By Cauk and keel to win your bread,
Wi’ whigmaleeries for them wha need,
Whilk is a gentle trade indeed
To carry the gaberlunzie on.
Old Song.
FEW have been in my secret while I was compiling these narratives1, nor is it probable that they will ever become public during the life of their author. Even were that event to happen, I am not ambitious of the honoured distinction, digito monstrari. I confess that, were it safe to cherish such dreams at all, I should more enjoy the thought of remaining behind the curtain unseen, like the ingenious manager of Punch and his wife Joan, and enjoying the astonishment4 and conjectures6 of my audience. Then might I, perchance, hear the productions of the obscure Peter Pattieson praised by the judicious7 and admired by the feeling, engrossing8 the young and attracting even the old; while the critic traced their fame up to some name of literary celebrity10, and the question when, and by whom, these tales were written filled up the pause of conversation in a hundred circles and coteries11. This I may never enjoy during my lifetime; but farther than this, I am certain, my vanity should never induce me to aspire12.
I am too stubborn in habits, and too little polished in manners, to envy or aspire to the honours assigned to my literary contemporaries. I could not think a whit13 more highly of myself were I found worthy14 to “come in place as a lion” for a winter in the great metropolis15. I could not rise, turn round, and show all my honours, from the shaggy mane to the tufted tail, “roar you an’t were any nightingale,” and so lie down again like a well-behaved beast of show, and all at the cheap and easy rate of a cup of coffee and a slice of bread and butter as thin as a wafer. And I could ill stomach the fulsome16 flattery with which the lady of the evening indulges her show-monsters on such occasions, as she crams17 her parrots with sugar-plums, in order to make them talk before company. I cannot be tempted18 to “come aloft” for these marks of distinction, and, like imprisoned19 Samson, I would rather remain — if such must be the alternative — all my life in the mill-house, grinding for my very bread, than be brought forth20 to make sport for the Philistine21 lords and ladies. This proceeds from no dislike, real or affected22, to the aristocracy of these realms. But they have their place, and I have mine; and, like the iron and earthen vessels23 in the old fable24, we can scarce come into collision without my being the sufferer in every sense. It may be otherwise with the sheets which I am now writing. These may be opened and laid aside at pleasure; by amusing themselves with the perusal25, the great will excite no false hopes; by neglecting or condemning26 them, they will inflict27 no pain; and how seldom can they converse28 with those whose minds have toiled29 for their delight without doing either the one or the other.
In the better and wiser tone of feeling with Ovid only expresses in one line to retract31 in that which follows, I can address these quires —
Parve, nec invideo, sine me, liber, ibis in urbem.
Nor do I join the regret of the illustrious exile, that he himself could not in person accompany the volume, which he sent forth to the mart of literature, pleasure, and luxury. Were there not a hundred similar instances on record, the rate of my poor friend and school-fellow, Dick Tinto, would be sufficient to warn me against seeking happiness in the celebrity which attaches itself to a successful cultivator of the fine arts.
Dick Tinto, when he wrote himself artist, was wont32 to derive33 his origin from the ancient family of Tinto, of that ilk, in Lanarkshire, and occasionally hinted that he had somewhat derogated from his gentle blood in using the pencil for his principal means of support. But if Dick’s pedigree was correct, some of his ancestors must have suffered a more heavy declension, since the good man his father executed the necessary, and, I trust, the honest, but certainly not very distinguished34, employment of tailor in ordinary to the village of Langdirdum in the west.. Under his humble35 roof was Richard born, and to his father’s humble trade was Richard, greatly contrary to his inclination36, early indentured37. Old Mr. Tinto had, however, no reason to congratulate himself upon having compelled the youthful genius of his son to forsake38 its natural bent39. He fared like the school-boy who attempts to stop with his finger the spout40 of a water cistern41, while the stream, exasperated42 at this compression, escapes by a thousand uncalculated spurts43, and wets him all over for his pains. Even so fared the senior Tinto, when his hopeful apprentice44 not only exhausted45 all the chalk in making sketches47 upon the shopboard, but even executed several caricatures of his father’s best customers, who began loudly to murmur48, that it was too hard to have their persons deformed49 by the vestments of the father, and to be at the same time turned into ridicule50 by the pencil of the son. This led to discredit51 and loss of practice, until the old tailor, yielding to destiny and to the entreaties52 of his son, permitted him to attempt his fortune in a line for which he was better qualified53.
There was about this time, in the village of Langdirdum, a peripatetic54 brother of the brush, who exercised his vocation55 sub Jove frigido, the object of admiration56 of all the boys of the village, but especially to Dick Tinto. The age had not yet adopted, amongst other unworthy retrenchments, that illiberal57 measure of economy which, supplying by written characters the lack of symbolical58 representation, closes one open and easily accessible avenue of instruction and emolument59 against the students of the fine arts. It was not yet permitted to write upon the plastered doorway60 of an alehouse, or the suspended sign of an inn, “The Old Magpie,” or “The Saracen’s Head,” substituting that cold description for the lively effigies61 of the plumed62 chatterer, or the turban’d frown of the terrific soldan. That early and more simple age considered alike the necessities of all ranks, and depicted63 the symbols of good cheer so as to be obvious to all capacities; well judging that a man who could not read a syllable64 might nevertheless love a pot of good ale as well as his better-educated neighbours, or even as the parson himself. Acting9 upon this liberal principle, publicans as yet hung forth the painted emblems65 of their calling, and sign-painters, if they seldom feasted, did not at least absolutely starve.
To a worthy of this decayed profession, as we have already intimated, Dick Tinto became an assistant; and thus, as is not unusual among heaven-born geniuses in this department of the fine arts, began to paint before he had any notion of drawing.
His talent for observing nature soon induced him to rectify67 the errors, and soar above the instructions, of his teacher. He particularly shone in painting horses, that being a favourite sign in the Scottish villages; and, in tracing his progress, it is beautiful to observe how by degrees he learned to shorten the backs and prolong the legs of these noble animals, until they came to look less like crocodiles, and more like nags68. Detraction69, which always pursues merit with strides proportioned to its advancement70, has indeed alleged71 that Dick once upon a time painted a horse with five legs, instead of four. I might have rested his defence upon the license72 allowed to that branch of his profession, which, as it permits all sorts of singular and irregular combinations, may be allowed to extend itself so far as to bestow73 a limb supernumerary on a favourite subject. But the cause of a deceased friend is sacred; and I disdain74 to bottom it so superficially. I have visited the sign in question, which yet swings exalted75 in the village of Langdirdum; and I am ready to depone upon the oath that what has been idly mistaken or misrepresented as being the fifth leg of the horse, is, in fact, the tail of that quadruped, and, considered with reference to the posture76 in which he is delineated, forms a circumstance introduced and managed with great and successful, though daring, art. The nag3 being represented in a rampant78 or rearing posture, the tail, which is prolonged till it touches the ground, appears to form a point d’appui, and gives the firmness of a tripod to the figure, without which it would be difficult to conceive, placed as the feet are, how the courser could maintain his ground without tumbling backwards79. This bold conception has fortunately fallen into the custody80 of one by whom it is duly valued; for, when Dick, in his more advanced state of proficiency81, became dubious82 of the propriety83 of so daring a deviation84 to execute a picture of the publican himself in exchange for this juvenile85 production, the courteous86 offer was declined by his judicious employer, who had observed, it seems, that when his ale failed to do its duty in conciliating his guests, one glance at his sign was sure to put them in good humour.
It would be foreign to my present purpose to trace the steps by which Dick Tinto improved his touch, and corrected, by the rules of art, the luxuriance of a fervid87 imagination. The scales fell from his eyes on viewing the sketches of a contemporary, the Scottish Teniers, as Wilkie has been deservedly styled. He threw down the brush took up the crayons, and, amid hunger and toil30, and suspense88 and uncertainty89, pursued the path of his profession under better auspices90 than those of his original master. Still the first rude emanations of his genius, like the nursery rhymes of Pope, could these be recovered, will be dear to the companions of Dick Tinto’s youth. There is a tankard and gridiron painted over the door of an obscure change-house in the Back Wynd of Gandercleugh —— But I feel I must tear myself from the subject, or dwell on it too long.
Amid his wants and struggles, Dick Tinto had recourse, like his brethren, to levying91 that tax upon the vanity of mankind which he could not extract from their taste and liberality — on a word, he painted portraits. It was in this more advanced state of proficiency, when Dick had soared above his original line of business, and highly disdained92 any allusion93 to it, that, after having been estranged94 for several years, we again met in the village of Gandercleugh, I holding my present situation, and Dick painting copies of the human face divine at a guinea per head. This was a small premium95, yet, in the first burst of business, it more than sufficed for all Dick’s moderate wants; so that he occupied an apartment at the Wallace Inn, cracked his jest with impunity96 even upon mine host himself, and lived in respect and observance with the chambermaid, hostler, and waiter.
Those halcyon97 days were too serene98 to last long. When his honour the Laird of Gandercleugh, with his wife and three daughters, the minister, the gauger99, mine esteemed100 patron Mr. Jedediah Cleishbotham, and some round dozen of the feuars and farmers, had been consigned101 to immortality102 by Tinto’s brush, custom began to slacken, and it was impossible to wring103 more than crowns and half-crowns from the hard hands of the peasants whose ambition led them to Dick’s painting-room.
Still, though the horizon was overclouded, no storm for some time ensued. Mine host had Christian104 faith with a lodger105 who had been a good paymaster as long as he had the means. And from a portrait of our landlord himself, grouped with his wife and daughters, in the style of Rubens, which suddenly appeared in the best parlour, it was evident that Dick had found some mode of bartering106 art for the necessaries of life.
Nothing, however, is more precarious107 than resources of this nature. It was observed that Dick became in his turn the whetstone of mine host’s wit, without venturing either at defence or retaliation108; that his easel was transferred to a garret-room, in which there was scarce space for it to stand upright; and that he no longer ventured to join the weekly club, of which he had been once the life and soul. In short, Dick Tinto’s friends feared that he had acted like the animal called the sloth109, which, heaving eaten up the last green leaf upon the tree where it has established itself, ends by tumbling down from the top, and dying of inanition. I ventured to hint this to Dick, recommended his transferring the exercise of his inestimable talent to some other sphere, and forsaking110 the common which he might be said to have eaten bare.
“There is an obstacle to my change of residence,” said my friend, grasping my hand with a look of solemnity.
“A bill due to my landlord, I am afraid?” replied I, with heartfelt sympathy; “if any part of my slender means can assist in this emergence111 ——”
“No, by the soul of Sir Joshua!” answered the generous youth, “I will never involve a friend in the consequences of my own misfortune. There is a mode by which I can regain112 my liberty; and to creep even through a common sewer113 is better than to remain in prison.”
I did not perfectly114 understand what my friend meant. The muse115 of painting appeared to have failed him, and what other goddess he could invoke116 in his distress117 was a mystery to me. We parted, however, without further explanation, and I did not see him until three days after, when he summoned me to partake of the “foy” with which his landlord proposed to regale118 him ere his departure for Edinburgh.
I found Dick in high spirits, whistling while he buckled119 the small knapsack which contained his colours, brushes, pallets, and clean shirt. That he parted on the best terms with mine host was obvious from the cold beef set forth in the low parlour, flanked by two mugs of admirable brown stout120; and I own my curiosity was excited concerning the means through which the face of my friend’s affairs had been so suddenly improved. I did not suspect Dick of dealing121 with the devil, and by what earthly means he had extricated122 himself thus happily I was at a total loss to conjecture5.
He perceived my curiosity, and took me by the hand. “My friend,” he said, “fain would I conceal123, even from you, the degradation124 to which it has been necessary to submit, in order to accomplish an honourable125 retreat from Gandercleaugh. But what avails attempting to conceal that which must needs betray itself even by its superior excellence126? All the village — all the parish — all the world — will soon discover to what poverty has reduced Richard Tinto.”
A sudden thought here struck me. I had observed that our landlord wore, on that memorable127 morning, a pair of bran new velveteens instead of his ancient thicksets.
“What,” said I, drawing my right hand, with the forefinger128 and thumb pressed together, nimbly from my right haunch to my left shoulder, “you have condescended129 to resume the paternal130 arts to which you were first bred — long stitches, ha, Dick?”
He repelled131 this unlucky conjecture with a frown and a pshaw, indicative of indignant contempt, and leading me into another room, showed me, resting against the wall, the majestic132 head of Sir William Wallace, grim as when severed133 from the trunk by the orders of the Edward.
The painting was executed on boards of a substantial thickness, and the top decorated with irons, for suspending the honoured effigy134 upon a signpost.
“There,” he said, “my friend, stands the honour of Scotland, and my shame; yet not so — rather the shame of those who, instead of encouraging art in its proper sphere, reduce it to these unbecoming and unworthy extremities135.”
I endeavoured to smooth the ruffled136 feelings of my misused137 and indignant friend. I reminded him that he ought not, like the stag in the fable, to despise the quality which had extricated him from difficulties, in which his talents, as a portrait or landscape painter, had been found unavailing. Above all, I praised the execution, as well as conception, of his painting, and reminded him that, far from feeling dishonoured138 by so superb a specimen139 of his talents being exposed to the general view of the public, he ought rather to congratulate himself upon the augmentation of his celebrity to which its public exhibition must necessarily give rise.
“You are right, my friend — you are right,” replied poor Dick, his eye kindling140 with enthusiasm; “why should I shun141 the name of an — an —(he hesitated for a phrase)— an out-of-doors artist? Hogarth has introduced himself in that character in one of his best engravings; Domenichino, or somebody else, in ancient times, Morland in our own, have exercised their talents in this manner. And wherefore limit to the rich and higher classes alone the delight which the exhibition of works of art is calculated to inspire into all classes? Statues are placed in the open air, why should Painting be more niggardly142 in displaying her masterpieces than her sister Sculpture? And yet, my friend, we must part suddenly; the carpenter is coming in an hour to put up the — the emblem66; and truly, with all my philosophy, and your consolatory143 encouragement to boot, I would rather wish to leave Gandercleugh before that operation commences.”
We partook of our genial144 host’s parting banquet, and I escorted Dick on his walk to Edinburgh. We parted about a mile from the village, just as we heard the distant cheer of the boys which accompanied the mounting of the new symbol of the Wallace Head. Dick Tinto mended his pace to get out of hearing, so little had either early practice or recent philosophy reconciled him to the character of a sign-painter.
In Edinburgh, Dick’s talents were discovered and appreciated, and he received dinners and hints from several distinguished judges of the fine arts. But these gentlemen dispensed145 their criticism more willingly than their cash, and Dick thought he needed cash more than criticism. He therefore sought London, the universal mart of talent, and where, as is usual in general marts of most descriptions, much more of each commodity is exposed to sale than can ever find purchasers.
Dick, who, in serious earnest, was supposed to have considerable natural talents for his profession, and whose vain and sanguine146 disposition147 never permitted him to doubt for a moment of ultimate success, threw himself headlong into the crowd which jostled and struggled for notice and preferment. He elbowed others, and was elbowed himself; and finally, by dint148 of intrepidity149, fought his way into some notice, painted for the prize at the Institution, had pictures at the exhibition at Somerset House, and damned the hanging committee. But poor Dick was doomed150 to lose the field he fought so gallantly151. In the fine arts, there is scarce an alternative betwixt distinguished success and absolute failure; and as Dick’s zeal152 and industry were unable to ensure the first, he fell into the distresses153 which, in his condition, were the natural consequences of the latter alternative. He was for a time patronised by one or two of those judicious persons who make a virtue154 of being singular, and of pitching their own opinions against those of the world in matters of taste and criticism. But they soon tired of poor Tinto, and laid him down as a load, upon the principle on which a spoilt child throws away its plaything. Misery155, I fear, took him up, and accompanied him to a premature156 grave, to which he was carried from an obscure lodging157 in Swallow Street, where he had been dunned by his landlady158 within doors, and watched by bailiffs without, until death came to his relief. A corner of the Morning Post noticed his death, generously adding, that his manner displayed considerable genius, though his style was rather sketchy159; and referred to an advertisement, which announced that Mr. Varnish160, a well-known printseller, had still on hand a very few drawings and painings by Richard Tinto, Esquire, which those of the nobility and gentry161 who might wish to complete their collections of modern art were invited to visit without delay. So ended Dick Tinto! a lamentable162 proof of the great truth, that in the fine arts mediocrity is not permitted, and that he who cannot ascend163 to the very top of the ladder will do well not to put his foot upon it at all.
The memory of Tinto is dear to me, from the recollection of the many conversations which we have had together, most of them turning upon my present task. He was delighted with my progress, and talked of an ornamented164 and illustrated165 edition, with heads, vignettes, and culs de lampe, all to be designed by his own patriotic166 and friendly pencil. He prevailed upon an old sergeant167 of invalids168 to sit to him in the character of Bothwell, the lifeguard’s-man of Charles the Second, and the bellman of Gandercleugh in that of David Deans. But while he thus proposed to unite his own powers with mine for the illustration of these narratives, he mixed many a dose of salutary criticism with the panegyrics169 which my composition was at times so fortunate as to call forth.
“Your characters,” he said, “my dear Pattieson, make too much use of the gob box; they patter too much (an elegant phraseology which Dick had learned while painting the scenes of an itinerant170 company of players); there is nothing in whole pages but mere171 chat and dialogue.”
“The ancient philosopher,” said I in reply, “was wont to say, ‘Speak, that I may know thee’; and how is it possible for an author to introduce his personae dramatis to his readers in a more interesting and effectual manner than by the dialogue in which each is represented as supporting his own appropriate character?”
“It is a false conclusion,” said Tinto; “I hate it, Peter, as I hate an unfilled can. I grant you, indeed, that speech is a faculty172 of some value in the intercourse173 of human affairs, and I will not even insist on the doctrine174 of that Pythagorean toper, who was of opinion that over a bottle speaking spoiled conversation. But I will not allow that a professor of the fine arts has occasion to embody175 the idea of his scene in language, in order to impress upon the reader its reality and its effect. On the contrary, I will be judged by most of your readers, Peter, should these tales ever become public, whether you have not given us a page of talk for every single idea which two words might have communicated, while the posture, and manner, and incident, accurately176 drawn177, and brougth out by appropriate colouring, would have preserved all that was worthy of preservation178, and saved these everlasting179 ‘said he’s’ and ‘said she’s,’ with which it has been your pleasure to encumber180 your pages.”
I replied, “That he confounded the operations of the pencil and the pen; that the serene and silent art, as painting has been called by one of our first living poets, necessarily appealed to the eye, because it had not the organs for addressing the ear; whereas poetry, or that species of composition which approached to it, lay under the necessity of doing absolutely the reverse, and addressed itself to the ear, for the purpose of exciting that interest which it could not attain181 through the medium of the eye.”
Dick was not a whit staggered by my argument, which he contended was founded on misrepresentation. “Description,” he said, “was to the author of a romance exactly what drawing and tinting182 were to a painter: words were his colours, and, if properly employed, they could not fail to place the scene which he wished to conjure183 up as effectually before the mind’s eye as the tablet or canvas presents it to the bodily organ. The same rules,” he contended, “applied to both, and an exuberance184 of dialogue, in the former case, was a verbose185 and laborious186 mode of composition which went to confound the proper art of fictitious187 narrative2 with that of the drama, a widely different species of composition, of which dialogue was the very essence, because all, excepting the language to be made use of, was presented to the eye by the dresses, and persons, and actions of the performers upon the stage. But as nothing,” said Dick, “can be more dull than a long narrative written upon the plan of a drama, so where you have approached most near to that species of composition, by indulging in prolonged scenes of mere conversation, the course of your story has become chill and constrained188, and you have lost the power of arresting the attention and exciting the imagination, in which upon other occasions you may be considered as having succeeded tolerably well.”
I made my bow in requital189 of the compliment, which was probably thrown in by way of placebo190, and expressed myself willing at least to make one trial of a more straightforward191 style of composition, in which my actors should do more, and say less, than in my former attempts of this kind. Dick gave me a patronising and approving nod, and observed that, finding me so docile192, he would communicate, for the benefit of my muse, a subject which he had studied with a view to his own art.
“The story,” he said, “was, by tradition, affirmed to be truth, although, as upwards193 of a hundred years had passed away since the events took place, some doubts upon the accuracy of all the particulars might be reasonably entertained.”
When Dick Tinto had thus spoken, he rummaged194 his portfolio195 for the sketch46 from which he proposed one day to execute a picture of fourteen feet by eight. The sketch, which was cleverly executed, to use the appropriate phrase, represented an ancient hall, fitted up and furnished in what we now call the taste of Queen Elizabeth’s age. The light, admitted from the upper part of a high casement196, fell upon a female figure of exquisite197 beauty, who, in an attitude of speechless terror, appeared to watch the issue of a debate betwixt two other persons. The one was a young man, in the Vandyke dress common to the time of Charles I., who, with an air of indignant pride, testified by the manner in which he raised his head and extended his arm, seemed to be urging a claim of right, rather than of favour, to a lady whose age, and some resemblance in their features, pointed198 her out as the mother of the younger female, and who appeared to listen with a mixture of displeasure and impatience199.
Tinto produced his sketch with an air of mysterious triumph, and gazed on it as a fond parent looks upon a hopeful child, while he anticipates the future figure he is to make in the world, and the height to which he will raise the honour of his family. He held it at arm’s length from me — he helt it closer — he placed it upon the top of a chest of drawers — closed the lower shutters200 of the casement, to adjust a downward and favourable201 light — fell back to the due distance, dragging me after him — shaded his face with his hand, as if to exclude all but the favourite object — and ended by spoiling a child’s copy-book, which he rolled up so as to serve for the darkened tube of an amateur. I fancy my expressions of enthusiasm had not been in proportion to his own, for he presently exclaimed with vehemence202: “Mr. Pattieson, I used to think you had an eye in your head.”
I vindicated203 my claim to the usual allowance of visual organs.
“Yet, on my honour,” said Dick, “I would swear you had been born blind, since you have failed at the first glance to discover the subject and meaning of that sketch. I do not mean to praise my own performance, I leave these arts to others; I am sensible of my deficiencies, conscious that my drawing and colouring may be improved by the time I intend to dedicate to the art. But the conception — the expression — the positions — these tell the story to every one who looks at the sketch; and if I can finish the picture without diminution204 of the original conception, the name of Tinto shall no more be smothered205 by the mists of envy and intrigue206.”
I replied: “That I admired the sketch exceedingly; but that to understand its full merit, I felt it absolutely necessary to be informed of the subject.”
“That is the very thing I complain of,” answered Tinto; “you have accustomed yourself so much to these creeping twilight207 details of yours, that you are become incapable208 of receiving that instant and vivid flash of conviction which darts209 on the mind from seeing the happy and expressive210 combinations of a single scene, and which gathers from the position, attitude, and countenance211 of the moment, not only the history of the past lives of the personages represented, and the nature of the business on which they are immediately engaged, but lifts even the veil of futurity, and affords a shrewd guess at their future fortunes.”
“In that case,” replied I, “Paining excels the ape of the renowned212 Gines de Passamonte, which only meddled213 with the past and the present; nay214, she excels that very Nature who affords her subject; for I protest to you, Dick, that were I permitted to peep into that Elizabeth-chamber, and see the persons you have sketched215 conversing216 in flesh and blood, I should not be a jot217 nearer guessing the nature of their business than I am at this moment while looking at your sketch. Only generally, from the languishing218 look of the young lady, and the care you have taken to present a very handsome leg on the part of the gentleman, I presume there is some reference to a love affair between them.”
“Do you really presume to form such a bold conjecture?” said Tinto. “And the indignant earnestness with which you see the man urge his suit, the unresisting and passive despair of the younger female, the stern air of inflexible219 determination in the elder woman, whose looks express at once consciousness that she is acting wrong and a firm determination to persist in the course she has adopted ——”
“If her looks express all this, my dear Tinto,” replied I, interrupting him, “your pencil rivals the dramatic art of Mr. Puff220 in The Critic, who crammed221 a whole complicated sentence into the expressive shake of Lord Burleigh’s head.”
“My good friend, Peter,” replied Tinto, “I observe you are perfectly incorrigible222; however, I have compassion223 on your dulness, and am unwilling224 you should be deprived of the pleasure of understanding my picture, and of gaining, at the same time, a subject for your own pen. You must know then, last summer, while I was taking sketches on the coast of East Lothian and Berwickshire, I was seduced225 into the mountains of Lammermoor by the account I received of some remains226 of antiquity227 in that district. Those with which I was most struck were the ruins of an ancient castle in which that Elizabeth-chamber, as you call it, once existed. I resided for two or three days at a farmhouse228 in the neighbourhood, where the aged77 goodwife was well acquainted with the history of the castle, and the events which had taken place in it. One of these was of a nature so interesting and singular, that my attention was divided between my wish to draw the old ruins in landscape, and to represent, in a history-piece, the singular events which have taken place in it. Here are my notes of the tale,” said poor Dick, handing a parcel of loose scraps229, partly scratched over with his pencil, partly with his pen, where outlines of caricatures, sketches of turrets230, mills, old gables, and dovecots, disputed the ground with his written memoranda231.
I proceeded, however, to decipher the substance of the manuscript as well as I could, and move it into the following Tale, in which, following in part, though not entirely232, my friend Tinto’s advice, I endeavoured to render my narrative rather descriptive than dramatic. My favourite propensity233, however, has at times overcome me, and my persons, like many others in this talking world, speak now what then a great deal more than they act.
收听单词发音 |
1
narratives
|
|
| 记叙文( narrative的名词复数 )； 故事； 叙述； 叙述部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
nag
|
|
| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
conjectures
|
|
| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
engrossing
|
|
| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
celebrity
|
|
| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
coteries
|
|
| n.（有共同兴趣的）小集团( coterie的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
12
aspire
|
|
| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
whit
|
|
| n.一点，丝毫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
metropolis
|
|
| n.首府；大城市 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
fulsome
|
|
| adj.可恶的，虚伪的，过分恭维的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
crams
|
|
| v.塞入( cram的第三人称单数 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
philistine
|
|
| n.庸俗的人；adj.市侩的，庸俗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
vessels
|
|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
fable
|
|
| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
perusal
|
|
| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
condemning
|
|
| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
inflict
|
|
| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
converse
|
|
| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
toiled
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
retract
|
|
| vt.缩回，撤回收回，取消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
derive
|
|
| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
indentured
|
|
| v.以契约束缚（学徒）( indenture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
forsake
|
|
| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
spout
|
|
| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
cistern
|
|
| n.贮水池 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
exasperated
|
|
| adj.恼怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
spurts
|
|
| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
apprentice
|
|
| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
deformed
|
|
| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
discredit
|
|
| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
entreaties
|
|
| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
peripatetic
|
|
| adj.漫游的，逍遥派的，巡回的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
vocation
|
|
| n.职业，行业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
illiberal
|
|
| adj.气量狭小的，吝啬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
symbolical
|
|
| a.象征性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
emolument
|
|
| n.报酬，薪水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
effigies
|
|
| n.（人的）雕像，模拟像，肖像( effigy的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
plumed
|
|
| 饰有羽毛的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
depicted
|
|
| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
syllable
|
|
| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
emblems
|
|
| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
emblem
|
|
| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
rectify
|
|
| v.订正，矫正，改正 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
nags
|
|
| n.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的名词复数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的第三人称单数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
detraction
|
|
| n.减损；诽谤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
advancement
|
|
| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
alleged
|
|
| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
exalted
|
|
| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
posture
|
|
| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
rampant
|
|
| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
backwards
|
|
| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
custody
|
|
| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
proficiency
|
|
| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
dubious
|
|
| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
deviation
|
|
| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
juvenile
|
|
| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
fervid
|
|
| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
auspices
|
|
| n.资助，赞助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
levying
|
|
| 征（兵）( levy的现在分词 )； 索取； 发动（战争）； 征税 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
disdained
|
|
| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
estranged
|
|
| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
premium
|
|
| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
impunity
|
|
| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
halcyon
|
|
| n.平静的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
gauger
|
|
| n.收税官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
100
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： |
|
|
|
|
101
consigned
|
|
| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
immortality
|
|
| n.不死，不朽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
wring
|
|
| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
lodger
|
|
| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
bartering
|
|
| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
precarious
|
|
| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
retaliation
|
|
| n.报复，反击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
sloth
|
|
| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
forsaking
|
|
| 放弃( forsake的现在分词 )； 弃绝； 抛弃； 摒弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
emergence
|
|
| n.浮现，显现，出现，（植物）突出体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
regain
|
|
| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
sewer
|
|
| n.排水沟，下水道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
muse
|
|
| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
invoke
|
|
| v.求助于(神、法律)；恳求，乞求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
regale
|
|
| v.取悦，款待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
buckled
|
|
| a. 有带扣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
extricated
|
|
| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
excellence
|
|
| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
forefinger
|
|
| n.食指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
condescended
|
|
| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
repelled
|
|
| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
severed
|
|
| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
effigy
|
|
| n.肖像 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
extremities
|
|
| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
ruffled
|
|
| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
misused
|
|
| v.使用…不当( misuse的过去式和过去分词 )；把…派作不正当的用途；虐待；滥用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
dishonoured
|
|
| a.不光彩的，不名誉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
kindling
|
|
| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
shun
|
|
| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
niggardly
|
|
| adj.吝啬的，很少的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
consolatory
|
|
| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
dispensed
|
|
| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
sanguine
|
|
| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
dint
|
|
| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
intrepidity
|
|
| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
gallantly
|
|
| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
distresses
|
|
| n.悲痛( distress的名词复数 )；痛苦；贫困；危险 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
premature
|
|
| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
landlady
|
|
| n.女房东，女地主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
sketchy
|
|
| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
varnish
|
|
| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
gentry
|
|
| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
lamentable
|
|
| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
ascend
|
|
| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
ornamented
|
|
| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
patriotic
|
|
| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
sergeant
|
|
| n.警官，中士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
invalids
|
|
| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
panegyrics
|
|
| n.赞美( panegyric的名词复数 )；称颂；颂词；颂扬的演讲或文章 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
170
itinerant
|
|
| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
embody
|
|
| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
preservation
|
|
| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
encumber
|
|
| v.阻碍行动，妨碍，堆满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
attain
|
|
| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
tinting
|
|
| 着色，染色（的阶段或过程） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
conjure
|
|
| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
exuberance
|
|
| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
verbose
|
|
| adj.用字多的；冗长的；累赘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
laborious
|
|
| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
fictitious
|
|
| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
constrained
|
|
| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
requital
|
|
| n.酬劳；报复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
placebo
|
|
| n.安慰剂；宽慰话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
straightforward
|
|
| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
docile
|
|
| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
rummaged
|
|
| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
portfolio
|
|
| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
casement
|
|
| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
vehemence
|
|
| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
vindicated
|
|
| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
diminution
|
|
| n.减少；变小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
smothered
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
intrigue
|
|
| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
darts
|
|
| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
renowned
|
|
| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
meddled
|
|
| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
sketched
|
|
| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
conversing
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
jot
|
|
| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
languishing
|
|
| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
inflexible
|
|
| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
puff
|
|
| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
crammed
|
|
| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
incorrigible
|
|
| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
seduced
|
|
| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
antiquity
|
|
| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
farmhouse
|
|
| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
scraps
|
|
| 油渣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
turrets
|
|
| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
memoranda
|
|
| n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
propensity
|
|
| n.倾向；习性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |