'Soon as you lift the latch1, little ones are meeting you,
Soon as you're 'neath the thatch2, kindly3 looks are greeting you;
Scarcely have you time to be holding out the fist to them--
Down by the fireside you're sitting in the midst of them.'
Francis Fahy.
Roothythanthrum Cottage,
Knockcool, County Tyrone.
Of course, we have always intended sooner or later to forsake4 this life of hotels and lodgings5, and become either Irish landlords or tenants6, or both, with a view to the better understanding of one burning Irish question. We heard of a charming house in County Down, which could be secured by renting it the first of May for the season; but as we could occupy it only for a month at most we were obliged to forego the opportunity.
"We have been told from time immemorial that absenteeism has been one of the curses of Ireland," I remarked to Salemina; "so, whatever the charms of the cottage in Rostrevor, do not let us take it, and in so doing become absentee landlords."
"It was you two who hired the 'wee theekit hoosie' in Pettybaw," said Francesca. "I am going to be in the vanguard of the next house-hunting expedition; in fact, I have almost made up my mind to take my third of Benella and be an independent householder for a time. If I am ever to learn the management of an establishment before beginning to experiment on Ronald's, now is the proper moment."
"Ronald must have looked the future in the face when he asked you to marry him," I replied, "although it is possible that he looked only at you, and therefore it is his duty to endure your maiden9 incapacities; but why should Salemina and I suffer you to experiment upon us, pray?"
It was Benella, after all, who inveigled10 us into making our first political misstep; for, after avoiding the sin of absenteeism, we fell into one almost as black, inasmuch as we evicted11 a tenant7. It is part of Benella's heterogeneous12 and unusual duty to take a bicycle and scour13 the country in search of information for us: to find out where shops are, post-office, lodgings, places for good sketches14, ruins, pretty roads for walks and drives, and many other things, too numerous to mention. She came home from one of these expeditions flushed with triumph.
"I've got you a house!" she exclaimed proudly. "There's a lady in it now, but she'll move out to-morrow when we move in; and we are to pay seventeen dollars fifty--I mean three pound ten--a week for the house, with privilege of renewal15, and she throws in the hired girl." (Benella is hopelessly provincial16 in the matter of language: butler, chef, boots, footman, scullery-maid, all come under the generic17 term of 'help.')
"I knew our week at this hotel was out to-morrow," she continued, "and we've about used up this place, anyway, and the new village that I've b'en to is the prettiest place we've seen yet; it's got an up-and-down hill to it, just like home, and the house I've partly rented is opposite a fair green, where there's a market every week, and Wednesday's the day; and we'll save money, for I shan't cost you so much when we can housekeep18."
"Would you mind explaining a little more in detail," asked Salemina quietly, "and telling me whether you have hired the house for yourself or for us?"
"For us all," she replied genially--"you don't suppose I'd leave you? I liked the looks of this cottage the first time I passed it, and I got acquainted with the hired girl by going in the side yard and asking for a drink. The next time I went I got acquainted with the lady, who's got the most outlandish name that ever was wrote down, and here it is on a paper; and to-day I asked her if she didn't want to rent her house for a week to three quiet ladies without children and only one of them married and him away. She said it wa'n't her own, and I asked her if she couldn't sublet20 to desirable parties--I knew she was as poor as Job's turkey by her looks; and she said it would suit her well enough, if she had any place to go. I asked her if she wouldn't like to travel, and she said no. Then I says, 'Wouldn't you like to go to visit some of your folks?' And she said she s'posed she could stop a week with her son's wife, just to oblige us. So I engaged a car to drive you down this afternoon just to look at the place; and if you like it we can easy move over to-morrow. The sun's so hot I asked the stableman if he hadn't got a top buggy, or a surrey, or a carryall; but he never heard tell of any of 'em; he didn't even know a shay. I forgot to tell you the lady is a Protestant, and the hired girl's name is Bridget Thunder, and she's a Roman Catholic, but she seems extra smart and neat. I was kind of in hopes she wouldn't be, for I thought I should enjoy trainin' her, and doin' that much for the country."
And so we drove over to this village of Knockcool (Knockcool, by the way, means 'Hill of Sleep'), as much to make amends22 for Benella's eccentricities23 as with any idea of falling in with her proposal. The house proved everything she said, and in Mrs. Wogan Odevaine Benella had found a person every whit24 as remarkable25 as herself. She is evidently an Irish gentlewoman of very small means, very flexible in her views and convictions, very talkative and amusing, and very much impressed with Benella as a product of New England institutions. We all took a fancy to one another at first sight, and we heard with real pleasure that her son's wife lived only a few miles away. We insisted on paying the evicted lady the three pounds ten in advance for the first week. She seemed surprised, and we remembered that Irish tenants, though often capable of shedding blood for a good landlord, are generally averse26 to paying him rent. Mrs. Wogan Odevaine then drove away in high good humour, taking some personal belongings27 with her, and promising29 to drink tea with us some time during the week. She kissed Francesca good-bye, told her she was the prettiest creature she had ever seen, and asked if she might have a peep at all her hats and frocks when she came to visit us.
Salemina says that Rhododendron Cottage (pronounced by Bridget Thunder 'Roothythanthrum') being the property of one landlord and the residence of four tenants at the same time makes us in a sense participators in the old system of rundale tenure30, long since abolished. The good-will or tenant-right was infinitely31 subdivided32, and the tiniest holdings sometimes existed in thirty-two pieces. The result of this joint33 tenure was an extraordinary tangle34, particularly when it went so far as the subdivision of 'one cow's grass,' or even of a horse, which, being owned jointly35 by three men, ultimately went lame36, because none of them would pay for shoeing the fourth foot.
We have been here five days, and instead of reproving Benella, as we intended, for gross assumption of authority in the matter, we are more than ever her bond-slaves. The place is altogether charming, and here it is for you.
Knockcool Street is Knockcool village itself, as with almost all Irish towns; but the line of little thatched cabins is brightened at the far end by the neat house of Mrs. Wogan Odevaine, set a trifle back in its own garden, by the pillared porch of a modest hotel, and by the barracks of the Royal Irish Constabulary. The sign of the Provincial Bank of Ireland almost faces our windows; and although it is used as a meal-shop the rest of the week, they tell us that two thousand pounds in money is needed there on fair-days. Next to it is a little house, the upper part of which is used as a Methodist chapel37; and old Nancy, the caretaker, is already a good friend of ours. It is a humble38 house of prayer, but Nancy takes much pride in it, and showed us the melodeon, 'worked by a young lady from Rossantach,' the Sunday-school rooms, and even the cupboard where she keeps the jugs39 for the love-feast and the linen40 and wine for the sacrament, which is administered once in three years. Next comes the Hoeys' cabin, where we have always a cordial welcome, but where we never go all together, for fear of embarrassing the family, which is a large one--three generations under one roof, and plenty of children in the last. Old Mrs. Hoey does not rightly know her age, she says; but her daughter Ellen was born the year of the Big Wind, and she herself was twenty-two when she was married, and you might allow a year between that and when Ellen was born, and make your own calculation.
She tells many stories of the Big Wind, which we learn was in 1839, making Ellen's age about sixty-one and her mother's eighty-four. The fury of the storm was such that it forced the water of the Lough far ashore41, stranding42 the fish among the rocks, where they were found dead by hundreds. When next morning dawned there was confusion and ruin on every side: the cross had tumbled from the chapel, the tombstones were overturned in the graveyard43, trees and branches blocked the roadways, cabins were stripped of their thatches44, and cattle found dead in the fields; so it is small wonder old Mrs. Hoey remembers the day of Ellen's birth, weak as she is on all other dates.
Ellen's husband, Miles M'Gillan, is the carpenter on an estate in the neighbourhood. His shop opens out of the cabin, and I love to sit by the Hoey fireside, where the fan bellows45, turned by a crank, brings in an instant a fresh flame to the sods of smouldering turf, and watch a wee Colleen Bawn playing among her daddy's shavings, tying them about her waist and fat wrists, hanging them on her ears and in among her brown curls. Mother Hoey says that I do not speak like an American--that I have not so many 'caperin's' in my language, whatever they may be; and so we have long delightful46 chats together when I go in for a taste of Ellen's griddle bread, cooked over the peat coals. Francesca, meantime, is calling on Mrs. O'Rourke, whose son has taken more than fifty bicycle prizes; and no stranger can come to Knockcool without inspecting the brave show of silver, medals, and china that adorn47 the bedroom, and make the O'Rourkes the proudest couple in ould Donegal. Phelim O'Rourke smokes his dudeen on a bench by the door, and invites the passer-by to enter and examine the trophies48. His trousers are held up with bits of rope arranged as suspenders; indeed, his toilet is so much a matter of strings49 that it must be a work of time to tie on his clothing in the morning, in case he takes it off at night, which is open to doubt; nevertheless it is he that's the satisfied man, and the luck would be on him as well as on e'er a man alive, were he not kilt wid the cough intirely! Mrs. Phelim's skirt shows a triangle of red flannel50 behind, where the two ends of the waistband fail to meet by about six inches, but are held together by a piece of white ball fringe. Any informality in this part of her costume is, however, more than atoned51 for by the presence of a dingy52 bonnet53 of magenta54 velvet55, which she always dons for visitors.
The O'Rourke family is the essence of hospitality, so their kitchen is generally full of children and visitors; and on the occasion when Salemina issued from the prize bedroom, the guests were so busy with conversation that, to use their own language, divil a wan19 of thim clapt eyes on the O'Rourke puppy, and they did not notice that the baste56 was floundering in a tub of soft, newly made butter standing8 on the floor. He was indeed desperately57 involved, being so completely wound up in the waxy58 mass that he could not climb over the tub's edge. He looked comical and miserable59 enough in his plight60: the children and the visitors thought so, and so did Francesca and I; but Salemina went directly home, and kept her room for an hour. She is so sensitive! Och, thin, it's herself that's the marthyr intirely! We cannot see that the incident affects us so long as we avoid the O'Rourkes' butter; but she says, covering her eyes with her handkerchief and shuddering61: "Suppose there are other tubs and other pup--Oh, I cannot bear the thought of it, dears! Please change the subject, and order me two hard-boiled eggs for dinner."
Leaving Knockcool behind us, we walk along the country road between high, thick hedges: here a clump62 of weather-beaten trees, there a stretch of bog63 with silver pools and piles of black turf, then a sudden view of hazy64 hills, a grove65 of beeches66, a great house with a splendid gateway67, and sometimes, riding through it, a figure new to our eyes, a Lady Master of the Hounds, handsome in her habit with red facings. We pass many an 'evicted farm,' the ruined house with the rushes growing all about it, and a lonely goat browsing68 near; and on we walk, until we can see the roofs of Lisdara's solitary69 cabin row, huddled70 under the shadow of a gloomy hill topped by the ruins of an old fort. All is silent, and the blue haze71 of the peat smoke curls up from the thatch. Lisdara's young people have mostly gone to the Big Country; and how many tears have dropped on the path we are treading, as Peggy and Mary, Cormac and Miles, with a wooden box in the donkey cart behind them, or perhaps with only a bundle hanging from a blackthorn stick, have come down the hill to seek their fortune! Perhaps Peggy is barefooted; perhaps Mary has little luggage beyond a pot of shamrock or a mountain thrush in a wicker cage; but what matter for that? They are used to poverty and hardship and hunger, and although they are going quite penniless to a new country, sure it can be no worse than the old. This is the happy-go-lucky Irish philosophy, and there is mixed with it a deal of simple trust in God.
How many exiles and wanderers, both those who have no fortune and those who have failed to win it, dream of these cabin rows, these sweet-scented boreens with their 'banks of furze unprofitably gay,' these leaking thatches with the purple loosestrife growing in their ragged72 seams, and, looking backward across the distance of time and space, give the humble spot a tender thought, because after all it was in their dear native isle73!
'Pearly are the skies in the country of my fathers,
Purple are thy mountains, home of my heart;
Mother of my yearning74, love of all my longings28,
Keep me in remembrance long leagues apart.'
I have been thinking in this strain because of an old dame75 in the first cabin in Lisdara row, whose daughter is in America, and who can talk of nothing else. She shows us the last letter, with its postal76 order for sixteen shillings, that Mida sent from New York, with little presents for blind Timsy, 'dark since he were three years old,' and for lame Dan, or the 'Bocca,' as he is called in Lisdara. Mida was named for the virgin77 saint of Killeedy in Limerick. [*] "And it's she that's good enough to bear a saint's name, glory be to God!" exclaims the old mother returning Mida's photograph to a hole in the wall where the pig cannot possibly molest78 it.
* Saint Mide, the Brigit of Munster.
At the far end of the row lives 'Omadhaun Pat.' He is a 'little sthrange,' you understand; not because he was born with too small a share of wit, but because he fell asleep one evening when he was lying on the grass up by the old fort, and--'well, he was niver the same thing since.' There are places in Ireland, you must know, where if you lie down upon the green earth and sink into untimely slumber79, you will 'wake silly'; or, for that matter, although it is doubtless a risk, you may escape the fate of waking silly, and wake a poet! Carolan fell asleep upon a faery rath, and it was the faeries who filled his ears with music, so that he was haunted by the tunes80 ever afterward81; and perhaps all poets, whether they are conscious of it or not, fall asleep on faery raths before they write sweet songs.
Little Omadhaun Pat is pale, hollow-eyed, and thin; but that, his mother says, is 'because he is over-studyin' for his confirmation82.' The great day is many weeks away, but to me it seems likely that, when the examination comes, Pat will be where he will know more than the priests!
Next door lives old Biddy Tuke. She is too aged21 to work, and she sits in her doorway83, always a pleasant figure in her short woollen petticoat, her little shawl, and her neat white cap. She has pitaties for food, with stirabout of Indian meal once a day (oatmeal is too dear), tea occasionally when there is sixpence left from the rent, and she has more than once tasted bacon in her eighty years of life; more than once, she tells me proudly, for it's she that's had the good sons to help her a bit now and then,--four to carry her and one to walk after, which is the Irish notion of an ideal family.
"It's no chuckens I do be havin' now, ma'am," she says, "but it's a darlin' flock I had ten year ago, whin Dinnis was harvestin' in Scotland! Sure it was two-and-twinty chuckens I had on the floore wid meself that year, ma'am."
"Oh, it's a conthrary world, that's a mortial fact!" as Phelim O'Rourke is wont84 to say when his cough is bad; and for my life I can frame no better wish for ould Biddy Tuke and Omadhaun Pat, dark Timsy and the Bocca, than that they might wake, one of these summer mornings, in the harvest-field of the seventh heaven. That place is reserved for the saints, and surely these unfortunates, acquainted with grief like Another, might without difficulty find entrance there.
I am not wise enough to say how much of all this squalor and wretchedness and hunger is the fault of the people themselves, how much of it belongs to circumstances and environment, how much is the result of past errors of government, how much is race, how much is religion. I only know that children should never be hungry, that there are ignorant human creatures to be taught how to live; and if it is a hard task, the sooner it is begun the better, both for teachers and pupils. It is comparatively easy to form opinions and devise remedies, when one knows the absolute truth of things; but it is so difficult to find the truth here, or at least there are so many and such different truths to weigh in the balance,--the Protestant and the Roman Catholic truth, the landlord's and the tenant's, the Nationalist's and the Unionist's truth! I am sadly befogged, and so, pushing the vexing85 questions all aside, I take dark Timsy, Bocca Lynch, and Omadhaun Pat up on the green hillside near the ruined fort, to tell them stories, and teach them some of the thousand things that happier, luckier children know.
This is an island of anomalies: the Irish peasants will puzzle you, perplex you, disappoint you with their inconsistencies, but keep from liking86 them if you can! There are a few cleaner and more comfortable homes in Lisdara and Knockcool than when we came, and Benella has been invaluable87, although her reforms, as might be expected, are of an unusual character, and with her the wheels of progress never move silently, as they should, but always squeak88. With the two golden sovereigns given her to spend, she has bought scissors, knives, hammers, boards, sewing materials, knitting needles, and yarn,--everything to work with, and nothing to eat, drink, or wear, though Heaven knows there is little enough of such things in Lisdara.
"The quicker you wear 'em out, the better you'll suit me," she says to the awestricken Lisdarians. "I'm a workin' woman myself, an' it's my ladies' money I've spent this time; but I'll make out to keep you in brooms and scrubbin' brushes, if only you'll use 'em! You mustn't take offence at anything I say to you, for I'm part Irish--my grandmother was Mary Boyce of Trim; and if she hadn't come away and settled in Salem, Massachusetts, mebbe I wouldn't have known a scrubbin' brush by sight myself!"
1 latch | |
n.门闩,窗闩;弹簧锁 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 thatch | |
vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部;n.茅草(屋) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 forsake | |
vt.遗弃,抛弃;舍弃,放弃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 tenants | |
n.房客( tenant的名词复数 );佃户;占用者;占有者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 tenant | |
n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 inveigled | |
v.诱骗,引诱( inveigle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 evicted | |
v.(依法从房屋里或土地上)驱逐,赶出( evict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 heterogeneous | |
adj.庞杂的;异类的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 scour | |
v.搜索;擦,洗,腹泻,冲刷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 sketches | |
n.草图( sketch的名词复数 );素描;速写;梗概 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 renewal | |
adj.(契约)延期,续订,更新,复活,重来 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 generic | |
adj.一般的,普通的,共有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 housekeep | |
vi.自立门户,主持家务 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 wan | |
(wide area network)广域网 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 sublet | |
v.转租;分租 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 amends | |
n. 赔偿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 eccentricities | |
n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 );反常;怪癖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 whit | |
n.一点,丝毫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 belongings | |
n.私人物品,私人财物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 longings | |
渴望,盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 tenure | |
n.终身职位;任期;(土地)保有权,保有期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 subdivided | |
再分,细分( subdivide的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 jointly | |
ad.联合地,共同地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 jugs | |
(有柄及小口的)水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 ashore | |
adv.在(向)岸上,上岸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 stranding | |
n.(船只)搁浅v.使滞留,使搁浅( strand的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 graveyard | |
n.坟场 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 thatches | |
n.(稻草、芦苇等盖的)茅草屋顶( thatch的名词复数 );乱蓬蓬的头发,又脏又乱的头发 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 bellows | |
n.风箱;发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的名词复数 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的第三人称单数 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 adorn | |
vt.使美化,装饰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 trophies | |
n.(为竞赛获胜者颁发的)奖品( trophy的名词复数 );奖杯;(尤指狩猎或战争中获得的)纪念品;(用于比赛或赛跑名称)奖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 strings | |
n.弦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 flannel | |
n.法兰绒;法兰绒衣服 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 atoned | |
v.补偿,赎(罪)( atone的过去式和过去分词 );补偿,弥补,赎回 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 bonnet | |
n.无边女帽;童帽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 magenta | |
n..紫红色(的染料);adj.紫红色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 baste | |
v.殴打,公开责骂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 waxy | |
adj.苍白的;光滑的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 plight | |
n.困境,境况,誓约,艰难;vt.宣誓,保证,约定 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 shuddering | |
v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 clump | |
n.树丛,草丛;vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 bog | |
n.沼泽;室...陷入泥淖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 hazy | |
adj.有薄雾的,朦胧的;不肯定的,模糊的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 beeches | |
n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 );山毛榉木材 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 gateway | |
n.大门口,出入口,途径,方法 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 browsing | |
v.吃草( browse的现在分词 );随意翻阅;(在商店里)随便看看;(在计算机上)浏览信息 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 huddled | |
挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 haze | |
n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 dame | |
n.女士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 postal | |
adj.邮政的,邮局的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 molest | |
vt.骚扰,干扰,调戏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 tunes | |
n.曲调,曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 );调整;(给收音机、电视等)调谐;使协调 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 vexing | |
adj.使人烦恼的,使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 invaluable | |
adj.无价的,非常宝贵的,极为贵重的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 squeak | |
n.吱吱声,逃脱;v.(发出)吱吱叫,侥幸通过;(俚)告密 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |