In the case of the Dancers, we have it recorded that their money-grubbing propensity15 was prominent in three generations of the family. The grandfather, the father, and the children, were all misers16—the lot of them, Daniel Dancer, Esq., appears to have been the most distinguished17. He lived on the Weald of Harrow, where he had a little estate of about eighty acres of rich meadow-land, with some of the finest oak timber in the kingdom on it. Besides, there was a good farm belonging to him, worth at that time, if properly cultivated, more than £200 a-year. One day, coming to London to invest £2,000 in the funds, a gentleman, who met him near the Exchange, mistaking him for a beggar, put a penny in his hand—an affront18 which, it is needless to say, the beggar pocketed. In spite of the fact that his wretched abode19 was often broken into, he made a great deal of money by his penurious20 habits. It took many weeks to explore the contents of his dwelling21. As much as £2,500 were found on the dung-heap in the cow-house; and in an old jacket, carefully tied and strongly nailed to the manger, was the sum of £500 in gold and bank-notes; £200 were found in the chimney, and an old teapot contained bank-notes to the value of £500. Lady Tempest and Captain Holmes, his heirs, were benefited by the old miser’s savings22 to the extent of about £3,000 a-year.
Money is sometimes strangely made. For instance, there is the case of Gully, who was M.P. for Pontefract in 1832. “He was taken out of prison,” writes Mr. Charles Greville, “twenty-five or thirty years ago by a gentleman to fight Pierce, surnamed the Game Chicken. He afterwards fought Belcher (I believe), and Gregson twice, and left the prize-ring with the reputation of being the best man in it. He then took to the turf, was successful in establishing himself at Newmarket, where he kept ‘a hell,’ and began a system of corruption23 of trainers, jockeys, and boys, which put the secrets of all Newmarket at his disposal, and in a few years made him rich. At the same time he connected himself with Mr. Watt24, in the north, by betting for him; and this being at the time when Watt’s stable was very successful, he won large sums of p. 134money by his horses. Having become rich, he embarked25 in a great coal speculation26, which answered beyond his hopes, and his shares soon yielded immense profits. His wife, who was a coarse, vulgar woman, in the meantime died, and he afterwards married the daughter of an innkeeper, who proved as gentlewoman-like as the other was the reverse, and who was very pretty besides. He now gradually withdrew from the betting-ring as a regular blackleg, still keeping horses, and betting occasionally in large sums. He ultimately bought an estate near Pontefract, and settled down as a gentleman of fortune.”
Of the beggarly race of misers, the most notorious was Thomas Cooke, born in the year 1726, at Clewer, a village near Windsor. His father, an itinerant28 fiddler, got his living by playing in alehouses and fairs, but dying while Thomas was an infant, his grandmother, who lived near Norwich, took care of him till he was able to provide for himself, at which time he obtained employment in a manufactory where there were a number of other boys who were paid according to the work they did. These boys always clubbed some money from their weekly earnings29 for the establishment of a mess; young Cooke, however, resolved to live cheaper, and when the other boys went to dinner he retired30 to the side of a brook31, and made his breakfast and dinner at one meal upon an halfpenny loaf, an apple, and a draught32 of water from the running stream, taken up in the brim of his hat. With the money thus saved, he paid a youth, who was usher33 to a village schoolmaster, to instruct him in reading, writing, and arithmetic. Arrived at years of maturity34, Cooke found employment at a Norwich warehouse35 as a porter. There his sobriety and industry caused his master to make him a journeyman, and raise his wages. Further, his master finding that he wished for an appointment as an exciseman, procured37 a situation for him near London, and he came to the capital by the Norwich waggon38 with only eight shillings in his pocket; but that is of little consequence. It is not money that makes a man succeed in life, but the want of it. In the world, a man who begins with money generally ends by losing it.
Being appointed to a district, Cooke found there was great delay, and some expense, before he could act as an exciseman; he therefore took the situation of porter to a sugar-baker, p. 135and, in course of time, became a journeyman. Here he did not neglect his appointment to the excise36, but reserved sufficient time to himself to give it every necessary attention. By attending on the superior of the district in which he was to act, and by the money he saved while in the service of the sugar-baker, Cooke was at length enabled to assume the dignity to which he had so long aspired39. Being appointed to inspect the exciseable concerns of a paper-mill and manufactory near Tottenham, Cooke was exceedingly well pleased; for, being already versed40 in some parts of the trade from the knowledge he had acquired at Norwich, he was desirous of learning those secrets in the trade to which he was still a stranger. During the time he was officially employed in this concern, the master of the paper-mills and manufactory died. The widow, however, by the advice of her friends, carried on the business with the assistance of the foreman. Cooke’s knowledge of the business, but particularly the regularity41 with which he rendered his accounts to the Board of Excise, induced the commissioners42 to continue him in the employ. In the meantime he took a regular and exact account of sundry43 infractions of the laws, which, either from design or inadvertence, were daily committed in this paper manufactory. Having calculated the value of the concern, and the several thousand pounds the penalties incurred44 by frauds on the revenue would amount to, he seized the opportunity of privately45 informing the widow, that the penalties, if levied46, would amount to more than double the value of all her property, and expose her to beggary and the King’s Bench. He assured her that the frauds which had been at different times committed were only known to himself, and suddenly proposed marriage to her as the only means of insuring his secrecy47. The widow, no doubt, convinced of the truth of the statement, and seeing in Cooke a man of comely48 countenance49 and of good figure, gave him a favourable50 answer, but suggested the propriety51 of deferring52 the marriage till the time allotted53 to the mourning for her first husband had expired. Cooke agreed to this delay, having taken care to obtain her consent and promise on parchment. At length his marriage with this lady took place, and Cooke became possessed of all her property, which was very large, and particularly of the mills at Tottenham, which were on a lease to her former husband. On the expiration54 of the lease, he p. 136applied to the proprietors55 for a renewal56 of it; but, in consequence of a previous treaty, the premises57 were, to his great mortification58, let to another person. He next purchased a large sugar concern in Puddle59 Dock, and, as he knew something of the business, flattered himself that he would he able to add rapidly to his already large fortune. Here he carried his former habits of parsimony60 and abstemiousness61 to the utmost extent.
At this time his artfulness and meanness seem to have quite gained the upper hand. One of his plans was to have his table well supplied by the generosity62 of other people. His colloquial63 powers were admirable. In his latter days it was his practice, when he had marked out any one for his prey64, to find his way, by some means or other, into the house, by pretending to fall down in a fit, or asking permission to enter and sit down, in order to prevent its coming on. No humane65 person could well refuse admission to a man in apparent distress66, of respectable appearance, whose well-powdered wig67 and long ruffles68 induced a belief that he was some decayed citizen of better days. The host would soon learn that this was the rich Mr. Cooke, the sugar-baker, worth £100,000; and this would lead to an introduction to the family, all of whom the artful sugar-baker would pretend to admire, asking the fond mamma particularly for their names all in writing. The parents, of course, considered that there could be but one motive69 for asking such a question, and the consequence was, as he pursued the plan with a score or two of people, that so great was the quantity of poultry70, game, vegetables, and provisions of every kind which used to be sent him, that it did not cost him in housekeeping, for himself and his domestics, more than fifteen-pence a-day on an average; but it was considered as great extravagance when the expenses of a day amounted to as much as two shillings.
Alas71! however, in spite of all his parsimony, the sugar-baking business did not pay. At the end of twelve months he found himself considerably72 the poorer. This would never do; and in order to discover the secrets of the trade to which he had been a stranger, he was induced to invite several sugar-bakers to dine with him, and, after plying73 them with plenty of wine, he put questions to some of the younger and more unguarded of the trade, who, in a state of intoxication74, made the desirable discoveries. His wife, astonished at his being so unusually p. 137generous, expressed her apprehensions75 about the expenses of the wine, but he told her he would suck as much of the brains—his usual phrase—of some of the fools as would amply repay him. His wife was as much a victim as any one else. She died of a broken heart. After he had retired from business, Cooke went to reside in Winchester Street, Pentonville, where he cultivated his own cabbages on a plot of ground which had been originally laid out for a garden. To get manure76 for his cabbages he would sally out on moonlight nights, with a little shovel77 and a basket, and take up the horse-dung that had been dropped in the course of the day in the City Road. He seldom passed by a pump without taking a hearty78 drink. In his daily visits to the Bank, he regaled himself at the pump near the Royal Exchange. He was in the constant habit of pocketing the Bank paper, as he never bought anything if he could get it for nothing.
Notwithstanding Cooke’s inordinate80 love of money, he was fond of amusement. It was said of Gilpin’s wife, that—
It seems the same could be said of Cooke. For instance, he was very fond of going to Epsom races. But these excursions never cost him anything, for he always took care to fasten himself upon some of those people whom he used to buoy83 up with assurances of making them his heirs. Thus he had his ride to Epsom in his friend’s gig and back to town, his bed during the time of the races, his meals, and every other accommodation at the expense of his fellow-traveller, to whom, for all this treating, he never had the generosity to offer so much as a bottle of wine in return.
Cooke died as he had lived, a pauper84 in heart. To the last he cheated everybody. In 1811, he took to his bed, and sent for several medical men in the hope of obtaining some relief; but all knew him so well that not one would attend, except Mr. Aldridge, who resided close by. Cooke permitted this gentleman to send some medicine. On his last visit the old man very earnestly entreated85 him to say candidly86 how long he thought he might live. Mr. Aldridge answered that he might last six days. Cooke collected as much of his exhausted87 strength as he could, raised himself in his bed, and, darting88 a look of keenest indignation at the surgeon, exclaimed, p. 138“And are not you a dishonest man, a rogue89, a robber to serve me so?” “How, sir?” asked the doctor, with surprise. “Why, sir, you are no better than a pickpocket90 to rob me of my gold by sending two draughts91 a-day to a man that all your physic will not keep alive for above six days. Get out of my house, and never come near me again.” During the last days of his existence he was extremely weak, and employed his few remaining hours in arranging matters with his creditors92. Some short time before his death, one of his executors observed to him that he had omitted to remember his two servants in his will; the one who had served him as his housekeeper93 and nurse faithfully for upwards94 of ten years; the other who used to lead him about the streets, particularly to the Exchange Pump, to regale79 himself, and who was also a good nurse during the time she lived with him; but Cooke answered, “Let them be paid their wages to the day of my death—nothing more.” On the gentleman remonstrating95 on the very great injustice96 it would be not to leave them something, all he could obtain was twenty-five pounds for one and ten pounds for the other, and even from that twenty-five, after his friend had left the room, he took the will and struck out the word five. He treated Dr. Lettisom quite as shabbily. In order to evince his gratitude97, he told the doctor that he would make an ample donation to any public charity which he should recommend. After the doctor had taken the pains to explain to him the objects of different charitable institutions, Cooke fixed98 upon the Humane Society for the Recovery of the Apparently99 Dead, intimating, at the same time, the extent of his fortune, and confirming it by bringing his will in his pocket, which he submitted to the doctor’s inspection100. About three weeks before his decease, he confidently assured Dr. Lettisom that, besides the ample provision he had made for his numerous relatives and friends, and his two maid-servants, and still more ample bequests101 to almshouses, he was in possession of a surplus fund of £40,000 unappropriated, and desired the doctor to specify102 such hospitals and dispensaries as he deemed most in want of funds their support. The doctor gave himself an immense of trouble in the matter, but all to no purpose, the will was read, it was found that he had left but pounds to the Royal Humane Society, and to the doctor, for all the trouble and plague he had given him, a plain gold ring.
p. 139“Thus lived and died,” writes his biographer, “unpitied and unlamented, in the eighty-sixth year of his age, and possessed of a property of £127,205 Three per Cent. Consolidated103 Bank Annuities104, a man whose life was chequered with as few good actions as ever fell to the share of any person that has lived to an advanced age.”
It is not often that money is made by gambling105; yet now and then this is the case. General Scott, the father-in-law of George Canning and the Duke of Portland, was known to have won at White’s £200,000, thanks to his notorious sobriety and knowledge of the game of whist. The general possessed a great advantage over his companions by avoiding those indulgences at the table which used to muddle106 other men’s brains. He confined himself to dining off a boiled chicken, with toast-and-water. By such a regimen he came to the whist-table with a clear head, and possessing, as he did, a remarkable107 memory, with great coolness of judgment108, he was enabled honestly to win the sum of £200,000. If the general was not an eccentric money-getter, he evidently got his money in an eccentric way.
Equally successful was the millionaire Crockford, who was originally a fishmonger, keeping a shop near Temple Bar. His fortune was all made at his gambling-house in fifteen or sixteen years. A vast sum, perhaps half a million, was sometimes due to him; but as he won all his debtors109 were able to raise, and gave credit, it was hard for men of fashion, fond of play, to keep out of his lures110. He retired in 1840, much as an Indian chief retires from a hunting country when there is not game enough left for his tribe; and the club, which bore his name, tottered111 to its fall. It really seems that at that time there were no more very high players visiting the place. It was said that there were persons of rank and station who had never paid their debts to Crockford up to 1844.
Morissey, the well-known American gambler, has passed away. At one time he kept a small drinking-saloon of the lowest character. So disreputable was the place that it was closed by the authorities. Morissey was also a prize-fighter. Drunken, brutal112, without friends or money, he came from Troy to New York to see what would turn up. At that time an election was in progress; and elections were carried by brute113 force. There was no registry law; and the p. 140injunction to vote early and vote often was literally114 obeyed. In such a city, and at such a time, Morissey was in his element. Having acquired a little money, he opened a place for play. He became thoroughly115 temperate116. He resolved to behave well, to be sober, and not gamble. Those resolutions he carried out. His house in New York was the most elegantly furnished of any of the kind in the State; the table, the attendants, and the cooking, were of the first order. He followed his patrons to Saratoga, and opened there what was called a club-house; judges, senators, merchants, bankers, millionaires, became his guests: the disguise was soon thrown off, and the club-house assumed the form of a first-class gambling-house at the Springs. Horse-racing and attendant games followed, all bringing custom and profit to Morissey’s establishment; and thus he amassed117 a large fortune, and died in the odour of respectability which wealth confers. Morissey, as Congress man, was not exactly a working member. When he first went to Washington, Mr. Colfax hardly knew on which of the committees of the House it would be best to put him; so he said, in a very apologetic tone, “Well, Mr. Morissey, I should be very glad to oblige in regard to a great many old members, and all the best places belong by right to them. Still, I will see what I can do for you.” “Well, Mr. Speaker,” said the new member, “I am pretty particular; but 1 will, at any rate, tell you what I want. If there is a committee that has no committee-room, never has any business sent to it, and never meets, I should like to be put on the tail-end of that committee. How does it strike you?” “You relieve me wonderfully,” said Mr. Colfax. “I will put you on the Committee of Revolutionary Pensions.”
Another case of that rarity, a successful gambler, is thus described in “Sunshine and Shadow,” in New York:—“A man lives in the upper part of this city, and in fine style. He is reputed to be worth 500,000 dollars. He came to New York penniless. He decided118 to take up play as a business; not to keep a gambling-house, but to play every night as a trade. He made certain rules which he has kept over thirty years. He would avoid all forms of licentiousness119, would attend church regularly on Sunday, would avoid all low, disreputable company, would drink no kind of intoxicating120 liquors, wine or ale, would neither smoke nor p. 141chew, would go nightly to his play as a man would go to his office or his trade, would play as long as he won, or until the bank broke, would lose a certain sum and no more; when he lost that he would stop playing, and leave the room for the night; if he lost ten nights, he would wait till his luck changed;” and this system he followed exactly, while tens of thousands around him were carried away into irretrievable ruin.
As I write I see the report of a peculiar121 case heard in Dublin, before Chief Justice Morris and a special jury; and, as the Times’ correspondent informs us, some very curious revelations were made in the course of the hearing. The action was brought by a Mr. Kavanagh to recover £7,000 on account of work and labour alleged122 to have been done by the plaintiff in his capacity of manager to the defendant123, a Mr. Henry Lindsay, a bill-discounter, who, it was stated, did business to the extent of £20,000 to £30,000 a month, and who lived alone in a large house in a respectable street, sleeping on a stretcher, and having bills on the house announcing it as to be let, in order that he might avoid, as he actually succeeded in avoiding, the payment of rates, on the plea that he was merely caretaker of the house. It also came out that defendant, who was advanced in years, had recently paid £5,000 to compromise an action for breach124 of promise of marriage. So the old gentleman had a soft side after all!
One of the great millionaires of France was Ouvrard, the financier—a man sprung from a very humble125 origin, but of great financial capacity. During his long career of success, which lasted from the latter part of the last century till 1830, he made and spent millions of money. He was ruined by making large sales in the funds, under the expectation that the government of Louis Philippe could not stand. He was born in 1770; and his first operation, which consisted in buying up all the paper made in Poitou and Angoumois, and retailing126 it at an immense profit to the Paris booksellers, laid the foundation of his fortune. He soon afterwards made a contract for provisioning the Spanish fleet, which had joined the French squadron in 1797, and made a net profit of £600,000. In 1800, he was supposed to possess a million and a-half of English money. Soon after he had the contract for supplying the French army in the campaign which closed p. 142with the battle of Marengo. His prosperity continued for many years; and in 1812, the government owed him, for enormous advances made by him, nearly three millions of English money. He was Munitionnaire-Général for the Waterloo campaign; and, in 1828, contracted to supply the Duc d’Angoulême with everything necessary for the entry of the French army into Spain; but the misfulfilment of his contract entailed127 heavy losses on him, and in 1830 he was completely ruined.
No man was more reckless in his expenditure128, nor more magnificent in his manner of living. At the time of the Directory, the fêtes given by him were the theme of the whole of Parisian society at that time. At his splendid villa27 near Rueil, during the Empire, he was in the habit of giving suppers to all the corps129 de ballet of the opera twice a-week, and he used to send several carriages, splendidly equipped, to bear away the principal performers when the performance was over. There an enormous white marble bath, as large as an ordinary-sized saloon, was prepared for such of the ladies as, in the summer, chose to bathe on their arrival. There a splendid supper was laid out, of which the fair bathers and many of the pleasure-seekers of the day partook; and, besides every luxury of the culinary art, prepared by the best cooks in Paris, each lady received a donation of fifty louis, and the one fortunate enough to attract the especial notice of the wealthy host a large sum of money. Mademoiselle Georges, the celebrated130 tragedian of that day, cost him, as he was fond of relating, a large sum of money. He had invited her to sup with him at his villa; but the very day she was to come, a note informed him that she was compelled to give up the pleasure of supping with him, as the Emperor Napoleon had given her a rendezvous131 for the same time, which she dared not refuse. Ouvrard was furious at this contretemps, and he could not bear to yield the pas to le petit Bonaparte, whom he had known as a young captain of artillery132, too happy to be invited to his house in the days of the Directory; and under this feeling, with a hint to the lady that she would find 100,000 francs served up at supper, he prevailed on the actress to give the emperor the slip. The following day the great financier received a summons forthwith to appear at the Tuileries, and was ushered133 into the emperor’s presence. After walking once or twice up and down the room, the great man turned p. 143sharp round on his unwilling134 guest, and, with his eagle eye riveted135 on Ouvrard’s face, sternly demanded, “Monsieur, how much did you make by your contract for the army at the beginning of the year?” The capitalist knew it was vain to equivocate136, and replied, “4,000,000 francs, sire.” “Then, sir, you made too much; so pay immediately 2,000,000 francs into the treasury137.” And Ouvrard, says old Captain Gronow, who tells the story, immediately did—much, probably, to his vexation and disgust.
Before the French Revolution, the largest fortunes in France were possessed by the farmers of the revenue, or fermiers généraux. Their profits were enormous, and their probity138 was very doubtful. It is related, that one evening at Ferney, when the company were telling stories of robbers, they asked their host, Voltaire, for one on the same subject. The great man, taking up his flat candlestick, as when about to retire, began—“There was once upon a time a fermier général—I have forgotten the rest.”
In the Bagot will case we see another illustration of the way in which money is made, and the dissipation and extravagance to which it leads. Mr. Bagot, a colonial adventurer, returned to Ireland with the reputation of enormous wealth, and married the daughter of a baronet. Paralysed as he was, a son was born to him, which he disowned. The Bagot case ended in a verdict setting aside the late Mr. Bagot’s will, and disinheriting the infant son, and thus Mrs. Bagot was in a measure legally rehabilitated140. The disclosures at the trial, however, revealed a panorama141 of years of extravagance, folly142, and riot, which is, we trust, exceptional. The whole story of the Australian millionaire, Mr. Bagot, is fraught143 with details that can only disgust; and it would have been much better if the public had been spared recitals144 which, however entertaining to frivolous145 persons, can hardly serve any good purpose by the extraordinary publicity146 they have now gained. Should a new trial take place, a good deal of the money must pass into the lawyers’ hands.
Not long ago the death was announced of M. Basilewski, the Rothschild of Russia, which took place at St. Petersburg, at the age of ninety-two. The deceased, who was the father of Princess Souvaroff, was the owner of gold mines in Siberia, which have already produced for him more than 100,000,000 of francs.
p. 144In America, even literary men, if they have luck, make money. It is reported of “Josh Billings” (Henry W. Shaw) that he made more money than almost any American author by persistent147 working of his peculiar vein148 of humour. Some years he got as much as 4,000 dollars from a weekly newspaper for exclusive contributions: he made 5,000 or 6,000 dollars by lecturing, and had a profit from his almanack of 8,000 or 9,000 dollars more—18,000 to 20,000 dollars per annum. That is five or six times as much as Emerson, Hawthorne, Lowell, or Holmes had ever made.
One of the most marvellous careers in London is that of Baron139 Grant, who commenced his city life as a clerk in a wine-merchant’s office in Mark Lane, and whose capacity in the way of “financing” and “promoting public companies” appears to have been unrivalled. Of course he made himself many enemies; but that is the way of the world. The men who are the first to fling stones at a successful rival, and to call him hard names, are the men who morally have no claim to be censors149 on the ground of higher principle or superior virtue150. It is thus the unlucky ones revenge themselves on their luckier rivals. They are prone151 to hit a man when he is risen in the world. Nowhere is there more lack of charity, or more evil speaking of one another, than in the circles where Mammon is king, and where the great object of life is held to be the art of money-getting and money-making.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
gutter
|
|
| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
metropolitan
|
|
| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
gratis
|
|
| adj.免费的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
ransack
|
|
| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
strings
|
|
| n.弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
residue
|
|
| n.残余，剩余，残渣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
moiety
|
|
| n.一半；部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
attic
|
|
| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
afflicting
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
eccentricity
|
|
| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
propensity
|
|
| n.倾向；习性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
misers
|
|
| 守财奴，吝啬鬼( miser的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
affront
|
|
| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
penurious
|
|
| adj.贫困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
savings
|
|
| n.存款，储蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
corruption
|
|
| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
watt
|
|
| n.瓦，瓦特 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
embarked
|
|
| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
itinerant
|
|
| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
earnings
|
|
| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
usher
|
|
| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
maturity
|
|
| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
warehouse
|
|
| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
excise
|
|
| n.(国产)货物税；vt.切除，删去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
waggon
|
|
| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
aspired
|
|
| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
versed
|
|
| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
regularity
|
|
| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
commissioners
|
|
| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
sundry
|
|
| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
incurred
|
|
| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
levied
|
|
| 征（兵）( levy的过去式和过去分词 )； 索取； 发动（战争）； 征税 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
deferring
|
|
| v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的现在分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
allotted
|
|
| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
expiration
|
|
| n.终结，期满，呼气，呼出物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
proprietors
|
|
| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
renewal
|
|
| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
mortification
|
|
| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
puddle
|
|
| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
parsimony
|
|
| n.过度节俭，吝啬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
abstemiousness
|
|
| n.适中，有节制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
colloquial
|
|
| adj.口语的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
humane
|
|
| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
wig
|
|
| n.假发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
ruffles
|
|
| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
poultry
|
|
| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
plying
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
intoxication
|
|
| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
apprehensions
|
|
| 疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
manure
|
|
| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
shovel
|
|
| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
regale
|
|
| v.取悦，款待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
inordinate
|
|
| adj.无节制的；过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
frugal
|
|
| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
buoy
|
|
| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
pauper
|
|
| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
entreated
|
|
| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
candidly
|
|
| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
rogue
|
|
| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
pickpocket
|
|
| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
draughts
|
|
| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
creditors
|
|
| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
remonstrating
|
|
| v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 )；告诫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
bequests
|
|
| n.遗赠( bequest的名词复数 )；遗产，遗赠物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
specify
|
|
| vt.指定，详细说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
consolidated
|
|
| a.联合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
annuities
|
|
| n.养老金；年金( annuity的名词复数 )；（每年的）养老金；年金保险；年金保险投资 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
gambling
|
|
| n.赌博；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
muddle
|
|
| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
debtors
|
|
| n.债务人，借方( debtor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
lures
|
|
| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
tottered
|
|
| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
temperate
|
|
| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
amassed
|
|
| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
licentiousness
|
|
| n.放肆，无法无天 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
intoxicating
|
|
| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
alleged
|
|
| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
defendant
|
|
| n.被告；adj.处于被告地位的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
retailing
|
|
| n.零售业v.零售(retail的现在分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
entailed
|
|
| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
corps
|
|
| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
rendezvous
|
|
| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
artillery
|
|
| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
ushered
|
|
| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
riveted
|
|
| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
equivocate
|
|
| v.模棱两可地，支吾其词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
treasury
|
|
| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
probity
|
|
| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
baron
|
|
| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
rehabilitated
|
|
| 改造（罪犯等）( rehabilitate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使恢复正常生活； 使恢复原状； 修复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
panorama
|
|
| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
fraught
|
|
| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
recitals
|
|
| n.独唱会( recital的名词复数 )；独奏会；小型音乐会、舞蹈表演会等；一系列事件等的详述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
frivolous
|
|
| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
publicity
|
|
| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
censors
|
|
| 删剪（书籍、电影等中被认为犯忌、违反道德或政治上危险的内容）( censor的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
prone
|
|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |