It shot from the ground for a space, straight, strong, and superb, and then bust8 into nine splendid branches, each a tree in itself, all growing symmetrically from the parent trunk, and casting a grateful shadow under which all the inhabitants of the tiny village might have gathered.
It was not alone its size, its beauty, its symmetry, its density9 of foliage10, that made it the glory of the neighborhood, but the low grown of its branches and the extra-ordinary breadth of its shade. Passers-by from the adjacent towns were wont12 to hitch13 their teams by the wayside, crawl through the stump14 fence and walk across the fields, for a nearer view of its magnificence. One man, indeed, was known to drive by the tree every day during the summer, and lift his hat to it, respectfully, each time he passed; but he was a poet and his intellect was not greatly esteemed15 in the village.
The elm was almost as beautiful in one season as in another. In the spring it rose from moist fields and mellow16 ploughed ground, its tiny brown leaf buds bursting with pride at the thought of the loveliness coiled up inside. In summer it stood in the midst of a waving garden of buttercups and whiteweed, a towering mass of verdant17 leafage, a shelter from the sun and a refuge from the storm; a cool, splendid, hospitable18 dome19, under which the weary farmer might fling himself, and gaze upward as into the heights and depths of an emerald heaven. As for the birds, they made it a fashionable summer resort, the most commodious20 and attractive in the whole country; with no limit to the accommodations for those of a gregarious21 turn of mind, liking22 the advantages of select society combined with country air. In the autumn it held its own; for when the other elms changed their green to duller tints24, the nooning tree put on a gown of yellow, and stood out against the far background of sombre pine woods a brilliant mass of gold and brown. In winter, when there was no longer dun of upturned sod, nor waving daisy gardens, nor ruddy autumn grasses, it rose above the dazzling snow crust, lifting its bare, shapely branches in sober elegance25 and dignity, and seeming to say, “Do not pity me; I have been, and, please God, I shall be!”
Whenever the weather was sufficiently26 mild, it was used as a “nooning” tree by all the men at work in the surrounding fields; but it was in haying time that it became the favorite lunching and “bangeing” place for Squire Bean's hands and those of Miss Vilda Cummins, who owned the adjoining farm. The men congregated27 under the spreading branches at twelve o' the clock, and spent the noon hour there, eating and “swapping28” stories, as they were doing to-day.
Each had a tin pail, and each consumed a quantity of “flour food” that kept the housewives busy at the cook stove from morning till night. A glance at Pitt Packard's luncheon29, for instance, might suffice as an illustration, for, as Jabe Slocum said, “Pitt took after both his parents; one et a good deal, 'n' the other a good while.” His pail contained four doughnuts, a quarter section of pie, six buttermilk biscuits, six ginger31 cookies, a baked cup custard, and a quart of cold coffee. This quantity was a trifle unusual, but every man in the group was lined throughout with pie, cemented with buttermilk bread, and riveted32 with doughnuts.
Jabe Slocum and Brad Gibson lay extended slouchingly, their cowhide boots turned up to the sky; Dave Milliken, Steve Webster, and the others leaned back against the tree-trunk, smoking clay pipes, or hugging their knees and chewing blades of grass reflectively.
One man sat apart from the rest, gloomily puffing33 rings of smoke into the air. After a while he lay down in the grass with his head buried in his hat, sleeping to all appearances, while the others talked and laughed; for he had no stories, though he put in an absent-minded word or two when he was directly addressed. This was the man from Tennessee, Matt Henderson, dubbed34 “Dixie” for short. He was a giant fellow,—a “great gormin' critter,” Samantha Ann Milliken called him; but if he had held up his head and straightened his broad shoulders, he would have been thought a man of splendid presence.
He seemed a being from another sphere instead of from another section of the country. It was not alone the olive tint23 of the skin, the mass of wavy35 dark hair tossed back from a high forehead, the sombre eyes, and the sad mouth,—a mouth that had never grown into laughing curves through telling Yankee jokes,—it was not these that gave him what the boys called a “kind of a downcasted look.” The man from Tennessee had something more than a melancholy36 temperament37; he had, or physiognomy was a lie, a sorrow tugging38 at his heart.
“I'm goin' to doze39 a spell,” drawled Jabe Slocum, pulling his straw hat over his eyes. “I've got to renew my strength like the eagle's, 'f I'm goin' to walk to the circus this afternoon. Wake me up, boys, when you think I'd ought to sling40 that scythe41 some more, for if I hev it on my mind I can't git a wink42 o' sleep.”
“It's one of Jabe's useless days; he takes 'em from his great-aunt Lyddy,” said David Milliken.
“You jest dry up, Dave. Ef it took me as long to git to workin' as it did you to git a wife, I bate46 this hay wouldn't git mowed47 down to crack o' doom48. Gorry! ain't this a tree! I tell you, the sun 'n' the airth, the dew 'n' the showers, 'n' the Lord God o' creation jest took holt 'n' worked together on this tree, 'n' no mistake!”
“You're right, Jabe.” (This from Steve Webster, who was absently cutting a D in the bark. He was always cutting D's these days.) “This ellum can't be beat in the State o' Maine, nor no other state. My brother that lives in California says that the big redwoods, big as they air, don't throw no sech shade, nor ain't so han'some, 'specially49 in the fall o' the year, as our State o' Maine trees; 'assiduous trees,' he called 'em.”
“Assidyus trees? Why don't you talk United States while you're about it, 'n' not fire yer long-range words round here? Assidyus! What does it mean, anyhow?”
“Can't prove it by me. That's what he called 'em, 'n' I never forgot it.”
“Assidyus—assidyus—it don't sound as if it meant nothing', to me.”
“Assiduous means 'busy,'” said the man from Tennessee, who had suddenly waked from a brown study, and dropped off into another as soon as he had given the definition.
“Busy, does it? Wall, I guess we ain't no better off now 'n we ever was. One tree's 'bout2 's busy as another, as fur 's I can see.”
“Wall, there is kind of a meanin' in it to me, but it'sturrible far fetched,” remarked Jabe Slocum, rather sleepily. “You see, our ellums and maples50 'n' all them trees spends part o' the year in buddin' 'n' gittin' out their leaves 'n' hangin' em all over the branches; 'n' then, no sooner air they full grown than they hev to begin colorin' of 'em red or yeller or brown, 'n' then shakin' 'em off; 'n' this is all extry, you might say, to their every-day chores o' growin' 'n' cirkerlatin' sap, 'n' spreadin' 'n' thickenin' 'n' shovin' out limbs, 'n' one thing 'n' 'nother; 'n' it stan's to reason that the first 'n' hemlocks52 'n' them California redwoods, that keeps their clo'es on right through the year, can't be so busy as them that keeps a-dressin' 'n' ondressin' all the time.”
“I guess you're 'bout right,” allowed Steve, “but I shouldn't never 'a' thought of it in the world. What yer takin' out o' that bottle, Jabe? I thought you was a temperance man.”
“I guess he 's like the feller over to Shandagee schoolhouse, that said he was in favor o' the law, but agin its enforcement!” laughed Pitt Packard.
“I ain't breakin' no law; this is yarb bitters,” Jabe answered, with a pull at the bottle.
“It's to cirkerlate his blood,” said Ob Tarbox; “he's too dog-goned lazy to cirkerlate it himself.”
“I'm takin' it fer what ails53 me,” said Jabe oracularly; “the heart knoweth its own bitterness, 'n' it 's a wise child that knows its own complaints 'thout goin' to a doctor.”
“Ain't yer scared fer fear it'll start yer growth, Laigs?” asked little Brad Gibson, looking at Jabe's tremendous length of limb and foot. “Say, how do yer git them feet o' yourn uphill? Do yer start one ahead, 'n' side-track the other?”
Jabe Slocum's imperturbable55 good humor was not shaken in the very least by these personal remarks. “If I thought 't was a good growin' medicine, I'd recommend it to your folks, Brad,” he replied cheerfully. “Your mother says you boys air all so short that when you're diggin' potatoes, yer can't see her shake the dinner rag 'thout gittin' up 'n' standing56 on the potato hills! If I was a sinikitin feller like you, I wouldn't hector folks that had made out to grow some.”
“Speakin' o' growin',” said Steve Webster, “who do you guess I seen in Boston, when I was workin' there? That tall Swatkins girl from the Duck Pond, the one that married Dan Robinson. It was one Sunday, in the Catholic meetin'-house. I'd allers wanted to go to a Catholic meetin', an' I declare it's about the solemnest one there is. I mistrusted I was goin' to everlastin'ly giggle57, but I tell yer I was the awedest cutter yer ever see. But anyway, the Swatkins girl—or Mis' Robinson, she is now—was there as large as life in the next pew to me, jabberin' Latin, pawin' beads59, gettin' up 'n' kneelin' down, 'n' crossin' herself north, south, east, 'n' west, with the best of 'em. Poor Dan! 'Grinnin' Dan,' we used to call him. Well, he don't grin nowadays. He never was good for much, but he 's hed more 'n his comeuppance!”
“Why, what 's the matter with him? Can't he git work in Boston?”
“Matter? Why, his wife, that I see makin' believe be so dreadful pious60 in the Catholic meetin', she 's carried on wuss 'n the Old Driver for two years, 'n' now she 's up 'n' left him,—gone with a han'somer man.”
Down on Steve Webster's hand came Jabe Slocum's immense paw with a grasp that made him cringe.
“What the”—began Steve, when the man from Tennessee took up his scythe and slouched away from the group by the tree.
“Didn't yer know no better 'n that, yer thunderin' fool? Can't yer see a hole in a grindstun 'thout it's hung on yer nose?”
“What hev I done?” asked Steve, as if dumfounded.
“Done? Where 've yer ben, that yer don't know Dixie's wife 's left him?”
“Where 've I ben? Hain't I ben workin' in Boston fer a year; 'n' since I come home last week, hain't I ben tendin' sick folks, so 't I couldn't git outside the dooryard? I never seen the man in my life till yesterday, in the field, 'n' I thought he was one o' them dark-skinned Frenchies from Guildford that hed come up here fer hayin'.”
“Mebbe I spoke61 too sharp,” said Jabe apologetically; “but we 've ben scared to talk wives, or even women folks, fer a month o' Sundays, fer fear Dixie 'd up 'n' tumble on his scythe, or do somethin' crazy. You see it's this way (I'd ruther talk than work; 'n' we ain't workin' by time to-day, anyway, on account of the circus comin'): 'Bout a year 'n' a half ago, this tall, han'some feller turned up here in Pleasant River. He inhailed from down South somewheres, but he didn't like his work there, 'n' drifted to New York, 'n' then to Boston; 'n' then he remembered his mother was a State o' Maine woman, 'n' he come here to see how he liked. We didn't take no stock in him at first,—we never hed one o' that nigger-tradin' secedin' lot in amongst us,—but he was pleasant spoken 'n' a square, all-round feller, 'n' didn't git off any secesh nonsense, 'n' it ended in our likin' him first-rate. Wall, he got work in the cannin' fact'ry over on the Butterfield road, 'n' then he fell in with the Maddoxes. You 've hearn tell of 'em; they're relation to Pitt here.”
“I wouldn't own 'em if I met 'em on Judgement Bench!” exclaimed Pitt Packard hotly. “My stepfather's second wife married Mis' Maddox's first husband after he got divorced from her, 'n' that's all there is to it; they ain't no bloody-kin6 o' mine, 'n' I don't call 'em relation.”
“Wall, Pitt's relations or not, they're all wuss 'n the Old Driver, as yer said 'bout Dan Robinson's wife. Dixie went to board there. Mis Maddox was all out o' husbands jest then,—she 'd jest disposed of her fourth, somehow or 'nother; she always hed a plenty 'n' to spare, though there's lots o' likely women folks round here that never hed one chance, let alone four. Her daughter Fidelity62 was a chip o' the old block. Her father hed named her Fidelity after his mother, when she wa'n't nothin' but a two-days-old baby, 'n' he didn't know how she was goin' to turn out; if he 'd 'a' waited two months, I believe I could 'a' told him. Infidelity would 'a' ben a mighty63 sight more 'propriate; but either of 'em is too long fer a name, so they got to callin' her Fiddy. Wall, Fiddy didn't waste no time; she was nigh onto eighteen years old when Dixie went there to board, 'n' she begun huneyfuglin' him's soon as ever she set eyes on him. Folks warned him, but 't wa'n't no use; he was kind o' bewitched with her from the first. She wa'n't so han'some, neither. Blamed 'f I know how they do it; let 'em alone, 'f yer know when yer 're well off, 's my motter. She was red-headed, but her hair become her somehow when she curled 'n' frizzed it over a karosene lamp, 'n' then wound it round 'n' round her head like ropes o' carnelian. She hedn't any particular kind of a nose nor mouth nor eyes, but gorry! when she looked at yer, yer felt kind as if yer was turnin' to putty inside.”
“I know what yer mean,” said Steve interestedly.
“She hed a figger jest like them fashion-paper pictures you 've seen, an' the very day any new styles come to Boston Fiddy Maddox would hev 'em before sundown; the biggest bustles64 'n' the highest hats 'n' the tightest skirts 'n' the longest tails to 'em; she'd git 'em somehow, anyhow! Dixie wa'n't out o' money when he come here, an' a spell afterwards there was more 'n a thousand dollars fell to him from his father's folks down South. Well, Fiddy made that fly, I tell you! Dixie bought a top buggy 'n' a sorrel hoss, 'n' they was on the road most o' the time when he wa'n't to work; 'n' when he was, she 'd go with Lem Simmons, 'n' Dixie none the wiser. Mis Maddox was lookin' up a new husband jest then, so 't she didn't interfere”—
“She was the same kind o' goods, anyhow,” interpolated Ob Tarbox.
“Yes, she was one of them women folks that air so light-minded you can't anchor 'em down with a sewin'-machine, nor a dishpan, nor a husband 'n' young ones, nor no namable kind of a thing; the least wind blows 'em here 'n' blows 'em there, like dandelion puffs65. As time went on, the widder got herself a beau now 'n' then; but as fast as she hooked 'em, Fiddy up 'n' took 'em away from her. You see she 'd gethered in most of her husbands afore Fiddy was old enough to hev her finger in the pie; but she cut her eye-teeth early, Fiddy did, 'n' there wa'n't no kind of a feller come to set up with the widder but she 'd everlastin'ly grab him, if she hed any use fer him, 'n' then there 'd be Hail Columby, I tell yer. But Dixie, he was 's blind 's a bat 'n' deef 's a post. He could n't see nothin' but Fiddy, 'n' he couldn't see her very plain.”
“He hed warnin's enough,” put in Pitt Packard, though Jabe Slocum never needed any assistance in spinning a yarn66.
“Warnin's! I should think he hed. The Seventh Day Baptist minister went so fur as to preach at him. 'The Apostle Paul gin heed67,' was the text. 'Why did he gin heed?' says he. 'Because he heerd. If he hadn't 'a' heerd, he couldn't 'a' gin heed, 'n' 't wouldn't 'a' done him no good to 'a' heerd 'thout he gin heed!' Wall, it helped consid'ble many in the congregation, 'specially them that was in the habit of hearin' 'n' heedin', but it rolled right off Dixie like water off a duck's back. He 'n' Fiddy was seen over to the ballin' alley68 to Wareham next day, 'n' they didn't come back for a week.”
“'He gin her his hand,
And he made her his own,'”
sang little Brad Gibson.
“He hed gin her his hand, but no minister nor trial-jestice nor eighteen-carat ring nor stificate could 'a' made Fiddy Maddox anybody's own 'ceptin' the devil's, an' he wouldn't 'a' married her; she'd 'a' ben too near kin. We'd never 'spicioned she 'd git 's fur 's marryin' anybody, 'n' she only married Dixie 'cause he told her he 'd take her to the Wareham House to dinner, 'n' to the County Fair afterwards; if any other feller hed offered to take her to supper, 'n' the theatre on top o' that, she 'd 'a' married him instid.”
“How 'd the old woman take it?” asked Steve.
“She disowned her daughter punctilio: in the first place, fer runnin' away 'stid o' hevin' a church weddin'; 'n' second place, fer marryin' a pauper69 (that was what she called him; 'n' it was true, for they 'd spent every cent he hed); 'n' third place, fer alienatin' the 'fections of a travelin' baker-man she hed her eye on fer herself. He was a kind of a flour-food peddler, that used to drive a cart round by Hard Scrabble, Moderation, 'n' Scratch Corner way. Mis' Maddox used to buy all her baked victuals70 of him, 'specially after she found out he was a widower71 beginnin' to take notice. His cart used to stand at her door so long everybody on the rout72 would complain o' stale bread. But bime bye Fiddy begun to set at her winder when he druv up, 'n' bime bye she pinned a blue ribbon in her collar. When she done that, Mis' Maddox alles hed to take a back seat. The boys used to call it a danger signal. It kind o' drawed yer 'tention to p'ints 'bout her chin 'n' mouth 'n' neck, 'n' one thing 'n' 'nother, in a way that was cal'lated to snarl73 up the thoughts o' perfessors o' religion 'n' turn 'em earthways. There was a spell I hed to say, 'Remember Rhapseny! Remember Rhapseny!' over to myself whenever Fiddy put on her blue ribbons. Wall, as I say, Fiddy set at the winder, the baker-man seen the blue ribbons, 'n' Mis' Maddox's cake was dough30. She put on a red ribbon; but land! her neck looked 's if somebody 'd gone over it with a harrer! Then she stomped74 round 'n' slat the dish-rag, but 't wa'n't no use. 'Gracious, mother,' says Fiddy, 'I don't do nothin' but set at the winder. The sun shines for all.' 'You're right it does,' says Mis' Maddox, ''n' that's jest what I complain of. I'd like to get a change to shine on something myself.'
“But the baker-man kep' on comin', though when he got to the Maddoxes' doorsteps he couldn't make change for a quarter nor tell pie from bread; an' sure 's you're born, the very day Fiddy went away to be married to Dixie, that mornin' she drawed that everlastin' numhead of a flour-food peddler out into the orchard75, 'n' cut off a lock o' her hair, 'n' tied it up with a piece o' her blue ribbon, 'n' give it to him; an' old Mis' Bascom says, when he went past her house he was gazin' at it 'n' kissin' of it, 'n' his horse meanderin' on one side the road 'n' the other, 'n' the door o' the cart open 'n' slammin' to 'n' fro, 'n' ginger cookies spillin' out all over the lot. He come back to the Maddoxes next morning' ('t wa'n't his day, but his hoss couldn't pull one way when Fiddy's ribbon was pullin' t'other); an' when he found out she 'd gone with Dixie, he cussed 'n' stomped 'n' took on like a loontic; an' when Mis' Maddox hinted she was ready to heal the wownds Fiddy 'd inflicted76, he stomped 'n' cussed wuss 'n' ever, 'n' the neighbors say he called her a hombly old trollop, an' fired the bread loaves all over the dooryard, he was so crazy at bein' cheated.
“Wall, to go back to Dixie—I'll be comin' right along, boys.” (This to Brad Gibson, who was taking his farewell drink of ginger tea preparatory to beginning work.)
“I pity you, Steve!” exclaimed Brad, between deep swallows. “If you 'd known when you was well off, you 'd 'a' stayed in Boston. If Jabe hed a story started, he 'd talk three days after he was dead.”
“Go 'long; leave me be! Wall, as I was sayin', Dixie brought Fiddy home ('Dell,' he called her), an' they 'peared bride 'n' groom77 at meetin' next Sunday. The last hundred dollars he hed in the world hed gone into the weddin' tower 'n' on to Fiddy's back. He hed a new suit, 'n' he looked like a major. You ain't got no idea what he was, 'cause his eyes is dull now, 'n' he 's bowed all over, 'n' ain't shaved nor combed, hardly; but they was the han'somest couple that ever walked up the broad aisle78. She hed on a green silk dress, an' a lace cape79 that was like a skeeter nettin' over her neck an' showed her bare skin through, an' a hat like an apple orchard in full bloom, hummin'-bird an' all. Dixie kerried himself as proud as Lucifer. He didn't look at the minister 'n' he didn't look at the congregation; his great eyes was glued on Fiddy, as if he couldn't hardly keep from eatin' of her up. An' she behaved consid'able well for a few months, as long 's the novelty lasted an' the silk dresses was new. Before Christmas, though, she began to peter out 'n' git slack-twisted. She allers hated housework as bad as a pig would a penwiper, an' Dixie hed to git his own breakfast afore he went to work, or go off on an empty stomach. Many 's the time he 's got her meals for her 'n' took 'em to her on a waiter. Them secesh fellers'll wait on women folks long as they can stan' up.
“Then bime bye the baby come along; but that made things wuss 'stid o' better. She didn't pay no more 'tention to it than if it hed belonged to the town. She 'd go off to dances, an' leave Dixie to home tendin' cradle; but that wa'n't no hardship to him for he was 'bout as much wropped up in the child as he was in Fiddy. Wall, sir, 'bout a month ago she up 'n' disappeared off the face o' the airth 'thout sayin' a word or leavin' a letter. She took her clo'es, but she never thought o' takin' the baby; one baby more or less didn't make no odds80 to her s' long 's she hed that skeeter-nettin' cape. Dixie sarched fer her high an' low fer a fortnight, but after that he give it up as a bad job. He found out enough, I guess, to keep him pretty busy thinkin' what he 'd do next. But day before yesterday the same circus that plays here this afternoon was playin' to Wareham. A lot of us went over on the evenin' train, an' we coaxed81 Dixie into goin', so 's to take his mind off his trouble. But land! he didn't see nothin'. He 'd walk right up the lions 'n' tigers in the menagerie as if they was cats 'n' chickens, an' all the time the clown was singin' he looked like a dumb animile that 's hed a bullet put in him. There was lots o' side shows, mermaids82 'n' six-legged calves83 'n' spotted84 girls, 'n' one thing 'n' 'nother, an' there was one o' them whirligig machines with a mess o' rocking'-hosses goin' round 'n' round, 'n' an organ in the middle playin' like sixty. I wish we 'd 'a' kept clear o' the thing, but as bad luck would hev it, we stopped to look, an' there on top o' two high-steppin' white wooden hosses, set Mis' Fiddy an' that dod-gasted light-complected baker-man! If ever she was suited to a dot, it was jest then 'n' there. She could 'a' gone prancin' round that there ring forever 'n' forever, with the whoopin' 'n' hollerin' 'n' whizzin' 'n' whirlin' soundin' in her ears, 'n' the music playin' like mad, 'n' she with nothin' to do but stick on 'n' let some feller foot the bills. Somebody must 'a' ben thinkin' o' Fiddy Maddox when the invented them whirl-a-go-rounds. She was laughin' 'n' carryin' on like the old Scratch; her apple-blossom hat dome off, 'n' the baker-man put it on, 'n' took consid'able time over it, 'n' pulled her ear 'n' pinched her cheek when he got through; an' that was jest the blamed minute we ketched sight of 'em. I pulled Dixie off, but I was too late. He give a groan85 I shall remember to my dyin' day, 'n' then he plunged86 out o' the crowd 'n' through the gate like a streak87 o' lightnin'. We follered, but land! we couldn't find him, an' true as I set here, I never expected to see him alive agin. But I did; I forgot all about one thing, you see, 'n' that was the baby. If it wa'n't no attraction to its mother, I guess he cal'lated it needed a father all the more. Anyhow, he turned up in the field yesterday mornin', ready for work, but lookin' as if he 'd hed his heart cut out 'n' a piece o' lead put in the place of it.”
“Wall, I don't s'pose she hed any idea o' Dixie's bein' at a circus over Wareham jest then; an' ten to one she didn't care if the whole town seen her. She wanted to get rid of him, 'n' she didn't mind how she did it. Dixie ain't one of the shootin' kinds, an' anyhow, Fiddy Maddox wa'n't one to look ahead; whatever she wanted to do, that she done, from the time she was knee high to a grasshopper89. I've seen her set down by a peck basket of apples, 'n' take a couple o' bites out o' one, 'n' then heave it fur 's she could heave it 'n' start in on another, 'n' then another; 'n' 't wa'n't a good apple year, neither. She'd everlastin'ly spile 'bout a dozen of 'em 'n' smaller 'bout two mouthfuls. Doxy Morton, now, would eat an apple clean down to the core, 'n' then count the seeds 'n' put 'em on the window-sill to dry, 'n' get up 'n' put the core in the stove, 'n' wipe her hands on the roller towel, 'n' take up her sewin' agin; 'n' if you 've got to be cuttin' 'nitials in tree bark an' writin' of 'em in the grass with a stick like you 've ben doin' for the last half-hour, you 're blamed lucky to be doin' D's not F's, like Dixie there!”
It was three o'clock in the afternoon. The men had dropped work and gone to the circus. The hay was pronounced to be in a condition where it could be left without much danger; but, for that matter, no man would have stayed in the field to attend to another man's hay when there was a circus in the neighborhood.
Dixie was mowing90 on alone, listening as in a dream to that subtle something in the swish of the scythe that makes one seek to know the song it is singing to the grasses.
Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep;
Hush, they say to the grasses swaying,
Hush, they sing to the clover deep;
Hush,—'t is the lullaby Time is singing,—
Hush, and heed not, for all things pass.
Hush, ah, hush! and the scythes are swinging
Over the clover, over the grass.”
And now, spent with fatigue93 and watching and care and grief,—heart sick, mind sick, body sick, sick with past suspense94 and present certainty and future dread,—he sat under the cool shade of the nooning tree, and buried his face in his hands. He was glad to be left alone with his miseries,—glad that the other men, friendly as he felt them to be, had gone to the circus, where he would not see or hear them for hours to come.
How clearly he could conjure95 up the scene that they were enjoying with such keen relish96! Only two days before, he had walked among the same tents, staring at horses and gay trappings and painted Amazons as one who noted97 nothing; yet the agony of the thing he now saw at last lit up all the rest as with a lightning flash, and burned the scene forever on his brain and heart. It was at Wareham, too,—Wareham, where she had promised to be his wife, where she had married him only a year before. How well he remembered the night! They left the parsonage; they had ten miles to drive in the moonlight before reaching their stopping-place,—ten miles of such joy as only a man could know, he thought, who had had the warm fruit of life hanging within full vision, but just out of reach,—just above his longing98 lips; and then, in an unlooked-for, gracious moment, his! He could swear she had loved him that night, if never again.
But this picture passed away, and he saw that maddening circle with the caracoling steeds. He head the discordant99 music, the monotonous100 creak of the machinery101, the strident laughter of the excited riders. As first the thing was a blur102, a kaleidoscope of whirling colors, into which there presently crept form and order. ... A boy who had cried to get on, and was now crying to get off. ... Old Rube Hobson and his young wife; Rube looking white and scared, partly by the whizzing motion, and partly by the prospect103 of paying out ten cents for the doubtful pleasure. ... Pretty Hetty Dunnell with that young fellow from Portland; she too timid to mount one of the mettle-some chargers, and snuggling close to him in one of the circling seats. The, good Got!—Dell! sitting on a prancing104 white horse, with the man he knew, the man he feared, riding beside her; a man who kept holding on her hat with fingers that trembled,—the very hat she “'peared bride in” a man who brushed a grasshopper from her shoulder with an air of ownership, and, when she slapped his hand coquettishly, even dared to pinch her pink cheek,—his wife's cheek,—before that crowd of on-lookers! Merry-go-round, indeed! The horrible thing was well named; and life was just like it,—a whirl of happiness and misery105, in which the music cannot play loud enough to drown the creak of the machinery, in which one soul cries out in pain, another in terror, and the rest laugh; but the prancing steeds gallop106 on, gallop on, and once mounted, there is no getting off, unless...
There were some things it was not possible for a mean to bear! The river! The river! He could hear it rippling107 over the sunny sands, swirling108 among the logs, dashing and roaring under the bridge, rushing to the sea's embrace. Could it tell whither it was hurrying? NO; but it was escaping from its present bonds; it would never have to pass over these same jagged rocks again. “On, on to the unknown!” called the river. “I come! I come!” he roused himself to respond, when a faint, faint, helpless voice broke in upon the mad clatter110 in his brain, cleaving111 his torn heart in twain; not a real voice,—the half-forgotten memory of one; a tender wail112 that had added fresh misery to his night's vigil,—the baby!
But the feeble pipe was borne down by the swirl109 of the water as it dashed between the rocky banks, still calling to him. If he could only close his ears to it! But it still called—called still—the river! And still the child's voice pierced the rush of sound with its pitiful flute113 note, until the two resolved themselves into contesting strains, answering each other antiphonally. The river—the baby—the river—the baby; and in and through, and betwixt and between, there spun114 the whirling merry-go-round, with its curveting wooden horses, its discordant organ, and its creaking machinery.
But gradually the child's voice gained in strength, and as he heard it more plainly the other sounds grew fainter, till at last, thank God! they were hushed. The din11, the whirlwind, and the tempest in his brain were lulled115 into silence, as under a “Peace, be still!” and, worn out with the contest, the man from Tennessee fell asleep under the grateful shade of the nooning tree. So deep was the slumber116 that settled over exhausted117 body and troubled spirit that the gathering118 clouds, the sudden darkness, the distant muttering of thunder, the frightened twitter of the birds, passed unnoticed. A heavy drop of rain pierced the thick foliage and fell on his face, but the storm within had been too fierce for him to heed the storm without. He slept on.
Almost every man, woman, and child in the vicinity of Pleasant River was on the way to the circus,—Boomer's Grand Six-in-One Universal Consolidated119 Show; Brilliant Constellations120 of Fixed121 Stars shining in the same Vast Firmament122; Glittering Galaxies123 of World-Famous Equestrian124 Artists; the biggest elephants, the funniest clowns, the pluckiest riders, the stubbornest mules125, the most amazing acrobats126, the tallest man and the shortest man, the thinnest woman and the thickest woman, on the habitable globe; and no connection with any other show on earth, especially Sypher's Two-in-One Show now devastating127 the same State.
If the advertisements setting forth128 these attractions were couched in language somewhat rosier129 than the facts would warrant, there were few persons calm enough to perceive it, when once the glamour130 of the village parade and the smell of the menagerie had intoxicated131 the senses.
The circus had been the sole topic of conversation for a fortnight. Jot132 Bascom could always be relied on for the latest and most authentic133 news of its triumphant134 progress from one town to another. Jot was a sort of town crier; and whenever the approach of a caravan135 was announced, he would go over on the Liberty road to find out just where it was and what were its immediate136 plans, for the thrilling pleasure of calling at every one of the neighbors' on his way home, and delivering his budget of news. He was an attendant at every funeral, and as far as possible at every wedding, in the village; at every flag-raising and husking, and town and county fair. When more pressing duties did not hinder, he endeavored to meet the two daily trains that passed through Milliken's Mills, a mile or two from Pleasant River. He accompanied the sheriff on all journeys entailing137 serving of papers and other embarrassing duties common to the law. On one occasion, when the two lawyers of the village held an investigation138 before Trial Justice Simeon Porter, they waited an hour because Jot Bascom did not come. They knew that something was amiss, but it was only on reflection that they remembered that Jot was not indispensable. He went with all paupers139 to the Poor Farm, and never missed a town meeting. He knew all the conditions attending any swapping of horses that occurred within a radius140 of twenty miles,—the terms of the trade and the amount paid to boot. He knew who owed the fish-man and who owed the meat-man, and who could not get trusted by either of them. In fact, so far as the divine attributes of omniscience141 and omnipresence could be vested in a faulty human creature, they were present in Jot Bascom. That he was quite unable to attend conscientiously142 to home duties, when overborne by press of public service, was true. When Diadema Bascom wanted kindling143 split, wood brought in, the cows milked, or the pigs fed, she commonly found her spouse144 serving humanity in bulk.
All the details of the approach of the Grand Six-in-One Show had, therefore, been heralded145 to those work-sodden and unambitious persons who tied themselves to their own wood-piles or haying-fields.
These were the bulletins issues:—
The men were making a circle in the Widow Buzzell's field, in the same place where the old one had been,—the old one, viewed with awe58 for five years by all the village small boys.
The forerunners146, outriders, proprietors147, whatever they might be, had arrived and gone to the tavern148.
An elephant was quartered in the tavern shed!
The elephant had stepped through the floor!!
The advance guard of performers and part of the show itself had come!
And the “Cheriot”!!
This far-famed vehicle had paused on top of Deacon Chute's hill, to prepare for the street parade. Little Jim Chute had been gloating over the fact that it must pass by his house, and when it stopped short under the elms in the dooryard his heart almost broke for joy. He pinched the twenty-five-cent piece in his pocket to assure himself that he was alive and in his right mind. The precious coin had been the result of careful saving, and his hot, excited hands had almost worn it thin. But alas149 for the vanity of human hopes! When the magnificent red-and-gold “Cheriot” was uncovered, that its glories might shine upon the waiting world, the door opened, and a huddle150 of painted Indians tumbled out, ready to lead the procession, or, if so disposed, to scalp the neighborhood. Little Jim gave one panic-stricken look as they leaped over the chariot steps, and then fled to the barn chamber151, whence he had to be dragged by his mother, and cuffed152 into willingness to attend the spectacle that had once so dazzled his imagination.
On the eventful afternoon of the performance the road was gay with teams. David and Samantha Milliken drove by in Miss Cummin's neat carryall, two children on the back seat, a will-o'-the-wisp baby girl held down by a serious boy. Steve Webster was driving Doxy Morton in his mother's buggy. Jabe Slocum, Pitt Packard, Brad Gibson, Cyse Higgins, and scores of others were riding “shank's mare,” as they would have said.
It had been a close, warm day, and as the afternoon wore away it grew hotter and closer. There was a dead calm in the air, a threatening blackness in the west that made the farmers think anxiously of their hay. Presently the thunderheads ran together into big black clouds, which melted in turn into molten masses of smoky orange, so that the heavens were like burnished153 brass154. Drivers whipped up their horses, and pedestrians155 hastened their steps. Steve Webster decided156 not to run even the smallest risk of injuring so precious a commodity as Doxy Morton by a shower of rain, so he drove into a friend's yard, put up his horse, and waited till the storm should pass by. Brad Gibson stooped to drink at a wayside brook157, and as he bent158 over the water he heard a low, murmuring, muttering sound that seemed to make the earth tremble.
Then from hill to hill “leapt the live thunder.” Even the distant mountains seemed to have “found a tongue.” A zigzag159 chain of lightning flashed in the lurid160 sky, and after an appreciable161 interval162 another peal163, louder than the first, and nearer.
The rain began to fall, the forked flashes of flame darted164 hither and thither165 in the clouds, and the boom of heaven's artillery166 grew heavier and heavier. The blinding sheets of light and the tumultuous roar of sound now followed each other so quickly that they seemed almost simultaneous. Flash—crash—flash—crash—flash—crash; blinding and deafening167 eye and ear at once. Everybody who could find a shelter of any sort hastened to it. The women at home set their children in the midst of feather beds, and some of them even huddled168 there themselves, their babies clinging to them in sympathetic fear, as the livid shafts169 of light illuminated170 the dark rooms with more than noonday glare.
The air was full of gloom; a nameless terror lurked171 within it; the elements seemed at war with each other. Horses whinnied in the stables, and colts dashed about the pastures. The cattle sought sheltered places; the cows ambling172 clumsily towards some refuge, their full bags dripping milk as they swung heavily to and fro. The birds flew towards the orchards173 and the deep woods; the swallows swooped174 restlessly round the barns, and hid themselves under the eaves or in the shadow of deserted175 nests.
The rain now fell in sheets.
“Hurry up 'n' git under cover, Jabe,” said Brad Gibson; “you're jest the kind of a pole to draw lightnin'!”
“You hain't, then!” retorted Jabe. “There ain't enough o' you fer lightnin' to ketch holt of!”
Suddenly a ghastly streak of light leaped out of a cloud, and then another, till the sky seemed lit up by cataracts176 of flame. A breath of wind sprang into the still air. Then a deafening crash, clap, crack, roar, peal! and as Jabe Slocum looked out of a protecting shed door, he saw a fiery177 ball burst from the clouds, shooting brazen arrows as it fell. Within the instant the meeting-house steeple broke into a tongue of flame, and then, looking towards home, he fancied that the fireball dropped to earth in Squire Bean's meadow.
The wind blew more fiercely now. There was a sudden crackling of wood, falling of old timers, and breaking of glass. The deadly fluid ran in a winding178 course down a great maple51 by the shed, leaving a narrow charred179 channel through the bark to tell how it passed to earth. A sombre pine stood up, black and burned, its heart gaping180 through a ghastly wound in the split trunk.
The rain now subsided181; there was only an occasional faint rumbling182 of thunder, as if it were murmuring over the distant sea; the clouds broke away in the west; the sun peeped out, as if to see what had been going on in the world since he hid himself an hour before. A delicate rainbow bridge stretched from the blackened church steeple to the glittering weathercock on the squire's barn; and there, in the centre of the fair green meadows from which it had risen in glorious strength and beauty for a century or more, lay the nooning tree.
The fireball, if ball of fire indeed there were, had struck in the very centre of its splendid dome, and ploughed its way from feather tip to sturdy root, riving the tree in twain, cleaving its great boughs183 left and right, laying one majestic184 half level with the earth, and bending the other till the proud head almost touched the grass.
The rainbow was reflected in the million drops glittering upon the bowed branches, turning each into a tear of liquid opal. The birds hopped185 on the prone186 magnificence, and eyed timorously187 a strange object underneath188.
There had been one swift, pitiless, merciful stroke! The monarch of the meadow would never again feel the magic thrill of the sap in its veins189, nor the bursting of brown bud into green leaf.
The birds would build their nests and sing their idyls in other boughs. The “time of pleasure and love” was over with the nooning tree; over too, with him who slept beneath; for under its fallen branches, with the light of a great peace in his upturned face, lay the man from Tennessee.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
squire
|
|
| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
bout
|
|
| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
monarch
|
|
| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
bust
|
|
| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
density
|
|
| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
hitch
|
|
| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
stump
|
|
| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
esteemed
|
|
| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
mellow
|
|
| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
verdant
|
|
| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
dome
|
|
| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
commodious
|
|
| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
gregarious
|
|
| adj.群居的，喜好群居的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
tint
|
|
| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
congregated
|
|
| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
swapping
|
|
| 交换，交换技术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
dough
|
|
| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
ginger
|
|
| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
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： |
|
|
|
|
33
puffing
|
|
| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
dubbed
|
|
| v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 )；把…称为；配音；复制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
wavy
|
|
| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
tugging
|
|
| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
doze
|
|
| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
sling
|
|
| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
scythe
|
|
| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
wink
|
|
| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
witticism
|
|
| n.谐语，妙语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
elicited
|
|
| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
bate
|
|
| v.压制；减弱；n.（制革用的）软化剂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
mowed
|
|
| v.刈，割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
maples
|
|
| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
maple
|
|
| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
hemlocks
|
|
| 由毒芹提取的毒药( hemlock的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
53
ails
|
|
| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
evoked
|
|
| [医]诱发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
imperturbable
|
|
| adj.镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
giggle
|
|
| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
bustles
|
|
| 热闹( bustle的名词复数 )； （女裙后部的）衬垫； 撑架 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
puffs
|
|
| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
yarn
|
|
| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
pauper
|
|
| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
victuals
|
|
| n.食物；食品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
widower
|
|
| n.鳏夫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
rout
|
|
| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
snarl
|
|
| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
stomped
|
|
| v.跺脚，践踏，重踏( stomp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
orchard
|
|
| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
aisle
|
|
| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
cape
|
|
| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
coaxed
|
|
| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
mermaids
|
|
| n.（传说中的）美人鱼( mermaid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
calves
|
|
| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
spotted
|
|
| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
groan
|
|
| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
streak
|
|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
brazen
|
|
| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
grasshopper
|
|
| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
mowing
|
|
| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
scythes
|
|
| n.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的名词复数 )v.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
conjure
|
|
| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
relish
|
|
| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
discordant
|
|
| adj.不调和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
blur
|
|
| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
prancing
|
|
| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
rippling
|
|
| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
swirling
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
swirl
|
|
| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
cleaving
|
|
| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
wail
|
|
| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
flute
|
|
| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
spun
|
|
| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
lulled
|
|
| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
consolidated
|
|
| a.联合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
constellations
|
|
| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
firmament
|
|
| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
galaxies
|
|
| 星系( galaxy的名词复数 )； 银河系； 一群（杰出或著名的人物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
equestrian
|
|
| adj.骑马的；n.马术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
mules
|
|
| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
acrobats
|
|
| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
devastating
|
|
| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
rosier
|
|
| Rosieresite | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
glamour
|
|
| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
intoxicated
|
|
| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
jot
|
|
| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
authentic
|
|
| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
caravan
|
|
| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
entailing
|
|
| 使…成为必要( entail的现在分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
paupers
|
|
| n.穷人( pauper的名词复数 )；贫民；贫穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
radius
|
|
| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
omniscience
|
|
| n.全知，全知者，上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
conscientiously
|
|
| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
kindling
|
|
| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
spouse
|
|
| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
heralded
|
|
| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
forerunners
|
|
| n.先驱( forerunner的名词复数 )；开路人；先兆；前兆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
proprietors
|
|
| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
tavern
|
|
| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
huddle
|
|
| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
cuffed
|
|
| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
burnished
|
|
| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
pedestrians
|
|
| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
zigzag
|
|
| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
lurid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
appreciable
|
|
| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
peal
|
|
| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
artillery
|
|
| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
deafening
|
|
| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
huddled
|
|
| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
shafts
|
|
| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
lurked
|
|
| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
ambling
|
|
| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
orchards
|
|
| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
swooped
|
|
| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
cataracts
|
|
| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
charred
|
|
| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
gaping
|
|
| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
subsided
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
rumbling
|
|
| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
boughs
|
|
| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
hopped
|
|
| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
prone
|
|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
timorously
|
|
| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |