I have been now in touch with three generations of Irish priests, each as distinct from the other, and marked by as distinctive20 characteristics, as those which differentiate21 an Anglican parson from a mediæval monk22. My early education was colored by contact with the polished, studious, timid priests, who, educated in Continental23 seminaries, introduced into Ireland all the grace and dignity and holiness, and all the dread24 of secular25 authority with the slight tendency to compromise, that seemed to have marked the French clergy26, at least in the years immediately succeeding the revolutions and the Napoleonic wars. These were the good men who fraternized with landlords, and lent their congregations to a neighboring parson on the occasion of some governmental visitation; who were slightly tinged27 with Gallican ideas, and hated progress and the troubles that always accompany it. They were holy, good, kindly men, but they could hardly be called officers of the Church Militant28. Then came Maynooth, which, founded on governmental subsidies29, poured from its gates the strongest, fiercest, most fearless army of priests that ever fought for the spiritual and temporal interests of the people,—men of large physique and iron constitutions, who spent ten hours a day on horseback, despised French claret, loved their people and chastised30 them like fathers, but were prepared to defend them with their lives and the outpouring of their blood against their hereditary31 enemies. Intense in their faith, of stainless32 lives and spotless reputations, their words cut like razors, and their hands smote33 like lightning; but they had the hearts of mothers for the little ones of their flocks. They had the classics at their fingers' ends, could roll out lines from Virgil or Horace at an after-dinner speech, and had a profound contempt for English literature. In theology they were rigorists, too much disposed to defer34 absolution and to give long penances35. They had a cordial dislike for new devotions, believing that Christmas and Easter Communion was quite enough for ordinary sancity. Later on they became more generous, but they clung with tenacity36 to the Brown Scapular and the First Sunday of the month. I am quite sure they have turned somersaults in their graves since the introduction of the myriad37 devotions that are now distracting and edifying38 the faithful. But they could make, and, alas39! too often perhaps for Christian40 modesty41, they did make, the proud boast that they kept alive the people's faith, imbued42 them with a sense of the loftiest morality, and instilled43 a sense of intense horror for such violations44 of Church precepts45 as a communicatio cum hereticis in divinis, or the touching46 of flesh meat on a day of abstinence. I believe I belong to that school, though my sympathies are wide enough for all. And as in theology, I am quite prepared to embrace Thomists, and Scotists, and Molinists, Nominalists and Realists in fraternal charity, so, too, am I prepared to recognize and appreciate the traits and characteristics of the different generations of clerics in the Irish Church. Sometimes, perhaps, through the vanity that clings to us all to the end, I play the part of "laudator temporis acti," and then the young fellows shout:—
"Ah, but, Father Dan, they were giants in those days."
And the tags and shreds47 of poor human nature wave in the wind of flattery; and I feel grateful for the modest appreciation48 of a generation that has no sympathy with our own.
Then, down there, below the water-line of gray heads is the coming generation of Irish priests, who, like the λαμπαδηφοροι of old in the Athenian games, will take the torch of faith from our hands and carry it to the Acropolis of Heaven,—clean-cut, small of stature49, keen-faced, bicycle-riding, coffee-drinking, encyclopædic young fellows, who will give a good account of themselves, I think, in the battles of the near future. It is highly amusing to a disinterested50 spectator, like myself, to watch the tolerant contempt with which the older generation regards the younger. They have as much contempt for coffee as for ceremonies, and I think their mistakes in the latter would form a handsome volume of errata, or add another appendix to our valuable compendiums51. To ask one of these old men to pass a cup of coffee is equivalent to asking a Hebrew of the strict observance to carve a ham, or a Hindoo to eat from the same dish with a Christian. And many other objects that the passing generation held in high esteem52 are "gods of the Gentiles" to the younger. They laugh profanely53 at that aureole of distinction that used hang around the heads of successful students, declaring that a man's education only commences when he leaves college, and that his academical training was but the sword exercise of the gymnasium; and they speak dreadful things about evolution and modern interpretation54, and the new methods of hermeneutics, and polychrome Bibles; and they laugh at the idea of the world's creation in six days; and altogether, they disturb and disquiet55 the dreams of the staid and stately veterans of the Famine years, and make them forecast a dismal56 future for Ireland when German metaphysics and coffee will first impair57, and then destroy, the sacred traditions of Irish faith. And yet, these young priests inherit the best elements of the grand inheritance that has come down to them. Their passionate58 devotion to their faith is only rivalled by their passionate devotion to the Motherland. Every one of them belongs to that great world-wide organization of Priests Adorers, which, cradled in the dying years of our century, will grow to a gigantic stature in the next; for at last it has dawned upon the world that around this sacred doctrine59 and devotion, as around an oriflamme, the great battles of the twentieth century will rage. And they have as tender and passionate a love for the solitary60 isle61 in the wintry western seas as ever brought a film to the eyes of exile, or lighted the battle fires in the hearts of her heroes and kings. And with all my ancient prejudices in favor of my own caste, I see clearly that the equipments of the new generation are best suited to modern needs. The bugle-call of the future will sound the retreat for the ancient cavalry62 and the Old Guard, and sing out, Forward the Light Brigade!
This evening, as usual, the conversation was discursive63. It ranged over the whole area of human knowledge and experience, from the price of a horse to Lehmkuhl's Latinity, and from the last political speech to the everlasting64 question, ever discussed and never decided65, What is meant by the month's residence as a condition for the acquisition of a domicile? That horrible drug was irritating the nerves of the younger men, until I heard, as in a dream, a Babel of voices:—"The two Ballerini,"—"They'll never arrest him,"—"He'll certainly fire on the people,"—"Daniel never wrote that book, I tell you,"—"'T is only a ringbone,"—"Fifty times worse than a sprain,"—"He got it in the Gregorian University,"—"Paddy Murray, George Crolly,"—"I admire Balfour for his profound knowledge of metaphysics,"—"Did you see the article in the Record about the Spanish dispensation?"—"He's got a first-class mission in Ballarat,"—"No, the lessons were from the Scripture66 occurring,"—"I don't think we're bound to these Masses,"—"'Twas a fine sermon, but too flowery for my tastes,"—"Yes, we expect a good Shrove this year,"—"His Data of Ethics67 won't stand examination,"—"Our fellows will lick yours well next time,"—"Picking the grapes and lemons at Tivoli,"—"Poor old Kirby, what an age he is,"—"'Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark, And may there be no sadness of farewell, when I embark,' that's the way it runs,"—"He cut in his physic year, and is running a paper in Boston,"—"It is up now to thirty-five shillings a ton, and will go higher," etc., etc. The older men, under the more kindly influence, were calm as sophomores68. Amidst the whirlpool of words, they clung to two sheet-anchors,—O'Connell in politics, and St. Alphonsus in theology.
At last, the conversation simmered down into an academic debate, whether the centripetal70 system, which concentrates all Irish students in Maynooth, or the centrifugal, which sends them scampering71 over the Continent to the ancient universities, was the better. This was a calm, judicious72 tournament, except now and again, when I had to touch the gong, and say:—
"Gentlemen, only three at a time, if you please."
It was a curious thing to notice that those who had studied in Maynooth were very much in favor of a Continental education; and those who had been in foreign universities were rather inclined to give the verdict for Maynooth.
"You see," said one, "it is an education in itself to go abroad. It means expansion, and expansion is education. Then you have the immense advantage of being able to learn and master the foreign languages and literature, and nowadays a man that can't speak French at least is a very helpless creature."
"You take it for granted," replied another, "that residence abroad insures a knowledge of French. I spent six years in the seminary at N——, and except cela va sans dire73, tant pis, and a few other colloquialisms74, which you will find on the last page of an English dictionary, I might as well have been in Timbuctoo."
"Well," said my curate,—and though he is not very popular, somehow or other his words appear to carry great weight,—"I must confess that the regret of my life is that I had not an opportunity of studying in Rome, just as the hope of my life is that I shall see Rome before I die. I consider that the greatest Irish college in the world, in numbers and in the influence that arises from intellectual superiority, should be somewhere within the shadows of the Seven Hills."
"Why not transfer the Dunboyne, with all its endowments and emoluments75, to Rome?" asked a young, eager fellow, who says he can read the Office, going ten miles an hour on the bicycle.
"'T wouldn't ever do," said a Roman student; "you must be brought up in Rome to understand its spirit. Transplanted shoots never thrive there."
"Psha!" said an old Maynooth man, who had been listening impatiently to these suggestions; "we forgot more theology in Maynooth than you ever learned."
"I don't want to disparage76 your knowledge of theology, Father," said my curate, sweetly, "but you know there are other elements in priestly education besides the mere69 propositions, and the solvuntur objecta of theology. And it is in Rome these subtle and almost intangible accomplishments77 are acquired."
Now, this was getting a little warm; so I winked78 at a young fellow down along the table, and he took the hint promptly79, and cried out: "Look here, Father Dan, this is tiresome80. Tell us how you managed the Irish Brigade in France in the fifties. Weren't they going to throw Marseilles into the sea?"
"Now, now," said I, "that won't do. I'm not going to be trotting81 out that old chestnut82 at every dinner party. Let us have a song!"
And we had, and a good many of them,—dear, old Irish melodies that would melt an icicle and put blood into a marble statue. No nonsense at my table, I assure you. No operatic rubbish, but genuine Irish music, with the right lilt and the right sentiment. I did let a young fellow once sing, "I Dreamt that I Dwelt in Marble Halls"; but I told him never to repeat it. But it was worth while going miles to hear my curate singing, in his own fine voice, that superb ballad83 of that true and gentle patriot84, Thomas Davis, "The Mess-tent is Full, and the Glasses are Set."
Dear me! what a mercurial85 race we are; and how the mercury runs up and down in the barometer86 of our human hearts! I could see the young priests' faces whitening at the words:
So pale grew the chiefs of the Irish Brigade!"
"For, on far foreign fields, from Dunkirk to Belgrade,
Lie the soldiers and chiefs of the Irish Brigade."
Then we had "The West's Awake," and "Dear Land," and then we all arose and sang together, "God bless the Pope, the great, the good." I was going to say "sang in unison," but I am afraid I should be trespassing89 on the sacred precincts of truth; yet if that grand old man in Rome, that electric spark in the vase of alabaster90, sitting in that lonely chamber91, behind the long, empty, gas-lit state apartments, could hear those voices there above the western seas, he would surely realize more keenly what he understands already, that he can always call upon his Irish reserves to ring, as with a fence of steel, the chair and the prerogatives92 of Peter.
Then came the "Good nights." I pulled aside an old friend, a great theologian, who has all kinds of musty, dusty, leather-bound, water-stained volumes on his shelves.
"Did you ever hear," I whispered, "of a mysterious thing, called the Kampaner Thal?"
"Never," he said, emphatically.
"You couldn't conjecture93 what it is?"
"Would you mind looking up your cyclopædias," I pleaded, "and letting me know immediately that you find it?"
"Of course," he replied. Then, jerking his thumb over his shoulder: "I suppose it is this chap?"
"It is," I said. "He reads a good deal—"
"Look here, Father Dan, I don't know what we're coming to. Did you ever see such a sight as that table to-night?"
"Never," I replied, resignedly.
"Would any one believe, when we came on the mission, that we'd live to see such things? Why, these fellows talk up to us as if we were their equals. Don't you remember when a curate daren't open his mouth at table?"
"And it is only now I am beginning to discover the vagaries96 of this chap of mine. Do you know what he wants? A shrine97, if you please,—some kind of picture, with candles lighting98 before it all day. 'Can't you say your Rosary,' I said, 'like your betters?' No, he should have the shrine. And now he wants to force on Benediction99 every Sunday,—not every first Sunday of the month, but every Sunday, if you please. And he has a big red lamp, burning in what he calls his oratory100. You can see it miles away. I say to the boys, 'Don't be afraid to put to sea at night now, boys. Begor, ye 've got a lighthouse at last.' Well, good by! What's this thing you want?"
And he jotted101 down the name, I presume phonetically102, in his note-book. Now, mind, that man has not had a scandal in his parish for fourteen years; and he is up to his neck in securities for half the farmers of the district.
All this time, shrinking into an obscure corner of the hall, was my Curé d'Ars, as I call him. He now came forward to say good night, his thin face wreathed in smiles, and his two hands stretched out in thankfulness.
"Good night, Father Dan, and a thousand thanks. I never spent a pleasanter evening. What fine young fellows! So clever, so jolly, and so edifying! Won't it be a satisfaction for us when we are going to leave behind us such splendid safeguards of the faith?"
His curate was waiting respectfully. He now got the little man into his great-coat, and buttoned it from collar to boot, the latter murmuring his thanks all the time:—
"Dear me! dear me! what a trouble I am! Many thanks! Many thanks! There, now I am all right!"
Then his muffler was wrapped carefully around his neck by this big grenadier, and his gloves were drawn103 over his hands.
"Dear me! dear me! how good! how kind! I'm a regular mummy! a real Egyptian mummy, Father Dan! Good night! good night! Dear me, what a pleasant gathering104!"
And the stalwart curate lifted him on his car, as if he were an infant.
A few days later we had a long chat over many things, I and my curate.
When he was going he said:—
"That was a real jolly evening, Father Dan! I never enjoyed anything so much!"
"Yes," I said, "and you had a splendid audience for that noble song!"
"Yes, indeed; they were very kind."
"Oh, I don't mean in foro interno," I said, "but in foro externo. There was a good crowd outside the window!"
"My God!" he cried, quite shocked. "What a scandal!"
"Not a bit of it," I said; "you've gone up a hundred per cent in the estimation of the villagers. There was a real fight for the window-sill. But your friend, Jem Deady, captured it."
He looked dreadfully annoyed.
"Jem says that he kept awake all night trying to remember the notes; and if you'd give him the words of the song and whistle it—"
"What!" said Father Letheby, like a pistol-shot.
"And if you'd give him two or three audiences—I suppose he means rehearsals105 on the piano—he is quite sure—"
Dear me! how some people despise popularity!
点击收听单词发音
1 prescriptions | |
药( prescription的名词复数 ); 处方; 开处方; 计划 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 bishops | |
(基督教某些教派管辖大教区的)主教( bishop的名词复数 ); (国际象棋的)象 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 softens | |
(使)变软( soften的第三人称单数 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 asperities | |
n.粗暴( asperity的名词复数 );(表面的)粗糙;(环境的)艰苦;严寒的天气 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 reverently | |
adv.虔诚地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 muses | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的第三人称单数 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 apprehensions | |
疑惧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 longevity | |
n.长命;长寿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 avocations | |
n.业余爱好,嗜好( avocation的名词复数 );职业 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 engrossed | |
adj.全神贯注的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 distinctive | |
adj.特别的,有特色的,与众不同的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 differentiate | |
vi.(between)区分;vt.区别;使不同 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 continental | |
adj.大陆的,大陆性的,欧洲大陆的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 secular | |
n.牧师,凡人;adj.世俗的,现世的,不朽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 tinged | |
v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 militant | |
adj.激进的,好斗的;n.激进分子,斗士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 subsidies | |
n.补贴,津贴,补助金( subsidy的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 chastised | |
v.严惩(某人)(尤指责打)( chastise的过去式 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 stainless | |
adj.无瑕疵的,不锈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 smote | |
v.猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 defer | |
vt.推迟,拖延;vi.(to)遵从,听从,服从 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 penances | |
n.(赎罪的)苦行,苦修( penance的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 tenacity | |
n.坚韧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 edifying | |
adj.有教训意味的,教训性的,有益的v.开导,启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 imbued | |
v.使(某人/某事)充满或激起(感情等)( imbue的过去式和过去分词 );使充满;灌输;激发(强烈感情或品质等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 instilled | |
v.逐渐使某人获得(某种可取的品质),逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 violations | |
违反( violation的名词复数 ); 冒犯; 违反(行为、事例); 强奸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 precepts | |
n.规诫,戒律,箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 shreds | |
v.撕碎,切碎( shred的第三人称单数 );用撕毁机撕毁(文件) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 disinterested | |
adj.不关心的,不感兴趣的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 compendiums | |
n.摘要,纲要( compendium的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 profanely | |
adv.渎神地,凡俗地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 interpretation | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 disquiet | |
n.担心,焦虑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 impair | |
v.损害,损伤;削弱,减少 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 cavalry | |
n.骑兵;轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 discursive | |
adj.离题的,无层次的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 scripture | |
n.经文,圣书,手稿;Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》,《圣经》中的一段 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 sophomores | |
n.(中等、专科学校或大学的)二年级学生( sophomore的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 centripetal | |
adj.向心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 scampering | |
v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑,惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 judicious | |
adj.明智的,明断的,能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 dire | |
adj.可怕的,悲惨的,阴惨的,极端的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 colloquialisms | |
n.俗话,白话,口语( colloquialism的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 emoluments | |
n.报酬,薪水( emolument的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 disparage | |
v.贬抑,轻蔑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 accomplishments | |
n.造诣;完成( accomplishment的名词复数 );技能;成绩;成就 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 winked | |
v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 tiresome | |
adj.令人疲劳的,令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 trotting | |
小跑,急走( trot的现在分词 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 ballad | |
n.歌谣,民谣,流行爱情歌曲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 patriot | |
n.爱国者,爱国主义者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 mercurial | |
adj.善变的,活泼的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 barometer | |
n.气压表,睛雨表,反应指标 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 prosper | |
v.成功,兴隆,昌盛;使成功,使昌隆,繁荣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 softening | |
变软,软化 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 trespassing | |
[法]非法入侵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 alabaster | |
adj.雪白的;n.雪花石膏;条纹大理石 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 prerogatives | |
n.权利( prerogative的名词复数 );特权;大主教法庭;总督委任组成的法庭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 aver | |
v.极力声明;断言;确证 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 demurely | |
adv.装成端庄地,认真地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 vagaries | |
n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 );异想天开;异常行为;难以预测的情况 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 benediction | |
n.祝福;恩赐 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 jotted | |
v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 );草草记下,匆匆记下 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 phonetically | |
按照发音地,语音学上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 rehearsals | |
n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 );排练;复述;重复 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |