great success, that Irish stew. I don't think I ever enjoyed ameal more. There was something so fresh and piquant35 about it. One'spalate gets so tired of the old hackneyed things: here was a dish with anew flavour, with a taste like nothing else on earth.
And it was nourishing, too. As George said, there was good stuff in it.
The peas and potatoes might have been a bit softer, but we all had goodteeth, so that did not matter much: and as for the gravy, it was a poem -a little too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious36.
We finished up with tea and cherry tart23. Montmorency had a fight withthe kettle during tea-time, and came off a poor second.
Throughout the trip, he had manifested great curiosity concerning thekettle. He would sit and watch it, as it boiled, with a puzzledexpression, and would try and rouse it every now and then by growling38 atit. When it began to splutter and steam, he regarded it as a challenge,and would want to fight it, only, at that precise moment, some one wouldalways dash up and bear off his prey39 before he could get at it.
To-day he determined40 he would be beforehand. At the first sound thekettle made, he rose, growling, and advanced towards it in a threateningattitude. It was only a little kettle, but it was full of pluck, and itup and spit at him.
"Ah! would ye!" growled41 Montmorency, showing his teeth; "I'll teach ye tocheek a hard-working, respectable dog; ye miserable42, long-nosed, dirty-looking scoundrel, ye. Come on!"And he rushed at that poor little kettle, and seized it by the spout43.
Then, across the evening stillness, broke a blood-curdling yelp44, andMontmorency left the boat, and did a constitutional three times round theisland at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour, stopping every now andthen to bury his nose in a bit of cool mud.
From that day Montmorency regarded the kettle with a mixture of awe,suspicion, and hate. Whenever he saw it he would growl37 and back at arapid rate, with his tail shut down, and the moment it was put upon thestove he would promptly45 climb out of the boat, and sit on the bank, tillthe whole tea business was over.
George got out his banjo after supper, and wanted to play it, but Harrisobjected: he said he had got a headache, and did not feel strong enoughto stand it. George thought the music might do him good - said musicoften soothed46 the nerves and took away a headache; and he twanged two orthree notes, just to show Harris what it was like.
Harris said he would rather have the headache.
George has never learned to play the banjo to this day. He has had toomuch all-round discouragement to meet. He tried on two or threeevenings, while we were up the river, to get a little practice, but itwas never a success. Harris's language used to be enough to unnerve anyman; added to which, Montmorency would sit and howl steadily, rightthrough the performance. It was not giving the man a fair chance.
"What's he want to howl like that for when I'm playing?" George wouldexclaim indignantly, while taking aim at him with a boot.
"What do you want to play like that for when he is howling?" Harris wouldretort, catching47 the boot. "You let him alone. He can't help howling.
He's got a musical ear, and your playing MAKES him howl."So George determined to postpone48 study of the banjo until he reachedhome. But he did not get much opportunity even there. Mrs. P. used tocome up and say she was very sorry - for herself, she liked to hear him -but the lady upstairs was in a very delicate state, and the doctor wasafraid it might injure the child.
Then George tried taking it out with him late at night, and practisinground the square. But the inhabitants complained to the police about it,and a watch was set for him one night, and he was captured. The evidenceagainst him was very clear, and he was bound over to keep the peace forsix months.
He seemed to lose heart in the business after that. He did make one ortwo feeble efforts to take up the work again when the six months hadelapsed, but there was always the same coldness - the same want ofsympathy on the part of the world to fight against; and, after awhile, hedespaired altogether, and advertised the instrument for sale at a greatsacrifice - "owner having no further use for same" - and took to learningcard tricks instead.
It must be disheartening work learning a musical instrument. You wouldthink that Society, for its own sake, would do all it could to assist aman to acquire the art of playing a musical instrument. But it doesn't!
I knew a young fellow once, who was studying to play the bagpipes, andyou would be surprised at the amount of opposition49 he had to contendwith. Why, not even from the members of his own family did he receivewhat you could call active encouragement. His father was dead againstthe business from the beginning, and spoke50 quite unfeelingly on thesubject.
My friend used to get up early in the morning to practise, but he had togive that plan up, because of his sister. She was somewhat religiouslyinclined, and she said it seemed such an awful thing to begin the daylike that.
So he sat up at night instead, and played after the family had gone tobed, but that did not do, as it got the house such a bad name. People,going home late, would stop outside to listen, and then put it about allover the town, the next morning, that a fearful murder had been committedat Mr. Jefferson's the night before; and would describe how they hadheard the victim's shrieks51 and the brutal52 oaths and curses of themurderer, followed by the prayer for mercy, and the last dying gurgle ofthe corpse53.
So they let him practise in the day-time, in the back-kitchen with allthe doors shut; but his more successful passages could generally be heardin the sitting-room54, in spite of these precautions, and would affect hismother almost to tears.
She said it put her in mind of her poor father (he had been swallowed bya shark, poor man, while bathing off the coast of New Guinea - where theconnection came in, she could not explain).
Then they knocked up a little place for him at the bottom of the garden,about quarter of a mile from the house, and made him take the machinedown there when he wanted to work it; and sometimes a visitor would cometo the house who knew nothing of the matter, and they would forget totell him all about it, and caution him, and he would go out for a strollround the garden and suddenly get within earshot of those bagpipes,without being prepared for it, or knowing what it was. If he were a manof strong mind, it only gave him fits; but a person of mere55 averageintellect it usually sent mad.
There is, it must be confessed, something very sad about the earlyefforts of an amateur in bagpipes. I have felt that myself whenlistening to my young friend. They appear to be a trying instrument toperform upon. You have to get enough breath for the whole tune56 beforeyou start - at least, so I gathered from watching Jefferson.
He would begin magnificently with a wild, full, come-to-the-battle sortof a note, that quite roused you. But he would get more and more pianoas he went on, and the last verse generally collapsed57 in the middle witha splutter and a hiss58.
You want to be in good health to play the bagpipes.
Young Jefferson only learnt to play one tune on those bagpipes; but Inever heard any complaints about the insufficiency of his repertoire59 -none whatever. This tune was "The Campbells are Coming, Hooray -Hooray!" so he said, though his father always held that it was "The BlueBells60 of Scotland." Nobody seemed quite sure what it was exactly, butthey all agreed that it sounded Scotch61.
Strangers were allowed three guesses, and most of them guessed adifferent tune each time.
Harris was disagreeable after supper, - I think it must have been thestew that had upset him: he is not used to high living, - so George and Ileft him in the boat, and settled to go for a mouch round Henley. Hesaid he should have a glass of whisky and a pipe, and fix things up forthe night. We were to shout when we returned, and he would row over fromthe island and fetch us.
"Don't go to sleep, old man," we said as we started.
"Not much fear of that while this stew's on," he grunted62, as he pulledback to the island.
Henley was getting ready for the regatta, and was full of bustle63. We meta goodish number of men we knew about the town, and in their pleasantcompany the time slipped by somewhat quickly; so that it was nearlyeleven o'clock before we set off on our four-mile walk home - as we hadlearned to call our little craft by this time.
It was a dismal night, coldish, with a thin rain falling; and as wetrudged through the dark, silent fields, talking low to each other, andwondering if we were going right or not, we thought of the cosy64 boat,with the bright light streaming through the tight-drawn canvas; of Harrisand Montmorency, and the whisky, and wished that we were there.
We conjured65 up the picture of ourselves inside, tired and a littlehungry; of the gloomy river and the shapeless trees; and, like a giantglow-worm underneath66 them, our dear old boat, so snug67 and warm andcheerful. We could see ourselves at supper there, pecking away at coldmeat, and passing each other chunks68 of bread; we could hear the cheeryclatter of our knives, the laughing voices, filling all the space, andoverflowing through the opening out into the night. And we hurried on torealise the vision.
We struck the tow-path at length, and that made us happy; because priorto this we had not been sure whether we were walking towards the river oraway from it, and when you are tired and want to go to bed uncertaintieslike that worry you. We passed Skiplake as the clock was striking thequarter to twelve; and then George said, thoughtfully:
"You don't happen to remember which of the islands it was, do you?""No," I replied, beginning to grow thoughtful too, "I don't. How manyare there?""Only four," answered George. "It will be all right, if he's awake.""And if not?" I queried69; but we dismissed that train of thought.
We shouted when we came opposite the first island, but there was noresponse; so we went to the second, and tried there, and obtained thesame result.
"Oh! I remember now," said George; "it was the third one."And we ran on hopefully to the third one, and hallooed.
No answer!
The case was becoming serious. it was now past midnight. The hotels atSkiplake and Henley would be crammed70; and we could not go round, knockingup cottagers and householders in the middle of the night, to know if theylet apartments! George suggested walking back to Henley and assaulting apoliceman, and so getting a night's lodging71 in the station-house. Butthen there was the thought, "Suppose he only hits us back and refuses tolock us up!"We could not pass the whole night fighting policemen. Besides, we didnot want to overdo72 the thing and get six months.
We despairingly tried what seemed in the darkness to be the fourthisland, but met with no better success. The rain was coming down fastnow, and evidently meant to last. We were wet to the skin, and cold andmiserable. We began to wonder whether there were only four islands ormore, or whether we were near the islands at all, or whether we wereanywhere within a mile of where we ought to be, or in the wrong part ofthe river altogether; everything looked so strange and different in thedarkness. We began to understand the sufferings of the Babes in theWood.
Just when we had given up all hope - yes, I know that is always the timethat things do happen in novels and tales; but I can't help it. Iresolved, when I began to write this book, that I would be strictlytruthful in all things; and so I will be, even if I have to employhackneyed phrases for the purpose.
It WAS just when we had given up all hope, and I must therefore say so.
Just when we had given up all hope, then, I suddenly caught sight, alittle way below us, of a strange, weird73 sort of glimmer74 flickering75 amongthe trees on the opposite bank. For an instant I thought of ghosts: itwas such a shadowy, mysterious light. The next moment it flashed acrossme that it was our boat, and I sent up such a yell across the water thatmade the night seem to shake in its bed.
We waited breathless for a minute, and then - oh! divinest music of thedarkness! - we heard the answering bark of Montmorency. We shouted backloud enough to wake the Seven Sleepers76 - I never could understand myselfwhy it should take more noise to wake seven sleepers than one - and,after what seemed an hour, but what was really, I suppose, about fiveminutes, we saw the lighted boat creeping slowly over the blackness, andheard Harris's sleepy voice asking where we were.
There was an unaccountable strangeness about Harris. It was somethingmore than mere ordinary tiredness. He pulled the boat against a part ofthe bank from which it was quite impossible for us to get into it, andimmediately went to sleep. It took us an immense amount of screaming androaring to wake him up again and put some sense into him; but wesucceeded at last, and got safely on board.
Harris had a sad expression on him, so we noticed, when we got into theboat. He gave you the idea of a man who had been through trouble. Weasked him if anything had happened, and he said-"Swans!"It seemed we had moored77 close to a swan's nest, and, soon after Georgeand I had gone, the female swan came back, and kicked up a row about it.
Harris had chivied her off, and she had gone away, and fetched up her oldman. Harris said he had had quite a fight with these two swans; butcourage and skill had prevailed in the end, and he had defeated them.
Half-an-hour afterwards they returned with eighteen other swans! It musthave been a fearful battle, so far as we could understand Harris'saccount of it. The swans had tried to drag him and Montmorency out ofthe boat and drown them; and he had defended himself like a hero for fourhours, and had killed the lot, and they had all paddled away to die.
"How many swans did you say there were?" asked George.
"Thirty-two," replied Harris, sleepily.
"You said eighteen just now," said George.
"No, I didn't," grunted Harris; "I said twelve. Think I can't count?"What were the real facts about these swans we never found out. Wequestioned Harris on the subject in the morning, and he said, "Whatswans?" and seemed to think that George and I had been dreaming.
Oh, how delightful78 it was to be safe in the boat, after our trials andfears! We ate a hearty79 supper, George and I, and we should have had sometoddy after it, if we could have found the whisky, but we could not. Weexamined Harris as to what he had done with it; but he did not seem toknow what we meant by "whisky," or what we were talking about at all.
Montmorency looked as if he knew something, but said nothing.
I slept well that night, and should have slept better if it had not beenfor Harris. I have a vague recollection of having been woke up at leasta dozen times during the night by Harris wandering about the boat withthe lantern, looking for his clothes. He seemed to be worrying about hisclothes all night.
Twice he routed up George and myself to see if we were lying on histrousers. George got quite wild the second time.
"What the thunder do you want your trousers for, in the middle of thenight?" he asked indignantly. "Why don't you lie down, and go to sleep?"I found him in trouble, the next time I awoke, because he could not findhis socks; and my last hazy80 remembrance is of being rolled over on myside, and of hearing Harris muttering something about its being anextraordinary thing where his umbrella could have got to.
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waxworks
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| n.公共供水系统；蜡制品，蜡像( waxwork的名词复数 ) | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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bagpipes
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| n.风笛；风笛( bagpipe的名词复数 ) | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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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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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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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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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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skittishly
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warts
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| n.疣( wart的名词复数 )；肉赘；树瘤；缺点 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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overhauled
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| v.彻底检查( overhaul的过去式和过去分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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hampers
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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nutritious
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| adj.有营养的，营养价值高的 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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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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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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repertoire
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| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
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bluebells
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| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
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scotch
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| 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 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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conjured
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| 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 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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71
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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overdo
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| vt.把...做得过头，演得过火 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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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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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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