THE winter of 1878 was certainly an unusually dreary1 one, and so thought a remarkably2 fine young Blackbird, as he perched one morning on the bare bough3 of a spreading lime-tree, whose last brown leaf had fallen to the ground some weeks before.
With the exception of the Scotch4 firs and other fortunate evergreens5, there was nothing to be seen on all sides but leafless branches standing6 out sharply against the cold, grey sky. The ground was frozen, and entirely7 covered with snow, for there had been a heavy fall during the night. The way-marks of 2field and road were obliterated8, all was one sheet of dazzling whiteness. Here and there a little mound9 marked the spot where a flower-bed lay buried, and there was one narrow path where the snow was thickly piled on either side, for it had been partially10 swept from the centre, which showed traces of the bright brown gravel11 below.
The Blackbird was contemplating12 this landscape in a discontented and unhappy frame of mind. He was, as we have just said, a remarkably fine young bird. His plumage was of a glossy13 blackness, with which not even a raven’s could vie; his bright eyes looked even brighter as they gleamed from the deep yellow rims14 which surrounded them, and his bill resembled the polished shaft15 of an early crocus.
At the time at which my story begins, this Blackbird was about eight months old, and usually he was not a little vain of his appearance. On this particular morning, however, he did not feel at all so proud of himself, or especially pleased with any one or anything. He had passed the long night in a wood hard by, and had been benumbed with cold.
He had tucked his head first under one wing, and 3then under the other, but it had been of no use, the cutting wind had penetrated16 even his thick warm feathers, and had ruffled17 them in a way which had sorely discomposed him, in body as well as in mind.
Then again, all through the night he had been exceedingly put out by little cold wet dabs18 which kept continually falling on his back. The Blackbird had changed his position––he had done it several times: he had moved from a birch to an elm, and then to a beech-tree. But it was of no avail, the little cold droppings seemed to pursue him wherever he went, and it was not till quite late in the night that he found real shelter, and got a little rest in a thick mantle19 of ivy20 which completely covered a wall near the stables.
What were these cold droppings? He could not imagine. He knew well enough they were not rain; rain always made a sharp pelting21 noise as it struck against the trees. But there had been no such sound, for, with the exception of the occasional sighing of the wind, the night had been a singularly noiseless one. What then could this cold, soft moisture be?
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The Blackbird could not at all understand it, but as he was well sheltered, and soon got warm in the ivy, he fell asleep and forgot all about it.
The next morning, however, when he woke up and peeped forth22 from his green canopy23, he was much astonished by the sight which met his eyes. Everything was white! The green fields were gone, the lawn where he found his worms, the flower-beds where he caught his insects,––all had disappeared, and a broad, white, sparkling covering lay over everything. What was it? what could it mean?
The Blackbird had no one to explain it all to him, so he thought he would just take a short flight and find out for himself. He stretched his wings and skimmed away over the white ground, and then he thought he would rest for a while on a small white hillock.
No sooner, however, had his little dusky brown feet touched the surface of the snow, than he found he was gradually sinking down, down into a soft, but very cold white bed. With a shrill24 cry of alarm he flew up again, and did not stop until he alighted on the bough of the lime-tree where we were first introduced to him. What was it? What wonderful and 5terrible new thing was this? and where was he to go for his breakfast?
He was sitting in a very melancholy25 frame of mind, stretching out first one foot and then the other, when his attention was arrested by a flood of joyous26 song poured forth from above, and looking up, he saw a bright-breasted Robin27 on the bough immediately over his head.
The little bird in his scarlet28 and brown plumage looked more richly coloured and even more beautiful than usual, as, supported by his slender legs, with his head thrown back and his feathers puffed29 out, he poured forth his light-hearted carol to the leafless woods.
“How can you sing on this miserable30 morning?” said the Blackbird, gloomily, and indeed half contemptuously.
“Miserable morning!” replied the Robin in a tone of surprise; “why I don’t think it’s at all a miserable morning,––just look at the beautiful snow.”
“Oh, that’s what you call that white stuff down there, is it?” said the Blackbird, disdainfully gazing at the white world beneath him.
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“Yes, to be sure,” said the Robin; “have you never seen snow before?”
“No,” replied the Blackbird, “I’ve not, and I shan’t break my heart if I never see it again. All last night it was dropping on my back till I was wet through and through; and just now, when I flew down to look about for my breakfast, why it all gave way under my feet, and I might have been smothered31.”
“Ah,” said the Robin, shaking his head, “you won’t mind it when you get more used to it. You see you’re a young bird; this is only your first winter. Now I saw it all last winter. I’m nearly two years old.”
The Robin said this with a certain pride of seniority, and stretched himself to his full height as he looked at his younger, but much more bulky, neighbour.
“I don’t see any great advantage in being old,” said the Blackbird, sarcastically32; “but since you are so experienced, perhaps you can tell me what it all means?”
“Yes, I can,” said the Robin, hopping33 a little nearer. “Rain, you know, comes down from the clouds up there. Well, when it gets very cold indeed, 7as it is just now” (here the Blackbird shivered visibly), “why, then the clouds get frozen, and instead of falling in soft, warm little drops, they come down in these white flakes34, which we call snow. I am not very learned myself,” said the Robin, humbly36, “but a very wise friend of mine, an old Rook, told me all this, and he also said that if I examined a flake35 of snow, I should find it was made of beautiful crystals, each shaped like a little star.”
“Indeed,” said the Blackbird, “that is very curious, but, in the meantime, I should very much like to know what I am to do for something to eat. The fruit is all gone from the garden, and I can’t find any insects in the snow. Ivy-berries will be poorish eating day after day.”
“What do all your friends do?” asked the Robin.
“I don’t see much of my friends,” replied the Blackbird; “we Blackbirds are not so mighty37 fond of each other’s company, we like to live alone, we never,” he said this rather loftily, “talk much to strangers; in fact, during this cold weather, we don’t care to talk to each other.”
“Every one must judge for himself,” quoth the 8Robin, “but methinks it would be rather a dull world if none of us spoke38 to each other when it was cold. You see it’s very often cold here in old England, and the winters are very long and dark. I should like to know what we should all do without a little cheerful talk, and an occasional snatch of song?”
“As to singing,” struck in the Blackbird, “I’ve been so hoarse39 these last two months, that it’s only when the sun is very bright indeed that I can sing at all, and all my friends are in the same plight40. There are no leaves on the trees, there is no music in the woods, there is no sunshine to speak of, and it’s altogether exceedingly dull.”
The Robin did not exactly know how to reply to this wail41 of discontent, so he gathered himself together and poured forth a bright little song.
“How is it,” said the Blackbird suddenly, “that you have all at once become such a great songster? I never remember hearing your voice in the summer.”
“Ah, that’s it,” replied the Robin, “many people think I only sing in the winter, but in reality I sing quite as well, and better too, for that matter, in the summer. The truth is that it’s very difficult for 9me to make myself heard when the larks42 are singing so gloriously, and the thrushes, and the nightingales––not to speak of yourself,” said the Robin, turning round politely. “Now, however,” he continued, “there are so few woodland notes, that I think my poor little pipe may be more welcome, and I do my best.”
Again the Robin carolled, and as the Blackbird listened he said, with a certain air of respect, “You are a good little bird, Mr. Robin, and I feel the better for having heard your song; all the same, however, if we are to have much of this wretched snow, I should just like to know what I am to do for my food?”
His song ended, the Robin had been preparing to fly away, but at these words he drew in his little brown wings again, and said, “I hope we may meet again in a few days, and that you may then be happier than you are just now. In the meantime, however, it may be a help to you to hear something which my good friend the old Rook once told me, and which I have never forgotten. He said that the great God Who made you and me, and the snow, 10and everybody and everything, would never forget any of us, for He not only thinks of us, but, can you believe it, not one of those poor little sparrows falls to the ground without His knowing it. We don’t think much of the sparrows,” continued the Robin, “they are low, mischievous43 creatures, but God feeds them, so I’m sure He won’t let us starve. I’m only a very small bird myself, but the thought that I’m taken care of makes me feel very happy.”
Then away flew the Robin, leaving the Blackbird on the bare branch, with much to think about. He had heard many new and startling things that morning, and now as he gazed at the snow-covered world, it was with a happier feeling; the little Robin’s discourse44 had not been altogether thrown away.
It was getting late, and as yet the Blackbird had had no breakfast. He determined45, therefore, to make an expedition in search of food, and his sable46 wings were soon bearing him swiftly over the sparkling snow. He first flew to a wood not very far off, and as he alighted on a small hazel-branch he noticed, just beyond him, a fine holly47, and in spite of the snow he could see that it was covered with scarlet berries. 11How was it that he had never noticed that beautiful bush before? The ripe berries looked very tempting48, and he had soon made as substantial a meal as any hungry Blackbird could desire––indeed he left one bough almost bare. He felt all the better after this breakfast, and took quite a long excursion over the snow-covered woods and fields in the neighbourhood.
It was very remarkable49 how many trees he now found covered with berries; he had never noticed such a number before. In one hedgerow, leafless though it was, he discovered a hawthorn50-bush, and its small black berries, hard though they proved to be, formed by no means a contemptible51 luncheon52, even after the softer scarlet ones he had disposed of at breakfast. There was a mountain ash too, just on the other side of the hedge, upon the fruit of which this keen-eyed Blackbird made up his mind to regale53 himself at no very distant period. Altogether, his day, which had begun so unpromisingly, was a decided54 success, and that night, as he fluttered to rest in the ivy, and saw the little silver stars peeping and twinkling at him through the warm green curtains of his canopy, he thought of all the little Robin’s 12wise words. It was with a chirp55 of sincere thankfulness that he tucked his head under his wing.
The next morning was sunny, but frosty and very cold. Before leaving the ivy-bush, our Blackbird ate a few of the dark berries which clustered thickly around him. They were not, perhaps, quite so good as the holly or hawthorn berries, but still they were better than nothing at all.
He then flew from the ivy to his favourite branch on the lime-tree, and he was not a little pleased to find that his small red-breasted friend was there before him.
“Well,” quoth the Robin, as he paused in his carol to welcome his friend, “how do you find yourself this morning?”
“Better,” replied the Blackbird, “much better.” He then gave the Robin an account of all his experiences of the day before, and observed how curious it was that in one short day he should have discovered so many new kinds of berries.
“It is remarkable indeed,” said the Robin: “now I wonder what my old friend the Rook up there would have to say about it.”
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The Rook was at that very moment sailing in slow circles round the top of a neighbouring elm-tree. For centuries he and his ancestors had built their nests in the particular avenue of elms of which this tree was one of the tallest. It so happened that the Rook was just starting off for his morning constitutional, and as he finished his round, and then swept slowly across the meadow below, very deliberately56 flapping his great dusky wings, he came in sight of the lime-tree on which the Robin was perched.
Out flew the Robin, and then back again to attract the Rook’s attention. When the Rook saw this, he slowly gathered in his wings and swung himself on to a branch close to his little friend.
He certainly was a very sedate57, and even solemn-looking gentleman, at least so thought the Blackbird. His plumage was anything but bright and glossy, in fact it looked very shabby indeed, as if he had worn it for some seasons without a change, and had been out in much rough weather. His dark eyes were relieved by no merry twinkle; then there were small bare patches (which were not over beautiful) on his 14neck; and his voice was exceedingly hoarse and unmusical. But notwithstanding all this, there was a certain quiet dignity, and an air of ripe wisdom about the old bird which much impressed our hero, and made him listen with respect to whatever words of wisdom fell from the blue beak58, although they were uttered in rather a croaky tone.
After the usual “good mornings” had passed, and the Blackbird had been presented in due form to the Rook, the Robin said, “How comes it, Mr. Rook, that there are so many new berries on the bushes?”
“You ask how it is, my little friend,” said the Rook, kindly59; “well, I will tell you. Just now, when no insects can be had, what should we all do if we had no berries? Now that the leaves have all fallen, we can find the berries much more easily. Many of them were there already, only you didn’t see them. They are provided for us by our Heavenly Father. As each season comes round, God gives us the fruits of that season, and when one kind of food fails, He provides us with another. I am an old bird,” continued the Rook, “but I’ve never known the seasons to fail. We do not ‘sow, nor do we 15gather into barns,’ but still ‘God feeds us.’ I always look forward, and hopefully too, to every season as it comes––Spring,––Summer,––Autumn,––Winter,––and, my young friends, you will be wise to do the same, for, do you know, this trustful feeling is called ‘faith.’”
The Rook then shut his learned beak, and opened and spread his wide black wings, and slowly sailed away, leaving the Blackbird and the Robin to meditate60 on all that he had been telling them. At last the Robin broke silence with “Have you breakfasted?”
“Yes, I have,” replied the Blackbird, “on a few poor ivy-berries, but I’m still rather hungry.”
“Then come with me,” said the Robin, “and you shall soon have a right good feast.” Off the birds flew, and swiftly passed over one or two snow-covered fields, and then by a long avenue of lime-trees. They came at last to a level lawn, at the end of which stood an old gabled mansion61, built of gray stone; ivy climbed round the pillars of an arcade62 at the east end of the house, and ivy covered the west corner. The time-stained gables, surmounted63 by round stone balls, stood out in the sunshine, and the 16dark tiles of the roof peeped out here and there from their snowy covering. The two friends flew to the west side of the mansion, which overlooked a smooth grassy64 terrace and garden. Beyond was a lake, and then came a wood behind which the sun sank, each evening, to rest. Gray gables rose on this side of the house also, and there was a large bay window which the Blackbird soon discovered to be the window of the dining-room. There were some thick laurel-bushes beyond this window, to which the two birds flew, and then they stopped to rest and look about them. The Blackbird gazed admiringly at the old house, and with especial interest at the bay window.
Standing there was quite the dearest little couple he had ever seen, a little girl and boy.
The boy was a brave little man of about four years of age, with two dark eyes, and thick curly brown hair. His face was positively65 brimming over with fun and mischief66. Standing by his side, and clasping his hand with plump little fingers, was a little girl of some two and a half years. She had a round baby face, gray eyes, and the sweet bloom 17of babyhood was on her cheek. Her eyes had that wondering, far-away look, which is so very bewitching in quite little children, and her small rosy67 mouth showed some very white teeth, especially when she laughed, which was not by any means seldom.
It was evident that these little ones were waiting for something of interest, for they stood very patiently, and their eyes were fixed68 on the grass beneath the fir-trees. At the moment we are describing the redbreast flew from one laurel-bush to another, and then with a shout of delight, the little children suddenly disappeared from the window. In a minute however they were back again with faces full of expectation and importance, bearing between them a plate of bread which had been carefully broken into small pieces.
One of the large windows, which opened to the ground, was then flung back, and the little boy, advancing carefully, scattered69 the crumbs70 on the gravel path just beyond the window. The window was then softly closed, and hand-in-hand the little children stood still to watch. The opening and shutting of the window had frightened the Blackbird; 18he had flown to a more distant bush; but as the more courageous71 Robin only fluttered about for a moment, the Blackbird soon came back, and in less than a minute the Robin was upon the gravel path hard at work picking up the dainty white crumbs. The Blackbird still hesitated on the laurel branch, loth to remain, yet fearful to advance, but at last, impelled72 by a sudden pang73 of hunger, he ventured to join his red-breasted friend.
It was a most luxurious74 repast; never before had the Blackbird tasted food half so delicious. It is true that he got one or two frights, for once the little girl was so delighted at the sight of both birds devouring75 the crumbs, that she banged her little fat hands against the window-pane, dancing at the same time with delight. This gambol76 fairly startled their feathered guests, and frightened them away for a minute or two, but they were soon back again, and then the Blackbird saw that the boy was carefully holding his sister’s hands to keep her quiet.
Each morning found the little eager faces waiting at the window, and each morning also found the two expectant birds perched on the laurel-bushes. The 19feathered company was soon swelled77 by the arrival of some impudent78 and very quarrelsome sparrows, a pair of chaffinches, and a darling little blue titmouse, who, with his cousin a cole-titmouse, soon became quite at their ease. By common consent all the other birds avoided the sparrows. “They are common, idle creatures, you know,” said the Robin, “and none of us care to associate with such low, vulgar birds.”
The Blackbird, through the kindness of his little friend the Robin, soon got acquainted with many other birds, and indeed he grew quite intimate with a gaily79 apparelled Goldfinch. However, notwithstanding all this, the Blackbird found it difficult to make friends, and could never be quite so much at his ease as his more sociable80 red-breasted companion.
One day the Robin confided81 to the Blackbird a great discovery that he and the Goldfinch had made. They had come upon a large barn, and there, close to the roof, they had found a small hole. It was very small indeed, but, after some hesitation82, they had squeezed through it, and had found themselves in a large room filled with huge sacks of corn, oats and barley83. Their delight at this discovery was 20not to be described, any more than the feast they subsequently made. Mice, and even rats, were scampering84 about in every direction, gnawing85 holes in the sacks, and getting into all manner of mischief.
“We were afraid of the rats at first,” said the Robin, “but we soon found that they were much too busy to trouble their heads about us. The Goldfinch is very anxious that the sparrows should not find out this barn. They are greedy and quarrelsome, and would keep it all to themselves, and try to turn us out.”
The Blackbird soon found his way to the corn sacks, but he and his friends were uncommonly86 circumspect87 whenever they met any sparrows. They would even pretend that they were going in quite another direction; they would fly straight by the barn, and then wait patiently in a neighbouring tree or hedgerow, and not return till they were certain of not being noticed.
It must be confessed that the process of squeezing through the small dark hole was not altogether an agreeable arrangement, it sadly disturbed our smart friend’s smooth, glossy feathers. The mice too, to say 21nothing of the rats, were not congenial companions. But the corn was so good that it made amends88 for all these drawbacks.
Thus the winter passed by very happily, and what with the berries, red and black, the corn, and best of all, the crumbs, the Blackbird never wanted for food.
Not the least pleasant part of the day was the morning, when he paid his visit to the bay window, where the little children were always ready for him. No wonder he grew very fond of them, and soon learnt their names, “Willie” and “Alice,” which he would often repeat to himself as he fell asleep in the ivy, and thought of the little boy and girl fast asleep too, and of the happy meeting which they were all looking forward to in the morning.
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1
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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dabs
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| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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flake
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| v.使成薄片；雪片般落下；n.薄片 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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spoke
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| 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 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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50
hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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gambol
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| v.欢呼，雀跃 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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83
barley
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| n.大麦，大麦粒 | |
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84
scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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86
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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88
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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