One’s first home impression after a season of lazy Continental1 travelling and visiting in somnolent2 English country houses, is that an emblematical3 Ethiopian should be quartered on our national arms.
Zola tells us in Nouvelle Campagne that his vivid impressions are all received during the first twenty-four hours in a new surrounding,—the mind, like a photographic film, quickly losing its sensibility.
This fleeting4 receptiveness makes returning Americans painfully conscious of nerves in the home atmosphere, and the headlong pace at which our compatriots are living.
The habit of laying such faults to the climate is but a poor excuse. Our grandparents and their parents lived peaceful lives beneath these same skies, undisturbed by the morbid5 influences that are supposed to key us to such a painful concert pitch.
There was an Indian summer languor6 in the air as we steamed up the bay last October, that apparently7 invited repose8; yet no sooner had we set foot on our native dock, and taken one good whiff of home air, than all our acquired calm disappeared. People who ten days before would have sat (at a journey’s end) contentedly9 in a waiting-room, while their luggage was being sorted by leisurely10 officials, now hustle11 nervously12 about, nagging13 the custom-house officers and egging on the porters, as though the saving of the next half hour were the prime object of existence.
Considering how extravagant14 we Americans are in other ways it seems curious that we should be so economical of time! It was useless to struggle against the current, however, or to attempt to hold one’s self back. Before ten minutes on shore had passed, the old, familiar, unpleasant sensation of being in a hurry took possession of me! It was irresistible15 and all-pervading16; from the movements of the crowds in the streets to the whistle of the harbor tugs17, everything breathed of haste. The very dogs had apparently no time to loiter, but scurried18 about as though late for their engagements.
The transit20 from dock to hotel was like a visit to a new circle in the Inferno21, where trains rumble22 eternally overhead, and cable cars glide23 and block around a pale-faced throng24 of the damned, who are forced, in expiation25 of their sins, to hasten forever toward an unreachable goal.
A curious curse has fallen upon our people; an “influence” is at work which forces us to attempt in an hour just twice as much as can be accomplished26 in sixty minutes. “Do as well as you can,” whispers the “influence,” “but do it quickly!” That motto might be engraved27 upon the fronts of our homes and business buildings.
It is on account of this new standard that rapidity in a transaction on the Street is appreciated more than correctness of detail. A broker28 to-day will take more credit for having received and executed an order for Chicago and returned an answer within six minutes, than for any amount of careful work. The order may have been ill executed and the details mixed, but there will have been celerity of execution to boast of
The young man who expects to succeed in business to-day must be a “hustler,” have a snap-shot style in conversation, patronize rapid transit vehicles, understand shorthand, and eat at “breathless breakfasts.”
Being taken recently to one of these establishments for “quick lunch,” as I believe the correct phrase is, to eat buckwheat cakes (and very good they were), I had an opportunity of studying the ways of the modern time-saving young man.
It is his habit upon entering to dash for the bill-of-fare, and give an order (if he is adroit29 enough to catch one of the maids on the fly) before removing either coat or hat. At least fifteen seconds may be economized30 in this way. Once seated, the luncher falls to on anything at hand; bread, cold slaw, crackers31, or catsup. When the dish ordered arrives, he gets his fork into it as it appears over his shoulder, and has cleaned the plate before the sauce makes its appearance, so that is eaten by itself or with bread.
Cups of coffee or tea go down in two swallows. Little piles of cakes are cut in quarters and disappear in four mouthfuls, much after the fashion of children down the ogre’s throat in the mechanical toy, mastication32 being either a lost art or considered a foolish waste of energy.
A really accomplished luncher can assimilate his last quarter of cakes, wiggle into his coat, and pay his check at the desk at the same moment. The next, he is down the block in pursuit of a receding33 trolley34.
To any one fresh from the Continent, where the entire machinery35 of trade comes to a standstill from eleven to one o’clock, that déjeuner may be taken in somnolent tranquillity36, the nervous tension pervading a restaurant here is prodigious37, and what is worse—catching! During recent visits to the business centres of our city, I find that the idea of eating is repugnant. It seems to be wrong to waste time on anything so unproductive. Last week a friend offered me a “luncheon tablet” from a box on his desk. “It’s as good as a meal,” he said, “and so much more expeditious38!”
The proprietor39 of one down-town restaurant has the stock quotations40 exhibited on a black-board at the end of his room; in this way his patrons can keep in touch with the “Street” as they hurriedly stoke up.
A parlor41 car, toward a journey’s end, is another excellent place to observe our native ways. Coming from Washington the other day my fellow-passengers began to show signs of restlessness near Newark. Books and papers were thrown aside; a general “uprising, unveiling” followed, accompanied by our objectionable custom of having our clothes brushed in each other’s faces. By the time Jersey42 City appeared on the horizon, every man, woman, and child in that car was jammed, baggage in hand, into the stuffy43 little passage which precedes the entrance, swaying and staggering about while the train backed and delayed.
The explanation of this is quite simple. The “influence” was at work, preventing those people from acting44 like other civilized45 mortals, and remaining seated until their train had come to a standstill.
Being fresh from the “other side,” and retaining some of my acquired calm, I sat in my chair! The surprise on the faces of the other passengers warned me, however, that it would not be safe to carry this pose too far. The porter, puzzled by the unaccustomed sight, touched me kindly46 on the shoulder, and asked if I “felt sick”! So now, to avoid all affectation of superiority, I struggled into my great-coat, regardless of eighty degrees temperature in the car, and meekly47 joined the standing48 army of martyrs49, to hurry, scampering50 with them from the still-moving car to the boat, and on to the trolley before the craft had been moored51 to its landing pier52.
In Paris, on taking an omnibus, you are given a number and the right to the first vacant seat. When the places in a “bus” are all occupied it receives no further occupants. Imagine a traction53 line attempting such a reform here! There would be a riot, and the conductors hanged to the nearest trolley-poles in an hour!
To prevent a citizen from crowding into an over-full vehicle, and stamping on its occupants in the process, would be to infringe54 one of his dearest privileges, not to mention his chance of riding free.
A small boy of my acquaintance tells me he rarely finds it necessary to pay in a New York car. The conductors are too hurried and too preoccupied55 pocketing their share of the receipts to keep count. “When he passes, I just look blank!” remarked the ingenious youth.
Of all the individuals, however, in the community, our idle class suffer the most acutely from lack of time, though, like Charles Lamb’s gentleman, they have all there is.
From the moment a man of leisure, or his wife, wakens in the morning until they drop into a fitful slumber56 at night, their day is an agitated57 chase. No matter where or when you meet them, they are always on the wing.
“Am I late again?” gasped58 a thin little woman to me the other evening, as she hurried into the drawing-room, where she had kept her guests and dinner waiting. “I’ve been so driven all day, I’m a wreck59!” A glance at her hatchet-faced husband revealed the fact that he, too, was chasing after a stray half-hour lost somewhere in his youth. His color and most of his hair had gone in its pursuit, while his hands had acquired a twitch60, as though urging on a tired steed.
Go and ask that lady for a cup of tea at twilight61; ten to one she will receive you with her hat on, explaining that she has not had time to take it off since breakfast. If she writes to you, her notes are signed, “In great haste,” or “In a tearing hurry.” She is out of her house by half-past eight on most mornings, yet when calling she sits on the edge of her chair, and assures you that she has not a moment to stay, “has only run in,” etc.
Just what drives her so hard is a mystery, for beyond a vague charity meeting or two and some calls, she accomplishes little. Although wealthy and childless, with no cares and few worries, she succumbs62 to nervous prostration63 every two or three years, “from overwork.”
Listen to a compatriot’s account of his European trip! He will certainly tell you how short the ocean crossing was, giving hours and minutes with zest64, as though he had got ahead of Father Time in a transaction. Then follows a list of the many countries seen during his tour.
I know a lady lying ill to-day because she would hurry herself and her children, in six weeks last summer, through a Continental tour that should have occupied three months. She had no particular reason for hurrying; indeed, she got ahead of her schedule, and had to wait in Paris for the steamer; a detail, however, that in no way diminished madame’s pleasure in having done so much during her holiday. This same lady deplores65 lack of leisure hours, yet if she finds by her engagement book that there is a free week ahead, she will run to Washington or Lakewood, “for a change,” or organize a party to Florida.
To realize how our upper ten scramble67 through existence, one must also contrast their fidgety way of feeding with the bovine68 calm in which a German absorbs his nourishment69 and the hours Italians can pass over their meals; an American dinner party affords us the opportunity.
There is an impression that the fashion for quickly served dinners came to us from England. If this is true (which I doubt; it fits too nicely with our temperament70 to have been imported), we owe H.R.H. a debt of gratitude71, for nothing is so tiresome72 as too many courses needlessly prolonged.
Like all converts, however, we are too zealous73. From oysters74 to fruit, dinners now are a breathless steeplechase, during which we take our viand hedges and champagne75 ditches at a dead run, with conversation pushed at much the same speed. To be silent would be to imply that one was not having a good time, so we rattle76 and gobble on toward the finger-bowl winning-post, only to find that rest is not there!
As the hostess pilots the ladies away to the drawing-room, she whispers to her spouse77, “You won’t smoke long, will you?” So we are mulcted in the enjoyment78 of even that last resource of weary humanity, the cigar, and are hustled79 away from that and our coffee, only to find that our appearance is a signal for a general move.
One of the older ladies rises; the next moment the whole circle, like a flock of frightened birds, are up and off, crowding each other in the hallway, calling for their carriages, and confusing the unfortunate servants, who are trying to help them into their cloaks and overshoes.
Bearing in mind that the guests come as late as they dare, without being absolutely uncivil, that dinners are served as rapidly as is physically80 possible, and that the circle breaks up as soon as the meal ends, one asks one’s self in wonder why, if a dinner party is such a bore that it has to be scrambled81 through, coûte que coûte, we continue to dine out?
It is within the bounds of possibility that people may have reasons for hurrying through their days, and that dining out à la longue becomes a weariness.
The one place, however, where you might expect to find people reposeful82 and calm is at the theatre. The labor83 of the day is then over; they have assembled for an hour or two of relaxation84 and amusement. Yet it is at the play that our restlessness is most apparent. Watch an audience (which, be it remarked in passing, has arrived late) during the last ten minutes of a performance. No sooner do they discover that the end is drawing near than people begin to struggle into their wraps. By the time the players have lined up before the footlights the house is full of disappearing backs.
Past, indeed, are the unruffled days when a heroine was expected (after the action of a play had ended) to deliver the closing envoi dear to the writers of Queen Anne’s day. Thackeray writes:—
The play is done! The curtain drops,
Slow falling to the prompter’s bell!
A moment yet the actor stops,
And looks around, to say farewell!
A comedian85 who attempted any such abuse of the situation to-day would find himself addressing empty benches. Before he had finished the first line of his epilogue, most of his public would be housed in the rapid transit cars. No talent, no novelty holds our audiences to the end of a performance.
On the opening night of the opera season this winter, one third of the “boxes” and orchestra stalls were vacant before Romeo (who, being a foreigner, was taking his time) had expired.
One overworked matron of my acquaintance has perfected an ingenious and time-saving combination. By signalling from a window near her opera box to a footman below, she is able to get her carriage at least two minutes sooner than her neighbors.
During the last act of an opera like Tann-häuser or Faust, in which the inconsiderate composer has placed a musical gem19 at the end, this lady is worth watching. After getting into her wraps and overshoes she stands, hand on the door, at the back of her box, listening to the singers; at a certain moment she hurries to the window, makes her signal, scurries86 back, hears Calvé pour her soul out in Anges purs, anges radieux, yet manages to get down the stairs and into her carriage before the curtain has fallen.
We deplore66 the prevailing87 habit of “slouch”; yet if you think of it, this universal hurry is the cause of it. Our cities are left unsightly, because we cannot spare time to beautify them. Nervous diseases are distressingly88 prevalent; still we hurry! hurry!! hurry!!! until, as a diplomatist recently remarked to me, the whole nation seemed to him to be but five minutes ahead of an apoplectic89 fit.
The curious part of the matter is that after several weeks at home, much that was strange at first becomes quite natural to the traveller, who finds himself thinking with pity of benighted90 foreigners and their humdrum91 ways, and would resent any attempts at reform.
What, for instance, would replace for enterprising souls the joy of taking their matutinal car at a flying leap, or the rapture92 of being first out of a theatre? What does part of a last act or the “star song” matter in comparison with five minutes of valuable time to the good? Like the river captains, we propose to run under full head of steam and get there, or b--- explode!
点击收听单词发音
1 continental | |
adj.大陆的,大陆性的,欧洲大陆的 | |
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2 somnolent | |
adj.想睡的,催眠的;adv.瞌睡地;昏昏欲睡地;使人瞌睡地 | |
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3 emblematical | |
adj.标志的,象征的,典型的 | |
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4 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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5 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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6 languor | |
n.无精力,倦怠 | |
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7 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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8 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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9 contentedly | |
adv.心满意足地 | |
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10 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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11 hustle | |
v.推搡;竭力兜售或获取;催促;n.奔忙(碌) | |
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12 nervously | |
adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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13 nagging | |
adj.唠叨的,挑剔的;使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评(某人)( nag的现在分词 );不断地烦扰或伤害(某人);无休止地抱怨;不断指责 | |
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14 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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15 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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16 pervading | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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17 tugs | |
n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 );猛拖;拖船v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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18 scurried | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19 gem | |
n.宝石,珠宝;受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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20 transit | |
n.经过,运输;vt.穿越,旋转;vi.越过 | |
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21 inferno | |
n.火海;地狱般的场所 | |
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22 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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23 glide | |
n./v.溜,滑行;(时间)消逝 | |
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24 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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25 expiation | |
n.赎罪,补偿 | |
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26 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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27 engraved | |
v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的过去式和过去分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
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28 broker | |
n.中间人,经纪人;v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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29 adroit | |
adj.熟练的,灵巧的 | |
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30 economized | |
v.节省,减少开支( economize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 crackers | |
adj.精神错乱的,癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 );薄脆饼干;(认为)十分愉快的事;迷人的姑娘 | |
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32 mastication | |
n.咀嚼 | |
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33 receding | |
v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 );向后倾斜;自原处后退或避开别人的注视;尤指问题 | |
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34 trolley | |
n.手推车,台车;无轨电车;有轨电车 | |
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35 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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36 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
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37 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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38 expeditious | |
adj.迅速的,敏捷的 | |
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39 proprietor | |
n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
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40 quotations | |
n.引用( quotation的名词复数 );[商业]行情(报告);(货物或股票的)市价;时价 | |
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41 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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42 jersey | |
n.运动衫 | |
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43 stuffy | |
adj.不透气的,闷热的 | |
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44 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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45 civilized | |
a.有教养的,文雅的 | |
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46 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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47 meekly | |
adv.温顺地,逆来顺受地 | |
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48 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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49 martyrs | |
n.martyr的复数形式;烈士( martyr的名词复数 );殉道者;殉教者;乞怜者(向人诉苦以博取同情) | |
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50 scampering | |
v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑,惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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51 moored | |
adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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52 pier | |
n.码头;桥墩,桥柱;[建]窗间壁,支柱 | |
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53 traction | |
n.牵引;附着摩擦力 | |
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54 infringe | |
v.违反,触犯,侵害 | |
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55 preoccupied | |
adj.全神贯注的,入神的;被抢先占有的;心事重重的v.占据(某人)思想,使对…全神贯注,使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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56 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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57 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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58 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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59 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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60 twitch | |
v.急拉,抽动,痉挛,抽搐;n.扯,阵痛,痉挛 | |
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61 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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62 succumbs | |
不再抵抗(诱惑、疾病、攻击等)( succumb的第三人称单数 ); 屈从; 被压垮; 死 | |
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63 prostration | |
n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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64 zest | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
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65 deplores | |
v.悲叹,痛惜,强烈反对( deplore的第三人称单数 ) | |
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66 deplore | |
vt.哀叹,对...深感遗憾 | |
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67 scramble | |
v.爬行,攀爬,杂乱蔓延,碎片,片段,废料 | |
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68 bovine | |
adj.牛的;n.牛 | |
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69 nourishment | |
n.食物,营养品;营养情况 | |
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70 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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71 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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72 tiresome | |
adj.令人疲劳的,令人厌倦的 | |
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73 zealous | |
adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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74 oysters | |
牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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75 champagne | |
n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
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76 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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77 spouse | |
n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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78 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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79 hustled | |
催促(hustle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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80 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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81 scrambled | |
v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 );攀登;争夺;(军事飞机)紧急起飞 | |
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82 reposeful | |
adj.平稳的,沉着的 | |
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83 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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84 relaxation | |
n.松弛,放松;休息;消遣;娱乐 | |
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85 comedian | |
n.喜剧演员;滑稽演员 | |
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86 scurries | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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87 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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88 distressingly | |
adv. 令人苦恼地;悲惨地 | |
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89 apoplectic | |
adj.中风的;愤怒的;n.中风患者 | |
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90 benighted | |
adj.蒙昧的 | |
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91 humdrum | |
adj.单调的,乏味的 | |
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92 rapture | |
n.狂喜;全神贯注;着迷;v.使狂喜 | |
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