A BOTTLE of wine, and the mild, persuasive1 manner of Mr. Snivel, so completely won over George's confidence, that, like one of that class always too ready to give out their heart-achings at the touch of sympathy, and too easily betrayed through misplaced confidence, he commences relating his history. That of Anna is identified with it. "We will together proceed to New York, for it is there, among haunts of vice3 and depravity--"
"In depth of degradation4 they have no counterpart on our globe," Mr. Soloman interrupts, filling his glass.
"We came up together-knew each other, but not ourselves. That was our dark age." George pauses for a moment.
"Bless you," again interrupts Mr. Soloman, tipping his glass very politely, "I never-that is, when I hear our people who get themselves laced into narrow-stringed Calvinism, and long-founded foreign missions, talk-think much could have come of the dark ages. I speak after the manner of an attorney, when I say this. We hear a deal of the dark ages, the crimes of the dark ages, the dark idolatry of darker Africa. My word for it, and it's something, if they had anything darker in Sodom; if they had in Babylon a state of degradation more hardened of crime; if in Egypt there existed a benightedness5 more stubbornly opposed to the laws of God-than is to be found in that New York; that city of merchant princes with princely palaces; that modern Pompeii into which a mighty6 commerce teems7 its mightier8 gold, where a coarse throng9 revel10 in coarser luxury, where a thousand gaudy11 churches rear heavenward their gaudier12 steeples, then I have no pity for Sodom, not a tear to shed over fallen Babylon, and very little love for Egypt." Mr. Snivel concludes, saying--"proceed, young man."
"Of my mother I know nothing. My father (I mean the man I called father, but who they said was not my father, though he was the only one that cared anything for me) was Tom English, who used to live here and there with me about the Points. He was always looking in at Paddy Pie's, in Orange street, and Paddy Pie got all his money, and then Paddy Pie and him quarrelled, and we were turned out of Paddy Pie's house. So we used to lodge13 here and there, in the cellars about the Points, in 'Cut Throat Alley14,' or 'Cow Bay,' or 'Murderer's Alley,' or in 'The House of the Nine Nations,' or wherever we could get a sixpenny rag to lay down upon. Nobody but English seemed to care for me, and English cared for nobody but me. And English got thick with Mrs. McCarty and her three daughters--they kept the Rookery in 'Cow Bay,' which we used to get to up a long pair of stairs outside, and which God knows I never want to think of again,--where sometimes fourteen or fifteen of us, men and women, used to sleep in a little room Mrs. McCarty paid eight dollars a month for. And Mr. Crown, who always seemed a cross sort of man, and was agent for all the houses on the Points I thought, used to say she had it too cheap. And English got to thinking a good deal of Mrs. McCarty, and Mrs. McCarty's daughters got to thinking a good deal of him. And Boatswain Bill, who lived at the house of the 'Nine Nations'-the house they said had a bottomless pit-and English used to fight a deal about the Miss McCartys, and Bill one night threw English over the high stoop, down upon the pavement, and broke his arms. They said it was a wonder it hadn't a broken his neck. Fighting Mary (Mary didn't go by that name then) came up and took English's part, and whipped Boatswain Bill, and said she'd whip the whole house of the 'Nine Nations' if it had spunk15 enough in it to come on. But no one dare have a set-to with Mary. Mary used to drink a deal of gin, and say-'this gin and the devil 'll get us all one of these days. I wonder if Mr. Crown 'll sell bad gin to his highness when he gets him?" Well, Bill was sent up for six months, so the McCartys had peace in the house, and Mrs. McCarty got him little things, and did for English until his arms got well. Then he got a little money, (I don't know how he got it,) and Paddy Pie made good friends with him, and got him from the Rookery, and then all his money. I used to think all the money in the Points found its way either to the house of Paddy Pie, or the Bottomless Pit at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' and all the clothes to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs16,' which the man with the eagle face kept round the corner.
"English used to say in one of his troubled fits, 'I'd like to be a respectable man, and get out of this, if there was a chance, and do something for you, George. There's no chance, you see.' And when we went into Broadway, which we did now and then, and saw what another world it was, and how rich everything looked, English used to shake his head and say, 'they don't know how we live, George.'
"Paddy Pie soon quarrelled with English, and being penniless again we had to shift for ourselves. English didn't like to go back to Mrs. McCarty, so we used to sleep at Mrs. Sullivan's cellar in 'Cut Throat Alley.' And Mrs. Sullivan's cellar was only about twelve feet by twenty, and high enough to stand up in, and wet enough for anything, and so overrun with rats and vermin that we couldn't sleep. There were nine rag-beds in the cellar, which as many as twenty-three would sometimes sleep on, or, if they were not too tipsy, try to sleep on. And folks used to come into the cellar at night, and be found dead in the morning. This made such a fuss in the neighborhood (there was always a fuss when Old Bones, the coroner, was about), and frightened so many, that Mrs. Sullivan couldn't get lodgers17 for weeks. She used to nail no end of horse-shoes over the door to keep out the ghosts of them that died last. But it was a long while before her lodgers got courage enough to come back. Then we went to the house of the Blazers, in 'Cow Bay,' and used to lodge there with Yellow Bill. They said Bill was a thief by profession; but I wasn't old enough to be a judge. Little Lizza Rock, the nondescript, as people called her, used to live at the Blazers. Poor Lizza had a hard time of it, and used to sigh and say she wished she was dead. Nobody thought of her, she said, and she was nothing because she was deformed18, and a cripple. She was about four feet high, had a face like a bull-dog, and a swollen19 chest, and a hunchback, a deformed leg, and went with a crutch20. She never combed her hair, and what few rags she had on her back hung in filth21. What few shillings she got were sure to find their way either into Bill's pocket, or send her tipsy into the 'Bottomless Pit' of the house of the 'Nine Nations.' There was in the Bottomless Pit a never-ending stream of gin that sent everybody to the Tombs, and from the Tombs to the grave. But Lizza was good to me, and used to take care of me, and steal little things for me from old Dan Sullivan, who begged in Broadway, and let Yellow Bill get his money, by getting him tipsy. And I got to liking22 Lizza, for we both seemed to have no one in the world who cared for us but English. And there was always some trouble between the Blazers and the people at the house of the 'Nine Nations.'
"Well, English was hard to do for some time, and through necessity, which he said a deal about, we were driven out of every place we had sought shelter in. And English did something they sent him up for a twelve-month for, and I was left to get on as I could. I was took in by 'Hard-Fisted Sall,' who always wore a knuckle-duster, and used to knock everybody down she met, and threatened a dozen times to whip Mr. Fitzgerald, the detective, and used to rob every one she took in tow, and said if she could only knock down and rob the whole pumpkin-headed corporation she should die easy, for then she would know she had done a good thing for the public, whose money they were squandering23 without once thinking how the condition of such wretches24 as herself could be bettered.
"English died before he had been up two months. And death reconciled the little difficulty between him and the McCartys; and old Mrs. McCarty's liking for him came back, and she went crying to the Bellevue and begged them, saying she was his mother, to let her take his body away and bury it. They let her have it, and she brought it away to the rookery, in a red coffin25, and got a clean sheet of the Blazers, and hung it up beside the coffin, and set four candles on a table, and a little cross between them, and then borrowed a Bible with a cross on it, and laid it upon the coffin. Then they sent for me. I cried and kissed poor English, for poor English was the only father I knew, and he was good to me. I never shall forget what I saw in that little room that night. I found a dozen friends and the McCartys there, forming a half-circle of curious and demoniacal faces, peering over the body of English, whose face, I thought, formed the only repose26 in the picture. There were two small pictures-one of the Saviour27, and the other of Kossuth-hung at the head and feet of the corpse28; and the light shed a lurid29 paleness over the living and the dead. And detective Fitzgerald and another gentleman looked in.
"'Who's here to-night?' says Fitzgerald, in a friendly sort of way.
"'God love ye, Mr. Fitzgerald, poor English is gone! Indeed, then, it was the will of the Lord, and He's taken him from us-poor English!' says Mrs. McCarty. And Fitzgerald, and the gentleman with him, entered the den2, and they shuddered30 and sat down at the sight of the face in the coffin. 'Sit down, Mr. Fitzgerald, do!--and may the Lord love ye! There was a deal of good in poor English. He's gone-so he is!' said Mrs. McCarty, begging them to sit down, and excuse the disordered state of her few rags. She had a hard struggle to live, God knows. They took off their hats, and sat a few minutes in solemn silence. The rags moved at the gentleman's side, which made him move towards the door. 'What is there, my good woman?' he inquired. 'She's a blessed child, Mr. Fitzgerald knows that same:' says Mrs. McCarty, turning down the rags and revealing the wasted features of her youngest girl, a child eleven years old, sinking in death. 'God knows she'll be better in heaven, and herself won't be long out of it,' Mrs. McCarty twice repeated, maintaining a singular indifference31 to the hand of death, already upon the child. The gentleman left some money to buy candles for poor English, and with Mr. Fitzgerald took himself away.
"Near midnight, the tall black figure of solemn-faced Father Flaherty stalked in. He was not pleased with the McCartys, but went to the side of the dying child, fondled her little wasted hand in his own, and whispered a prayer for her soul. Never shall I forget how innocently she looked in his face while he parted the little ringlets that curled over her brow, and told her she would soon have a better home in a better world. Then he turned to poor English, and the cross, and the candles, and the pictures, and the living faces that gave such a ghastliness to the picture. Mrs. McCarty brought him a basin of water, over which he muttered, and made it holy. Then he again muttered some unintelligible32 sentences, and sprinkled the water over the dying child, over the body of poor English, and over the living-warning Mrs. McCarty and her daughters, as he pointed33 to the coffin. Then he knelt down, and they all knelt down, and he prayed for the soul of poor English, and left. What holy water then was left, Mrs. McCarty placed near the door, to keep the ghosts out.
"The neighbors at the Blazers took a look in, and a few friends at the house of the 'Nine Nations' took a look in, and 'Fighting Mary,' of Murderer's Alley, took a look in, and before Father Flaherty had got well out of 'Cow Bay,' it got to be thought a trifle of a wake would console Mrs. McCarty's distracted feelings. 'Hard-fisted Sall' came to take a last look at poor English; and she said she would spend her last shilling over poor English, and having one, it would get a drop, and a drop dropped into the right place would do Mrs. McCarty a deal of good.
"And Mrs. McCarty agreed that it wouldn't be amiss, and putting with Sall's shilling the money that was to get the candles, I was sent to the 'Bottomless Pit' at the house of the 'Nine Nations,' where Mr. Crown had a score with the old woman, and fetched away a quart of his gin, which they said was getting the whole of them. The McCartys took a drop, and the girls took a drop, and the neighbors took a drop, and they all kept taking drops, and the drops got the better of them all. One of the Miss McCartys got to having words with 'Fighting Mary,' about an old affair in which poor English was concerned, and the words got to blows, when Mr. Flanegan at the Blazers stepped in to make peace. But the whole house got into a fight, and the lights were put out, the corpse knocked over, and the child (it was found dead in the morning) suffocated34 with the weight of bodies felled in the melee35. The noise and cries of murder brought the police rushing in, and most of them were dragged off to the Station; and the next day being Sunday, I wandered homeless and friendless into Sheriff street. Poor English was taken in charge by the officers. They kept him over Monday to see if any one would come up and claim him. No one came for him; no one knew more of him than that he went by the name of English; no one ever heard him say where he came from-he never said a word about my mother, or whether he had a relation in the world. He was carted off to Potter's Field and buried. That was the last of poor English.
"We seldom got much to eat in the Points, and I had not tasted food for twenty-four hours. I sat down on the steps of a German grocery, and was soon ordered away by the keeper. Then I wandered into a place they called Nightmare's Alley, where three old wooden buildings with broken-down verandas37 stood, and were inhabited principally by butchers. I sat down on the steps of one, and thought if I only had a mother, or some one to care for me, and give me something to eat, how happy I should be. And I cried. And a great red-faced man came out of the house, and took me in, and gave me something to eat. His name was Mike Mullholland, and he was good to me, and I liked him, and took his name. And he lived with a repulsive38 looking woman, in a little room he paid ten dollars a month for. He had two big dogs, and worked at day work, in a slaughter-house in Staunton street. The dogs were known in the neighborhood as Mullholland's dogs, and with them I used to sleep on the rags of carpet spread for us in the room with Mullholland and his wife, who I got to calling mother. This is how I took the name of Mullholland. I was glad to leave the Points, and felt as if I had a home. But there was a 'Bottomless Pit' in Sheriff street, and though not so bad as the one at the house of the "Nine Nations," it gave out a deal of gin that the Mullhollands had a liking for. I was continually going for it, and the Mullhollands were continually drinking it; and the whole neighborhood liked it, and in 'Nightmare's Alley' the undertaker found a profitable business.
"In the morning I went with the dogs to the slaughter-house, and there fed them, and took care of the fighting cocks, and brought gin for the men who worked there. In the afternoon I joined the newsboys, as ragged36 and neglected as myself, gambled for cents, and watched the policemen, whom we called the Charleys. I lived with Mullholland two years, and saw and felt enough to make hardened any one of my age. One morning there came a loud knocking at the door, which was followed by the entrance of two officers. The dogs had got out and bitten a child, and the officers, knowing who owned them, had come to arrest Mullholland. We were all surprised, for the officers recognized in Mullholland and the woman two old offenders39. And while they were dragged off to the Tombs, I was left to prey40 upon the world as best I could. Again homeless, I wandered about with urchins41 as ragged and destitute42 as myself. It seemed to me that everybody viewed me as an object of suspicion, for I sought in vain for employment that would give me bread and clothing. I wanted to be honest, and would have lived honest; but I could not make people believe me honest. And when I told who I was, and where I sheltered myself, I was ordered away. Everybody judged me by the filthy43 shreds44 on my back; nobody had anything for me to do.
"I applied45 at a grocer's, to sweep his store and go errands. When I told him where I had lived, he shook his head and ordered me away. Knowing I could fill a place not unknown to me, I applied at a butcher's in Mott street; but he pointed his knife-which left a wound in my feelings-and ordered me away. And I was ordered away wherever I went. The doors of the Chatham theatre looked too fine for me. My ragged condition rebuked46 me wherever I went, and for more than a week I slept under a cart that stood in Mott street. Then Tom Farley found me, and took me with him to his cellar, in Elizabeth street, where we had what I thought a good bed of shavings. Tom sold Heralds47, gambled for cents, and shared with me, and we got along. Then Tom stole a dog, and the dog got us into a deal of trouble, which ended with getting us both into the Tombs, where Tom was locked up. I was again adrift, as we used to call it, and thought of poor Tom a deal. Every one I met seemed higher up in the world than I was. But I got into Centre Market, carried baskets, and did what I could to earn a shilling, and slept in Tom's bed, where there was some nights fifteen and twenty like myself.
"One morning, while waiting a job, my feet and hands benumbed with the cold, a beautiful lady slipped a shilling into my hand and passed on. To one penniless and hungry, it seemed a deal of money. Necessity had almost driven me to the sign of the 'Three Martyrs,' to see what the man of the eagle face would give me on my cap, for they said the man at the 'Three Martyrs' lent money on rags such as I had. I followed the woman, for there was something so good in the act that I could not resist it. She entered a fine house in Leonard street.
"You must now go with me into the den of Hag Zogbaum, in 'Scorpion48 Cove49;' and 'Scorpion Cove' is in Pell street. Necessity next drove me there. It is early spring, we will suppose; and being in the Bowery, we find the streets in its vicinity reeking50 with putrid51 matter, hurling52 pestilence53 into the dark dwellings54 of the unknown poor, and making thankful the coffin-maker, who in turn thanks a nonundertaking corporation for the rich harvest. The muck is everywhere deep enough for hogs55 and fat aldermen to wallow in, and would serve well the purposes of a supper-eating corporation, whose chief business it was to fatten56 turtles and make Presidents.
"We have got through the muck of the mucky Bowery. Let us turn to the left as we ascend57 the hill from Chatham street, and into a narrow, winding58 way, called Doyer's street. Dutch Sophy, then, as now, sits in all the good nature of her short, fat figure, serving her customers with ices, at three cents. Her cunning black eyes and cheerful, ruddy face, enhance the air of pertness that has made her a favorite with her customers. We will pass the little wooden shop, where Mr. Saunders makes boots of the latest style, and where old lapstone, with curious framed spectacles tied over his bleared eyes, has for the last forty years been seen at the window trimming welts, and mending every one's sole but his own; we will pass the four story wooden house that the landlord never paints-that has the little square windows, and the little square door, and the two little iron hand rails that curl so crabbedly at the ends, and guard four crabbeder steps that give ingress and egress59 to its swarm60 of poor but honest tenants61; we will pass the shop where a short, stylish62 sign tells us Mr. Robertson makes bedsteads; and the little, slanting63 house a line of yellow letters on a square of black tin tells us is a select school for young ladies, and the bright, dainty looking house with the green shutters64, where lives Mr. Vredenburg the carpenter, who, the neighbors say, has got up in the world, and paints his house to show that he feels above poor folks-and find we have reached the sooty and gin-reeking grocery of Mr. Korner, who sells the devil's elixir65 to the sootier devils that swarm the cellars of his neighbors. The faded blue letters, on a strip of wood nailed to the bricks over his door, tell us he is a dealer66 in "Imported and other liquors." Next door to Mr. Korner's tipsy looking grocery lives Mr. Muffin, the coffin-maker, who has a large business with the disciples67 who look in at Korner's. Mrs. Downey, a decent sort of body, who lives up the alley, and takes sixpenny lodgers by the dozen, may be seen in great tribulation68 with her pet pig, who, every day, much to the annoyance69 of Mr. Korner, manages to get out, and into the pool of decaying matter opposite his door, where he is sure to get stuck, and with his natural propensity70, squeals71 lustily for assistance. Mrs. Downey, as is her habit, gets distracted; and having well abused Mr. Korner for his interference in a matter that can only concern herself and the animal, ventures to her knees in the mire72, and having seized her darling pig by the two ears, does, with the assistance of a policeman, who kindly73 takes him by the tail, extricate74 his porkship, to the great joy of herself. The animal scampers76, grunting77, up the alley, as Mr. Korner, in his shirt sleeves, throws his broom after him, and the policeman surlily says he wishes it was the street commissioner78.
"We have made the circle of Doyer's street, and find it fortified79 on Pell street, with two decrepit80 wooden buildings, that the demand for the 'devil's elixir,' has converted into Dutch groceries, their exteriors81 presenting the appearance of having withstood a storm of dilapidated clapboards, broken shutters, red herrings, and onions. Mr. Voss looks suspiciously through the broken shutters of his Gibraltar, at his neighbor of the opposite Gibraltar, and is heard to say of his wares82 that they are none of the best, and that while he sells sixpence a pint83 less, the article is a shilling a pint better. And there the two Gibraltars stand, apparently84 infirm, hurling their unerring missiles, and making wreck85 of everything in the neighborhood.
"We have turned down Pell street toward Mott, and on the north side a light-colored sign, representing a smith in the act of shoeing a horse, attracts the eye, and tells us the old cavern-like building over which it swings, is where Mr. Mooney does smithwork and shoeing. And a little further on, a dash of yellow and white paint on a little sign-board at the entrance of an alley, guarded on one side by a broken-down shed, and on the other, by a three-story, narrow, brick building (from the windows of which trail long water-stains, and from the broken panes86 a dozen curious black heads, of as many curious eyed negroes protrude), tells us somewhat indefinitely, that Mister Mills, white-washer and wall-colorer, may be found in the neighborhood, which, judging from outward appearances, stands much in need of this good man's services. Just keep your eye on the sign of the white-washer and wall-colorer, and passing up the sickly alley it tells you Mister Mills may be found in, you will find yourself (having picked your way over putrid matter, and placed your perfumed cambric where it will protect your lungs from the inhalation of pestilential air,) in the cozy87 area of 'Scorpion Cove.' Scorpion Cove is bounded at one end by a two-story wooden house, with two decayed and broken verandas in front, and rickety steps leading here and there to suspicious looking passages, into which, and out of which a never-ending platoon of the rising generation crawl and toddle88, keep up a cheap serenade, and like rats, scamper75 away at the sight of a stranger; and on the other, by the back of the brick house with the negro-headed front. At the sides are two broken-down board fences, and forming a sort of net-work across the cove, are an innumerable quantity of unoccupied clothes-lines, which would seem only to serve the mischievous89 propensities90 of young negroes and the rats. There is any quantity of rubbish in 'Scorpion Cove,' and any amount of disease-breeding cesspools; but the corporation never heard of 'Scorpion Cove,' and wouldn't look into it if it had. If you ask me how it came to be called 'Scorpion Cove,' I will tell you. The brick house at one end was occupied by negroes; and the progeny91 of these negroes swarmed92 over the cove, and were called scorpions93. The old house of the verandas at the other end, and which had an air of being propped94 up after a shock of paralysis95, was inhabited by twenty or more families, of the Teutonic race, whose numerous progeny, called the hedge-hogs, were more than a match for the scorpions, and with that jealousy96 of each other which animates97 these races did the scorpions and hedge-hogs get at war. In the morning the scorpions would crawl up through holes in the cellar, through broken windows, through the trap-doors, down the long stairway that wound from the second and third stories over the broken pavilion, and from nobody could tell where-for they came, it seems, from every rat-hole, and with rolling white eyes, marshalled themselves for battle. The hedgehogs mustering98 in similar strength, and springing up from no one could tell where, would set upon the scorpions, and after a goodly amount of wallowing in the mire, pulling hair and wool, scratching faces and pommeling noses, the scorpions being alternately the victors and vanquished99, the war would end at the appearance of Hag Zogbaum, who, with her broom, would cause the scorpions to beat a hasty retreat. The hedge-hogs generally came off victorious100, for they were the stronger race. But the old hedge-hogs got much shattered in time by the broadsides of the two Gibraltars, which sent them broadside on into the Tombs. And this passion of the elder hedge-hogs for getting into the Tombs, caused by degrees a curtailing101 of the younger hedge-hogs. And this falling off in the forces of the foe102, singularly inspirited the scorpions, who mustered103 courage, and after a series of savage104 battles, in which there was a notorious amount of wool-pulling gained the day. And this is how 'Scorpion Cove' got its name.
"Hag Zogbaum lived in the cellar of the house with the verandas; and old Dan Sullivan and the rats had possession of the garret. In the cellar of this woman, whose trade was the fostering of crime in children as destitute as myself, there was a bar and a back cellar, where as many as twenty boys and girls slept on straw and were educated in vice. She took me into her nursery, and I was glad to get there, for I had no other place to go.
"In the morning we were sent out to pilfer105, to deceive the credulous106, and to decoy others to the den. Some were instructed by Hag Zogbaum to affect deaf and dumb, to plead the starving condition of our parents, to, in a word, enlist107 the sympathies of the credulous with an hundred different stories. We were all stimulated108 by a premium109 being held out to the most successful. Some were sent out to steal pieces of iron, brass110, copper111, and old junk; and these Hag Zogbaum would sell or give to the man who kept the junk-shop in Stanton street, known as the rookery at the corner. (This man lived with Hag Zogbaum.) We returned at night with our booty, and re- ceived our wages in gin or beer. The unsuccessful were set down as victims of bad luck. Now and then the old woman would call us a miserable112 lot of wretches she was pestered113 to take care of. At one time there were in this den of wretchedness fifteen girls from seven to eleven years old, and seven boys under eleven-all being initiated114 into the by-ways of vice and crime. Among the girls were Italians, Germans, Irish, and-shall I say it?-Americans! It was curious to see what means the old hag would resort to for the purpose of improving their features after they had arrived at a certain age. She had a purpose in this; and that purpose sprang from that traffic in depravity caused by the demands of a depraved society, a theme on her lips continually."
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persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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benightedness
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| 愚昧的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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teems
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| v.充满( teem的第三人称单数 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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gaudier
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| adj.花哨的，俗气的( gaudy的比较级 ) | |
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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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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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spunk
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| n.勇气，胆量 | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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crutch
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| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
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21
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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22
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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23
squandering
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的现在分词 ) | |
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24
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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25
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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26
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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27
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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28
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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29
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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30
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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31
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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32
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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33
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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34
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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35
melee
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| n.混战；混战的人群 | |
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36
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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37
verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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38
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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39
offenders
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| n.冒犯者( offender的名词复数 )；犯规者；罪犯；妨害…的人（或事物） | |
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40
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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urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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42
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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43
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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44
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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45
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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46
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
heralds
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| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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48
scorpion
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| n.蝎子，心黑的人，蝎子鞭 | |
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49
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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50
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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putrid
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| adj.腐臭的；有毒的；已腐烂的；卑劣的 | |
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52
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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53
pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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54
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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55
hogs
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| n.（尤指喂肥供食用的）猪( hog的名词复数 )；（供食用的）阉公猪；彻底地做某事；自私的或贪婪的人 | |
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56
fatten
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| v.使肥，变肥 | |
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57
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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58
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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59
egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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60
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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61
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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64
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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65
elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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66
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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67
disciples
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| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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68
tribulation
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| n.苦难，灾难 | |
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69
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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70
propensity
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| n.倾向；习性 | |
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71
squeals
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| n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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72
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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73
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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74
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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75
scamper
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| v.奔跑，快跑 | |
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76
scampers
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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77
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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78
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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79
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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80
decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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81
exteriors
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| n.外面( exterior的名词复数 )；外貌；户外景色图 | |
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82
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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83
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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84
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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85
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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86
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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87
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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88
toddle
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| v.（如小孩）蹒跚学步 | |
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89
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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90
propensities
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| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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91
progeny
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| n.后代，子孙；结果 | |
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92
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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93
scorpions
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| n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
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94
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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96
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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97
animates
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| v.使有生气( animate的第三人称单数 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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98
mustering
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的现在分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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99
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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100
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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101
curtailing
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| v.截断，缩短( curtail的现在分词 ) | |
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102
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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103
mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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104
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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105
pilfer
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| v.盗，偷，窃 | |
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106
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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107
enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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108
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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109
premium
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| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
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110
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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111
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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112
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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113
pestered
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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