The discovery is not a new one. Shakespeare has told us that “Time travels in divers4 paces with divers persons “, and, for me, the poet’s statement is more to the point (and perhaps more true) than the philosopher’s. For I am thinking of one “who Time ambles5 withal “, or even “who he stands still withal”; to wit, myself in the capacity of Dr. Pope’s bottle-boy. That stage of my existence seemed, and still seems, looking back on it, to have lasted for half a life-time; whereas it occupied, in actual fact, but a matter of months.
It came to an end when I was about thirteen, principally by my own act. I had begun to feel that I was making unfair inroads on the family resources, for, though the school that I attended was an inexpensive one, it was not one of the cheapest. Aunt Judy had insisted that I should have a decent education and not mix with boys below our own class, and accordingly she had sent me to the school conducted by the clergy6 man of our parish, the Reverend Stephen Page, which was attended by the sons of the local shop-keepers and better-class working men. But modest as the school fees were, their payment entailed7 some sacrifice; for, though we were not poor, still Uncle Sam’s earnings8 as a journeyman cabinet-maker were only thirty shillings a week. Old Mr. Gollidge, who did light jobs in a carpenter’s shop, made a small contribution, and there was half-a-crown a week from my wages; but, when all was said, it was a tight fit and must have taxed Aunt Judy’s powers of management severely9 to maintain the standard of comfort in which we lived.
Moved by these considerations (and perhaps influenced by the monotonous10 alternation of school and bottle-basket), I ventured to put the case to Aunt Judy and was relieved to find that she took my suggestions seriously and was obviously pleased with me for making them.
“There is something in what you say, Nat,” she admitted. “But remember that your schooling11 has got to last you for life. It’s the foundation that you’ve got to build on, and it would be bad economy to skimp12 that.”
“Quite right,” Uncle Sam chimed in. “You can’t make a mahogany table out of deal. Save on the material at the start and you spoil the job.”
“Still,” I urged, “a penny saved is a penny earned,” at which Aunt Judy laughed and gave me a playful pat on the head.
“You are a queer, old-fashioned boy, Nat,” said she, “but perhaps you are none the worse for that. Well, I’ll see Mr. Page and ask him what he thinks about it, and I shall do exactly what he advises. Will that satisfy you?
I agreed readily enough, having the profoundest respect and admiration13 for my schoolmaster. For the Reverend Stephen Page, though he disdained14 not to teach the sons of working men, was a distinguished15 man in his way. He was a Master of Arts — though of what arts I never discovered — and a Senior Wrangler16. That is what was stated on the School prospectus17, so it must have been true; but I could never understand it, for a less quarrelsome or contentious18 man you could not imagine. At any rate, he was a most unmistakable gentleman, and, if he had taught us nothing else, his example of good manners, courtesy and kindliness19 would have been a liberal education in itself.
I was present at the interview, and very satisfactory I found it. Aunt Judy stated the problem and Mr. Page listened sympathetically. Then he pronounced judgement in terms that rather surprised me as coming from a schoolmaster.
“Education and schooling, Mrs. Gollidge, are not quite the same thing. When a boy leaves school to learn a trade, he is not ending his education. Some might say that he is only beginning it. At any rate, the knowledge and skill by which he will earn his living and maintain his family when he has one, and be a useful member of society, is the really indispensable knowledge. Our young friend has a good groundwork of what simple folk call book-learning, and, if he wants to increase it, there are books from which he can learn. Meanwhile, I don’t think that he is too young to begin the serious business of life.”
That question, then, was settled, and the next one was how the beginning was to be made. As a temporary measure, “while we were looking about”, Uncle Sam managed to plant me on his employer, Mr. Beeby, as workshop boy at a salary of five shillings a week. So it came about that I made my final round with the bottles, handed in the basket for the last time, drew my wages and, on the following morning, set forth20 in company with Uncle Sam en route for Mr. Beeby’s workshop in Broad Street. There was only one occupant when we arrived: a round-shouldered, beetle21 browed, elderly man with rolled-up shirt-sleeves, a linen22 apron23 and a square brown-paper cap such as work men commonly wore in those days, who was operating with a very small saw on a piece of wood that was clamped in the bench-vice. He looked up as we entered and remarked:
“So this is the young shaver, is it? There ain’t much of him. He’ll have to stand on six pennorth of coppers24 if he is going to work at a bench. Never mind, youngster. You’ll be a man before your mother,” and with this he returned to his work with intense concentration (I discovered, presently, that he was cutting the pins of a set of dovetails), and Uncle Sam, having provided me with a broom, set me to work at sweeping25 up the shavings, picking up the little pieces of waste wood and putting them into the large open box in which they were thriftily26 stored for use in odd jobs. Then he took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and put on his apron and paper cap; in which costume he seemed to me to be invested with a new dignity; and when he fell to work with a queer-looking, lean-bodied plane on the edge of a slab27 of mahogany, miraculously28 producing on it an elegant moulding, I felt that I had never properly appreciated him. Presently the third member of the staff arrived, a young journeyman named Will Foster. He had evidently heard of me, for he saluted29 me with a friendly grin and a few words of welcome while he was unrobing and getting into working trim. Then he, too, set to work with an air of business on his particular job, the carcase of a small chest of drawers; and I noticed that each of the three men was engaged on his own piece of work, independently of the others. And this I learned later was Mr. Beeby’s rule, so far as it was practicable. “If a man carries his own job right through,” he once explained to me, “and does it well, he gets all the credit; and if he does it badly, he takes all the blame.” It seemed a sensible rule. But that was an age of individualism.
I shall not follow in detail my experiences during the few months that I spent in Mr. Beeby’s workshop. My service there was but an interlude between school and my real start in life. But it was a useful interlude, and I have never regretted it. As I was not an apprentice30, I received no formal instruction. But little was needed when I had the opportunity of watching three highly expert craftsmen31 and following their methods from the preliminary sketch32 to the finished work; and I did, in fact, get a good many useful tips besides the necessary instruction in my actual duties.
As to these, they gradually extended as time went on from mere33 sweeping, cleaning and tidying to more technical activities, but, from the first, the glue-pots were definitely assigned to me. Once for all, the whole art and mystery of the preparation and care of glue was imparted to me. Every night I emptied and cleaned the glue-pots and put the fresh glue in to soak, for Mr. Beeby would have nothing to do with stale glue; and every morning, as soon as I arrived, I set the pots of fresh glue on the workshop stove. Then, by degrees, I began to learn the use of tools; to saw along a pencil line, to handle a chisel34 and a jack-plane (with the aid of an improvised35 platform to bring my elbows to the bench level) and to use the marking gauge36 and the try-square, so that, presently, I became proficient37 enough to be given small, rough jobs of sawing and planing to save the time of the skilled workmen.
It was all very interesting (what creative work is not?), and I was happy enough in the workshop with its pleasant atmosphere of quiet, unhurried industry. I liked to watch these three skilful38 craftsmen doing difficult things with unconscious ease and a misleading appearance of leisureliness39, and I learned that this apparently40 effortless precision was really the result of habitual41 concentration. The fact was expounded42 to me by Mr. Beeby on an appropriate occasion.
“You’ve given yourself the trouble, my lad, of doing that twice over. Now the way to work quickly is to work carefully. Attend to what you are doing and see that you make no mistakes.” It was a valuable precept43, which I have never forgotten and have always tried to put into practice; indeed, I find myself, to this day, profiting from Mr. Beeby’s practical wisdom.
But though I was interested and happy in my work, my heart was not in cabinet-making. Clocks and watches still held my affections, and, on most evenings, the short interval44 between supper and bedtime was occupied in reading and rereading the books on horology that I possessed45. I now had a quite respect able little library; for my good friend, Mr. Strutt, the Wardour Street bookseller, was wont46 to put aside for me any works on the subject that came into his hands, and I suspect that, in the matter of price, he frequently tempered the wind to the shorn lamb.
Thus, though I went about my work contentedly47, there lurked48 always at the back of my mind the hope that some day a chance might present itself for me to get a start on the career of a clock-maker. Apprenticeship49 was not to be thought of, for the family resources were not equal to a premium50. But there might be other ways. Meanwhile, I tended the glue-pots and cherished my dream in secret; and in due course, by very indirect means, the dream became a reality.
The chance came, all unperceived at first, on a certain morning in the sixth month of my servitude, when a burly, elderly man came into the workshop carrying a brown-paper parcel. I recognized him instantly as Mr. Abraham, the clock-maker, whose shop in Foubert’s Place had been familiar to me since my earliest childhood, and I cast an inquisitive51 eye on the parcel as he unfastened it on the bench, watched impassively by Mr. Beeby. To my disappointment, the unwrapping disclosed only an empty clock-case, and a mighty52 shabby one at that. Still, even an empty case had a faint horological flavour.
“Well,” said Mr. Beeby, turning it over disparagingly53, “it’s a bit of a wreck54. Shockingly knocked about, and some fool has varnished55 it with a brush. But it has been a fine case in its time, and it can be again. What do you want us to do with it? Make it as good as new, I suppose.”
“Better,” replied Mr. Abraham with a persuasive57 smile.
“Now, you mustn’t be unreasonable,” said Beeby. “That case was made by a first-class tradesman and no one could make it any better. No hurry for it, I suppose? May as well let us take our time over it.”
To this Mr. Abraham agreed, being a workman himself; and, after some brief negotiations58 as to the cost of the repairs, he took his departure. When he had gone, Mr. Beeby picked up the “wreck”, and, exhibiting it to Uncle Sam, remarked:
“It wants a lot of doing to it, but it will pay for a bit of careful work. Care to take it on when you’ve finished that table?”
Uncle Sam took it on readily, having rather a liking59 for renovations of good old work; and when he had clamped up some glued joints60 on his table, fell to work forthwith on the case, dismembering it, as a preliminary measure, with a thoroughness that rather horrified61 me, until it seemed to be reduced to little more than a collection of fragments. But I realized the necessity for the dismemberment when I saw him making the repairs and restorations on the separated parts, unhampered by their connections with the others.
I followed his proceedings62 from day to day with deep interest as the work grew; first, when all the old varnish56 had been cleaned off, the cutting away of damaged parts, then the artful insetting of new pieces and their treatment with stain until from staring patches they became indistinguishable from the old. So it went on, the battered63 old parts growing newer and smarter every day with no visible trace of the repairs, and, at last, when the fresh polish was hard, the separated parts were put together and the transformation64 was complete. The shabby old wreck had been changed into a brand-new case.
“Well, Sam,” said Mr. Beeby, looking at it critically as its restorer stood it on the newly finished table, “you’ve made a job of that. It’s good now for another hundred years. Ought to satisfy Abraham. Nat might as well run round presently and let him know that it’s finished.”
“Why shouldn’t he take it with him?” Uncle Sam suggested.
Mr. Beeby considered the suggestion and eventually, having admonished65 me to carry the case carefully, adopted it. Accordingly, the case was wrapped in one or two clean dusters and tied up with string, leaving the gilt66 top handle exposed for convenience of carrying, and I went forth all agog67 to see how Mr. Abraham would be impressed by Uncle Sam’s wizardry.
I found that gentleman seated at his counter writing on a card, and, as the inscription68 was in large Roman capitals, my eye caught at a glance the words, “Smart youth wanted.”. He rounded off the final D and then looked up at me and enquired69: “You are Mr. Beeby’s apprentice, aren’t you? Is that the case?”
“This is the case, sir,” I replied, “but I am not an apprentice. I am the workshop boy.”
“Oh! “said he, “I thought you were an apprentice, as you were working at the bench. Well, let’s see what sort of a job they’ve made of the case. Bring it in here.”
He preceded me into a small room at the back of the shop which was evidently the place where he worked, and here, having cleared a space on a side bench, he took the case from me and untied70 the string. When the removal of the dusters revealed the case in all its magnificence, he regarded it with a chuckle71 of satisfaction.
“It looks a bit different from what it did when you saw it last, sir,” I ventured to remark.
He seemed a little surprised, for he gave me a quick glance before replying.
“You’re right, my boy; I wouldn’t have believed it possible. But there, every man to his trade, and Mr. Beeby is a master of his.”
“It was my uncle, Mr. Gollidge, that did the repairs, sir,” I informed him, bearing in mind Mr. Beeby’s rule that the doer of a good job should have the credit. Again Mr. Abraham looked at me, curiously72, as he rejoined: “Then your uncle is a proper tradesman and I take my hat off to him.”
I thanked him for the compliment, the latter part of which was evidently symbolical73, as he was bareheaded, and then asked: “Is that the clock that belongs to the case, sir?” and I pointed74 to a bracket clock with a handsome brass75, silver-circled dial which stood on a shelf, supported by a movement-holder76.
“You’re quite right,” he replied. “That’s the clock; all clean and bright and ready for fixing. Would you like to see it in its case? Because, if so, you may as well help me to put it in.”
I agreed, joyfully77, and as he released the movement from the holder, I unlocked and opened the back door of the case and “stood by” for further instructions, watching intently every stage of the procedure. There was not much for me to do beyond steadying the case and fetching the screws and the screwdriver78; but I was learning how a bracket clock was fixed79 into its case, and when, at last, the job was finished and the fine old clock stood complete in all its beauty and dignity, I had the feeling of:, at least, having been a collaborator80 in the achievement.
It had been a great experience. But all the time, a strong under-current of thought had been running at the back of my mind. “Smart youth wanted.” Was I a smart youth? Honest self-inspection compelled me to admit that I was not. But perhaps the smartness was only a rhetorical flourish, and in any case, it doesn’t do to be too modest. Eventually I plucked up courage to ask: “Were you wanting a boy, sir?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Do you know of one who wants a job?”
“I was wondering, sir, if I should be suitable.”
“You!” he exclaimed. “But you’ve got a place. Aren’t you satisfied with it?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I’m quite satisfied. Mr. Beeby is a very good master. But I’ve always wanted to get into the clock trade.”
He looked down at me with a broad smile. “My good boy,” said he, “cleaning a clockmaker’s window and sweeping a clockmaker’s floor won’t get you very far in the clock trade.”
It sounded discouraging, but I was not put off. Experience had taught me that there are boys and boys. As Dr. Pope’s bottle boy I had learned nothing and gained nothing but the weekly wage. As Mr. Beeby’s workshop boy I had learned the rudiments81 of cabinet-making and was learning more every day.
“It would be a start, sir, and I think I could make myself useful,” I protested.
“I daresay you could,” said he (he had seen me working at the bench), “and I would be willing to have you. But what about Mr. Beeby? If you suit him, it wouldn’t be right for me to take you away from him.”
“Of course, I should have to stay with him until he had got another boy.”
“And there is your uncle. Do you think he would let you make the change?”
“I don’t think he would stand in my way, sir. But I’ll ask him.”
“Very well,” said he. “You put it to him, and I’ll have a few words with Mr. Beeby when I call to settle up.”
“And you won’t put that card in the window, sir,” I urged.
He smiled at my eagerness but was not displeased82; indeed, it was evident to me that he was well impressed and very willing to have me.
“No,” he agreed, “I’ll put that aside for the present.”
Much relieved, I thanked him and took my leave; and as I wended homeward to dinner I prepared myself a little nervously83, for the coming conference.
But it went off more easily than I had expected. Uncle Sam, indeed, was strongly opposed to the change (“just as the boy had got his foot in and was beginning to learn the trade “), and he was disposed to enlarge on the subject of rolling stones. But Aunt Judy was more understanding.
“I don’t know, Sam,” said she, “but what the boy’s right. His heart is set on clocks, and he’ll be happier working among things that he likes than going on with the cabinet-making. But I’m afraid Mr. Beeby won’t be pleased.”
That was what I was afraid of. But here again my fears proved to be unfounded. On the principle of grasping the nettle84, I attacked him as soon as we returned to the workshop after dinner; and certainly, as he listened to my proposal with his great eyebrows85 lowered in a frown of surprise, he seemed rather alarming, and I began to “look out for squalls”. But when I had finished my explanations, he addressed me so kindly86 and in such a fatherly manner that I was quite taken aback and almost regretful that I had thought of the change.
“Well, my son,” said he, “I shall be sorry to lose you. If you had stayed with me I would have given you your indentures87 free, because you have got the makings of a good workman. But if the clock trade is your fancy and you have a chance to get into it, you are wise to take that chance. A tradesman’s heart ought to be in his trade. You go to Mr. Abraham and I’ll give you a good character. And you needn’t wait for me. Take the job at once and get a start, but look us up now and again and tell us how you are getting on.”
I wanted to thank Mr. Beeby, but was too overcome to say much. However, he understood. And now — such is human perversity88 — I suddenly discovered an unsuspected charm in the workshop and an unwillingness89 to tear myself away from it; and when “knocking — off time” came and I stowed my little collection of tools in the rush basket to carry away, my eyes filled and I said my last “good night” in an absurd, tremulous squeak90.
Nevertheless, I took Mr. Abraham’s shop in my homeward route and found it still open; a fact which I noted91 with slight misgivings92 as suggestive of rather long hours. As I entered, my prospective93 employer rose from the little desk at the end of the counter and confronted me with a look of enquiry; whereupon I informed him briefly94 of the recent developments and explained that I was now a free boy.
“Very well,” said he; “then I suppose you want the job. It’s five shillings a week and your tea — unless,” he added as an afterthought, “you’d rather run round and have it at home. Will that suit you? Because, if it will, you can come tomorrow morning at half-past eight and I will show you how to take down the shutters95.”
Thus, informally, were my feet set upon the road which I was to tread all the days of my life; a road which was to lead me, through many a stormy passage, to the promised land which is now my secure abiding96 place.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
astronomers
|
|
| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
sidereal
|
|
| adj.恒星的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
divers
|
|
| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ambles
|
|
| v.（马）缓行( amble的第三人称单数 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
clergy
|
|
| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
entailed
|
|
| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
earnings
|
|
| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
schooling
|
|
| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
skimp
|
|
| v.节省花费，吝啬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
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： |
|
|
|
|
15
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
wrangler
|
|
| n.口角者，争论者；牧马者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
prospectus
|
|
| n.计划书；说明书；慕股书 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
contentious
|
|
| adj.好辩的，善争吵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
kindliness
|
|
| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
beetle
|
|
| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
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： |
|
|
|
|
23
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
coppers
|
|
| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
thriftily
|
|
| 节俭地； 繁茂地； 繁荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
miraculously
|
|
| ad.奇迹般地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
apprentice
|
|
| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
craftsmen
|
|
| n. 技工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
chisel
|
|
| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
improvised
|
|
| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
gauge
|
|
| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
proficient
|
|
| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
skilful
|
|
| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
leisureliness
|
|
| n.悠然，从容 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
expounded
|
|
| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
precept
|
|
| n.戒律；格言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
contentedly
|
|
| adv.心满意足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
lurked
|
|
| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
apprenticeship
|
|
| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
premium
|
|
| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
inquisitive
|
|
| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
disparagingly
|
|
| adv.以贬抑的口吻，以轻视的态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
varnished
|
|
| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
varnish
|
|
| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
persuasive
|
|
| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
negotiations
|
|
| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
horrified
|
|
| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
battered
|
|
| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
transformation
|
|
| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
admonished
|
|
| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
gilt
|
|
| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
agog
|
|
| adj.兴奋的，有强烈兴趣的； adv.渴望地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
inscription
|
|
| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
untied
|
|
| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
chuckle
|
|
| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
symbolical
|
|
| a.象征性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
holder
|
|
| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
joyfully
|
|
| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
screwdriver
|
|
| n.螺丝起子；伏特加橙汁鸡尾酒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
collaborator
|
|
| n.合作者，协作者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
rudiments
|
|
| n.基础知识，入门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
displeased
|
|
| a.不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
nettle
|
|
| n.荨麻；v.烦忧，激恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
indentures
|
|
| vt.以契约束缚（indenture的第三人称单数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
perversity
|
|
| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
unwillingness
|
|
| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
squeak
|
|
| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
misgivings
|
|
| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
prospective
|
|
| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
abiding
|
|
| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |