This miracle, it seemed, had been worked entirely5 on milk. The subject of this diet the oldest of the three men continued to discuss in enormous detail. For the rest, it might be said that his pleasures were purely6 arithmetical. Some men count their years with dismay, and he counted his with a juvenile7 vanity. Some men collect stamps or coins, and he collected days. Newspaper men interviewed him about the historic times through which he had lived, without eliciting8 anything whatever; except that he had apparently9 taken to an exclusive milk diet at about the age when most of us leave it off. Asked if he was alive in 1815, he said that was the very year he found it wasn’t any milk, but must be Mountain Milk, like Dr. Meadows says. Nor would his calculating creed10 of life have allowed him to understand you if you had said that in a meadowland oversea that lies before the city of Brussels, boys of his old school in that year gained the love of the gods and died young.
It was the philanthropic Dr. Meadows, of course, who discovered this deathless tribe, and erected11 on it the whole of his great dietetic philosophy, to say nothing of the houses and dairies of Peaceways. He attracted many pupils and backers among the wealthy and influential12; young men who were, so to speak, training for extreme old age, infant old men, embryo13 nonagenarians. It would be an exaggeration to say that they watched joyfully14 for the first white hair as Fascination16 Fledgeby watched for his first whisker; but it is quite true to say that they seemed to have scorned the beauty of woman and the feasting of friends and, above all, the old idea of death with glory; in comparison with this vision of the sports of second childhood.
Peaceways was in its essential plan much like what we call a Garden City; a ring of buildings where the work people did their work, with a pretty ornamental19 town in the centre, where they lived in the open country outside. This was no doubt much healthier than the factory system in the great towns and may have partly accounted for the serene20 expression of Dr. Meadows and his friends, if any part of the credit can be spared from the splendours of Mountain Milk. The place lay far from the common highways of England, and its inhabitants were enabled to enjoy their quiet skies and level woods almost undisturbed, and fully15 absorb whatever may be valuable in the Meadows method and view; until one day a small and very dirty motor drove into the middle of their town. It stopped beside one of those triangular21 islets of grass that are common at forked roads, and two men in goggles23, one tall and the other short, got out and stood on the central space of grass, as if they were buffoons24 about to do tricks. As, indeed, they were.
Before entering the town they had stopped by a splendid mountain stream quickening and thickening rapidly into a river; unhelmed and otherwise eased themselves, eaten a little bread bought at Wyddington and drank the water of the widening current which opened on the valley of Peaceways.
“I’m beginning quite to like water,” said the taller of the two knights25. “I used to think it a most dangerous drink. In theory, of course, it ought only to be given to people who are fainting. It’s really good for them, much better than brandy. Besides, think of wasting good brandy on people who are fainting! But I don’t go so far as I did; I shouldn’t insist on a doctor’s prescription26 before I allow people water. That was the too severe morality of youth; that was my innocence27 and goodness. I thought that if I fell once, water-drinking might become a habit. But I do see the good side of water now. How good it is when you’re really thirsty, how it glitters and gurgles! How alive it is! After all, it’s the best of drinks, after the other. As it says in the song:
“Feast on wine or fast on water,
And your honour shall stand sure;
God Almighty’s son and daughter,
If an angel out of heaven
Brings you other things to drink,
Thank him for his kind intentions,
Go and pour them down the sink.
“Tea is like the East he grows in,
With urbanity of manner,
And unconsciousness of sin;
All the women, like a harem,
At his pig-tail troop along,
And, like all the East he grows in,
He is Poison when he’s strong.
“Tea, although an Oriental,
Is a gentleman at least;
Cocoa is a cad and coward,
Cocoa is a vulgar beast;
Cocoa is a dull, disloyal,
Lying, crawling cad and clown,
And may very well be grateful
To the fool that takes him down.
“As for all the windy waters,
When good drink had been dishonoured31
By the tipplers of the town.
When red wine had brought red ruin,
And the death-dance of our times,
“Upon my soul, this water tastes quite nice. I wonder what vintage now?” and he smacked34 his lips with solemnity. “It tastes just like the year 1881 tasted.”
“You can fancy anything in the tasting way,” returned his shorter companion. “Mr. Jack35, who was always up to his tricks, did serve plain water in those little glasses they drink liqueurs out of, and everyone swore it was a delicious liqueur, and wanted to know where they could get it—all except old Admiral Guffin, who said it tasted too strong of olives. But water’s much the best for our game, certainly.”
Patrick nodded, and then said:
“I doubt if I could do it, if it weren’t for the comfort of looking at that,” and he kicked the rum-keg, “and feeling we shall have a good swig at it some day. It feels like a fairy-tale, carrying that about—as if rum were a pirate’s treasure, as if it were molten gold. Besides, we can have such fun with it with other people—what was that joke I thought of this morning? Oh, I remember! Where’s that milk-can of mine?”
For the next twenty minutes he was industriously36 occupied with his milk-can and the cask; Pump watching him with an interest amounting to anxiety. Lifting his head, however, at the end of that time, he knotted his red brows and said, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” asked the other traveller.
“That!” said Captain Patrick Dalroy, and pointed37 to a figure approaching on the road parallel to the river, “I mean, what’s it for?”
The figure had a longish beard and very long hair falling far below its shoulders. It had a serious and steadfast38 expression. It was dressed in what the inexperienced Mr. Pump at first took to be its night-gown; but afterward39 learned to be its complete goats’ hair tunic40, unmixed even with a thread of the destructive and deadly wool of the sheep. It had no boots on its feet. It walked very swiftly to a particular turn of the stream and then turned very sharply (since it had accomplished41 its constitutional), and walked back toward the perfect town of Peaceways.
“I suppose it’s somebody from that milk place,” said Humphrey Pump, indulgently. “They seem to be pretty mad.”
“I don’t mind that so much,” said Dalroy, “I’m mad myself sometimes. But a madman has only one merit and last link with God. A madman is always logical. Now what is the logical connection between living on milk and wearing your hair long? Most of us lived on milk when we had no hair at all. How do they connect it up? Are there any heads even for a synopsis42? Is it, say, ‘milk—water—shaving-water—shaving—hair?’ Is it ‘milk—kindness—unkindness—convicts—hair?’ What is the logical connection between having too much hair and having far too few boots? What can it be? Is it ‘hair—hair-trunk—leather-trunk—leather-boots?’ Is it ‘hair—beard—oysters—seaside—paddling—no boots?’ Man is liable to err—especially when every mistake he makes is called a movement—but why should all the lunacies live together?”
“Because all the lunatics should live together,” said Humphrey, “and if you’d seen what happened up at Crampton, with the farming-out idea, you’d know. It’s all very well, Captain; but if people can prevent a guest of great importance being buried up to the neck in farm manure43, they will. They will, really.” He coughed almost apologetically. He was about to attempt a resumption of the conversation, when he saw his companion slap the milk-can and keg back into the car, and get into it himself. “You drive,” he said, “drive me where those things live; you know, Hump.”
They did not, however, arrive in the civic44 centre of such things without yet another delay. They left the river and followed the man with the long hair and the goatskin frock; and he stopped as it happened at a house on the outskirts45 of the village. The adventurers stopped also, out of curiosity, and were at first relieved to see the man almost instantly reappear, having transacted46 his business with a quickness that seemed incredible. A second glance showed them it was not the man, but another man dressed exactly like him. A few minutes more of inquisitive47 delay, showed them many of the kilty and goatish sect48 going in and out of this particular place, each clad in his innocent uniform.
“This must be the temple and chapel,” muttered Patrick, “it must be here they sacrifice a glass of milk to a cow, or whatever it is they do. Well, the joke is pretty obvious, but we must wait for a lull49 in the crowding of the congregation.”
When the last long-haired phantom50 had faded up the road, Dalroy sprang from the car and drove the sign-board deep into the earth with savage51 violence, and then very quietly knocked at the door.
The apparent owner of the place, of whom the two last of the long-haired and bare-footed idealists were taking a rather hurried farewell, was a man curiously52 ill-fitted for the part he seemed cast for in the only possible plot.
Both Pump and Dalroy thought they had never seen a man look so sullen53. His face was of the rubicund54 sort that does not suggest jollity, but merely a stagnant55 indigestion in the head. His mustache hung heavy and dark, his brows yet heavier and darker. Dalroy had seen something of the sort on the faces of defeated people disgracefully forced into submission56, but he could not make head or tail of it in connection with the priggish perfections of Peaceways. It was all the odder because he was manifestly prosperous; his clothes were smartly cut in something of the sporting manner, and the inside of his house was at least four times grander than the outside.
But what mystified them most was this, that he did not so much exhibit the natural curiosity of a gentleman whose private house is entered by strangers, but rather an embarrassed and restless expectation. During Dalroy’s eager apologies and courteous57 inquiries58 about the direction and accommodations of Peaceways, his eye (which was of the boiled gooseberry order) perpetually wandered from them to the cupboard and then again to the window, and at last he got up and went to look out into the road.
“Oh, yes, sir; very healthy place, Peaceways,” he said, peering through the lattice. “Very ... dash it, what do they mean?... Very healthy place. Of course they have their little ways.”
“Only drink pure milk, don’t they?” asked Dalroy.
“Yes; so they say,” and he went again to the window.
“I’ve bought some of it,” said Patrick, patting his pet milk-can, which he carried under his arm, as if unable to be separated from Dr. Meadows’s discovery. “Have a glass of milk, sir.”
“What do you want?” he muttered, “are you ’tecs or what?”
“Agents and Distributors of the Meadows’ Mountain Milk,” said the Captain, with simple pride, “taste it?”
The dazed householder took a glass of the blameless liquid and sipped61 it; and the change on his face was extraordinary.
“Well, I’m jiggered,” he said, with a broad and rather coarse grin. “That’s a queer dodge62. You’re in the joke, I see.” Then he went again restlessly to the window; and added, “but if we’re all friends, why the blazes don’t the others come in? I’ve never known trade so slow before.”
“Who are the others?” asked Mr. Pump.
“Oh, the usual Peaceways people,” said the other. “They generally come here before work. Dr. Meadows don’t work them for very long hours, that wouldn’t be healthy or whatever he calls it; but he’s particular about their being punctual. I’ve seen ’em running, with all their pure-minded togs on, when the hooter gave the last call.”
“Come along in if you’re coming. You’ll give the show away if you play the fool out there.”
Patrick looked out also and the view of the road outside was certainly rather singular. He was used to crowds, large and small, collecting outside houses which he had honoured with the sign of “The Old Ship,” but they generally stared up at it in unaffected wonder and amusement. But outside this open door, some twenty or thirty persons in what Pump had called their night-gowns were moving to and fro like somnambulists, apparently blind to the presence of the sign; looking at the other side of the road, looking at the horizon, looking at the clouds of morning; and only occasionally stopping to whisper to each other. But when the owner of the house called to one of these ostentatiously abstracted beings and asked him hoarsely64 what the devil was the matter, it was natural for the milk-fed one to turn his feeble eye toward the sign. The gooseberry eyes followed his, and the face to which they belonged was a study in apoplectic65 astonishment66.
“What the hell have you done to my house?” he demanded. “Of course they can’t come in if this thing’s here.”
“I’ll take it down, if you like,” said Dalroy, stepping out and picking it up like a flower from the front garden (to the amazement67 of the men in the road, who thought they had strayed into a nursery fairy-tale), “but I wish, in return, you’d give me some idea of what the blazes all this means.”
“Wait till I’ve served these men,” replied his host.
The goat-garbed persons went very sheepishly (or goatishly) into the now signless building, and were rapidly served with raw spirits, which Mr. Pump suspected to be of no very superior quality. When the last goat was gone, Captain Dalroy said:
“I mean that all this seems to me topsy-turvy. I understood that as the law stands now, if there’s a sign they are allowed to drink and if there isn’t they aren’t.”
“The Law!” said the man, in a voice thick with scorn. “Do you think these poor brutes68 are afraid of the Law as they are of the Doctor?”
“Why should they be afraid of the Doctor?” asked Dalroy, innocently. “I always heard that Peaceways was a self-governing republic.”
“Self-governing be damned,” was the illiberal69 reply. “Don’t he own all the houses and could turn ’em out in a snow storm? Don’t ’e pay all the wages and could starve ’em stiff in a month? The Law!” And he snorted. A moment after he squared his elbows on the table and began to explain more fully.
“I was a brewer70 about here and had the biggest brewery71 in these parts. There were only two houses which didn’t belong to me, and the magistrates72 took away their licenses73 after a time. Ten years ago you could see Hugby’s Ales written beside every sign in the county. Then came these cursed Radicals75, and our leader, Lord Ivywood, must go over to their side about it, and let this Doctor buy all the land under some new law that there shan’t be any pubs at all. And so my business is ruined so that he can sell his milk. Luckily I’d done pretty well before and had some compensation, of course; and I still do a fair trade on the Q.T., as you see. But of course that don’t amount to half the old one, for they’re afraid of old Meadows finding out. Snuffling old blighter!”
“I am a Radical74 myself,” said the Irishman, rather coldly, “for all information on the Conservative party I must refer you to my friend, Mr. Pump, who is, of course, in the inmost secrets of his leaders. But it seems to me a very rum sort of Radicalism77 to eat and drink at the orders of a master who is a madman, merely because he’s also a millionaire. O Liberty, what very complicated and even unsatisfactory social developments are committed in thy name! Why don’t they kick the old ass22 round the town a bit? No boots? Is that why they’re allowed no boots? Oh, roll him down hill in a milk can: he can’t object to that.”
“I don’t know,” said Pump, in his ruminant way, “Master Christian’s aunt did, but ladies are more particular, of course.”
“Look here!” cried Dalroy, in some excitement, “if I stick up that sign outside, and stay here to help, will you defy them? You’d be strictly78 within the law, and any private coercion79 I can promise you they shall repent80. Plant the sign and sell the stuff openly like a man, and you may stand in English history like a deliverer.”
Mr. Hugby, of Hugby’s Ales, only looked gloomily at the table. His was not the sort of drinking nor the sort of drink-selling on which the revolutionary sentiment flourishes.
“Well,” said the Captain, “will you come with me and say ‘Hear, hear!’ and ‘How true!’—‘What matchless eloquence81!’ if I make a speech in the marketplace? Come along! There’s room in our car.”
“Well, I’ll come with you, if you like,” replied Mr. Hugby, heavily. “It’s true if yours is allowed we might get our trade back, too.” And putting on a silk hat he followed the Captain and the innkeeper out to their little car. The model village was not an appropriate background for Mr. Hugby’s silk hat. Indeed, the hat somehow seemed to bring out by contrast all that was fantastic in the place.
It was a superb morning, some hours after sunrise. The edges of the sky touching82 the ring of dim woods and distant hills were still jewelled with the tiny transparent83 clouds of daybreak, delicate red and green or yellow. But above the vault84 of Heaven rose through turquoise85 into a torrid and solid blue in which the other clouds, the colossal86 cumuli, tumbled about like a celestial87 pillow-fight. The bulk of the houses were as white as the clouds, so that it looked (to use another simile) as if some of the whitewashed88 cottages were flying and falling about the sky. But most of the white houses were picked out here and there with bright colours, here an ornament18 in orange or there a stripe of lemon yellow, as if by the brush of a baby giant. The houses had no thatching (thatching is not hygienic) but were mostly covered with a sort of peacock green tiles bought cheap at a Preraphaelite Bazaar89; or, less frequently, by some still more esoteric sort of terra cotta bricks. The houses were not English, nor homelike, nor suited to the landscape; for the houses had not been built by free men for themselves, but at the fancy of a whimsical lord. But considered as a sort of elfin city in a pantomime it was a really picturesque90 background for pantomimic proceedings91.
I fear Mr. Dalroy’s proceedings from the first rather deserved that name. To begin with, he left the sign, the cask, and the keg all wrapped and concealed92 in the car, but removed all the wraps of his own disguise, and stood on the central patch of grass in that green uniform that looked all the more insolent93 for being as ragged94 as the grass. Even that was less ragged than his red hair, which no red jungle of the East could imitate. Then he took out, almost tenderly, the large milk-can, and deposited it, almost reverently95, on the island of turf. Then he stood beside it, like Napoleon beside a gun, with an expression of tremendous seriousness and even severity. Then he drew his sword, and with that flashing weapon, as with a flail96, lashed97 and thrashed the echoing metal can till the din17 was deafening98, and Mr. Hugby hastily got out of the car and withdrew to a slight distance, stopping his ears. Mr. Pump sat solidly at the steering99 wheel, well knowing it might be necessary to start in some haste.
“Gather, gather, gather, Peaceways,” shouted Patrick, still banging on the can and lamenting100 the difficulties of adapting “Macgregor’s Gathering” to the name and occasion, “We’re landless, landless, landless, Peaceways!”
Two or three of the goat-clad, recognising Mr. Hugby with a guilty look, drew near with great caution, and the Captain shouted at them as if they were an army covering Salisbury Plain.
“Citizens,” he roared, saying anything that came into his head, “try the only original unadulterated Mountain Milk, for which alone Mahomet came to the mountain. The original milk of the land flowing with milk and honey; the high quality of which could alone have popularised so unappetising a combination. Try our milk! None others are genuine! Who can do without milk. Even whales can’t do without milk. If any lady or gentleman keeps a favourite whale at home, now’s their chance! The early whale catches the milk. Just look at our milk! If you say you can’t look at the milk, because it’s in the can—well, look at the can! You must look at the can! You simply must! When Duty whispers low ‘Thou Must!’” he bellowed101 at the top of his voice in a highly impromptu102 peroration103, “When Duty whispers low ‘Thou Must,’ the Youth replies, ‘I can!’” And with the word “Can” he hit the can with a shocking and shattering noise, like a peal104 of demoniac bells of steel.
This introductory speech is open to criticism from those who regard it as intended for the study rather than the stage. The present chronicler (who has no aim save truth) is bound to record that for its own unscrupulous purpose it was extremely successful: a great mass of the citizens of Peaceways having been attracted by the noise of one man shouting like a crowd. There are crowds who do not care to revolt; but there are no crowds who do not like someone else to do it for them; a fact which the safest oligarchs may be wise to learn.
But Dalroy’s ultimate triumph (I regret to say) consisted in actually handing to a few of the foremost of his audience some samples of his blameless beverage105. The fact was certainly striking. Some were paralysed with surprise. Some were abruptly broken double with laughter. Many chuckled106. Some cheered. All looked radiantly toward the eccentric orator107.
And yet the radiance died quietly and suddenly from their faces. And only because one little old man had joined the group; a little old man in white linen108 with a white pointed beard and a white powder-puff of hair like thistledown: a man whom almost every man present could have killed with the left arm.
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1
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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2
proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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3
initiate
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| vt.开始，创始，发动；启蒙，使入门；引入 | |
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4
neophyte
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| n.新信徒；开始者 | |
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5
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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6
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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7
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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8
eliciting
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| n. 诱发, 引出 动词elicit的现在分词形式 | |
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9
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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10
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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11
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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12
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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13
embryo
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| n.胚胎，萌芽的事物 | |
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14
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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15
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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16
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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18
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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20
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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buffoons
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| n.愚蠢的人( buffoon的名词复数 )；傻瓜；逗乐小丑；滑稽的人 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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Mandarin
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| n.中国官话，国语，满清官吏；adj.华丽辞藻的 | |
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30
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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31
dishonoured
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| a.不光彩的，不名誉的 | |
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32
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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33
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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industriously
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37
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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40
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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41
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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42
synopsis
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| n.提要，梗概 | |
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43
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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transacted
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| v.办理（业务等）( transact的过去式和过去分词 )；交易，谈判 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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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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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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rubicund
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| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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59
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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68
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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illiberal
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| adj.气量狭小的，吝啬的 | |
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brewer
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| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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brewery
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| n.啤酒厂 | |
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magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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licenses
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| n.执照( license的名词复数 )v.批准，许可，颁发执照( license的第三人称单数 ) | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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radicals
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| n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 )；根基；基本原理；[数学]根数 | |
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76
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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radicalism
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| n. 急进主义, 根本的改革主义 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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coercion
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| n.强制，高压统治 | |
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repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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84
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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96
flail
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| v.用连枷打；击打；n.连枷（脱粒用的工具） | |
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lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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98
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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99
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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100
lamenting
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| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
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101
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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102
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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103
peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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104
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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105
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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106
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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108
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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