The other train, which was bound from Philadelphia, appeared so calmly and naturally that at first no one suspected that a race was on. It came banging up slowly, its big black snout swaying and bucking3 with a clumsy movement as it came on, its shining pistons5 swinging free and loose, and with short intermittent6 blasts of smoke from its squat7 funnel8. It came up so slowly and naturally, past their windows, that at first it was hard to understand at what terrific speed the train was running, until one looked out of the windows on the other side and saw the flat, formless and uncharactered earth of New Jersey whipping by like pickets10 on a fence.
The other train came slowly on with that huge banging movement of the terrific locomotive, eating its way up past the windows, until the engine cab was level with Eugene and he could look across two or three scant11 feet of space and see the engineer. He was a young man cleanly jacketed in striped blue and wearing goggles12. He had a ruddy colour and his strong pleasant face, which bore on it the character of courage, dignity, and the immense and expert knowledge these men have, was set in a good-natured and determined13 grin, as with one gloved hand held steady on the throttle14 he leaned upon his sill, with every energy and perception in him fixed15 with a focal concentration on the rails. Behind him his fireman, balanced on the swaying floor, his face black and grinning, his eyes goggled16 like a demon17, and lit by the savage18 flare19 of his terrific furnace, was shovelling20 coal with all his might. Meanwhile, the train came on, came on, eating its way past, foot by foot, until the engine cab had disappeared from sight and the first coaches of the train drew by.
And now a wonderful thing occurred. As the heavy rust21-red coaches of the other train came up and began to pass them, the passengers of both trains suddenly became aware that a race between the trains was taking place. A tremendous excitement surged up in them, working its instant magic upon all these travellers, with their grey hats, their grey, worn city faces, and their dull tired eyes, which just the moment before had been fastened wearily on the pages of a newspaper, as if, having been hurled22 along this way beneath the lonely skies so many times, the desolate23 face of the earth had long since grown too familiar to them, and they never looked out of windows any more.
But now the faces that had been so grey and dead were flushed with colour, the dull and lustreless24 eyes had begun to burn with joy and interest. The passengers of both trains crowded to the windows, grinning like children for delight and jubilation25.
Eugene’s train, which for a space had been holding its rival even, now began to fall behind. The other train began to slide past the windows with increasing speed, and when this happened the joy and triumph of its passengers were almost unbelievable. Meanwhile their own faces had turned black and bitter with defeat. They cursed, they muttered, they scowled26 malevolently27, they turned away with an appearance of indifference28, as if they had no further interest in the thing, only to come back again with a fascinated and bitter look as their accursed windows slid by them with the inevitability29 of death and destiny.
Throughout, the crews of the two trains had shown as keen and passionate30 an interest, as intense a rivalry31, as had the passengers. The guards and porters were clustered at the windows or against the door in the car-ends, and they grinned and jeered32 just as the rest of them had done; but their interest was more professional, their knowledge more intimate and exact. The guard on the train would say to the porter —“Whose train is that? Did you see John McIntyre aboard?” And the negro would answer positively33, “No, sah! Dat ain’t Cap’n McIntyre. Ole man Rigsby’s got her. Dere he is now!” he cried, as another coach moved past and the grizzled and grinning face of an old guard came in sight.
Then the guard would go away, shaking his head, and the negro would mutter and chuckle34 to himself by turns. He was a fat enormous darkey, with an ink-black skin, a huge broad bottom, teeth of solid grinning white, and with a big fatty growth on the back of his thick neck. He shook like jelly when he laughed. Eugene had known him for years, because he came from his native town, and the Pullman car in which he rode, which was known as K 19, was the car that always made the journey of 700 miles between his home town and the city. Now the negro sprawled35 upon the green upholstery of the end seat in the Pullman and grinned and muttered at his fellows in the other train.
“All right, boy. All right, you ole slew-footed niggah!” he would growl36 at a grinning darkey in the other train. “Uh! Uh!” he would grunt37 ironically. “Don’t you think you’s somp’n, dough38! You’s pullin’ dat train yo’self, you is!” he would laugh sarcastically39, and then sullenly40 and impatiently conclude, “Go on, boy! Go on! I sees you! I don’t care how soon I loses you! Go on, niggah! Go on! Git dat ugly ole livah-lipped face o’ yo’n out o’ my way!”
And that grinning and derisive41 face would also vanish and be gone, until the whole train had passed them, pulled ahead of them, and vanished from their sight. And their porter sat there staring out of the window, chuckling42 and shaking his head from time to time, as he said to himself, with a tone of reproof43 and disbelief:
“Dey ain’t got no right to do dat! Dey ain’t go no right to run right by us like we wasn’t here!” he chuckled44. “Dey ain’t nothin’ but a little ole Philadelphia local! Dey’re not supposed to make de time we is! We’s de Limited! We got de outside rail!” he bragged46, but immediately, shaking his head, he said: “But Lawd, Lawd! Dat didn’t help us none today. Dey’ve gone right on by us! We’ll never ketch dem now!” he said mournfully, and it seemed that he was right.
Eugene’s train was running in free light and open country now, and the passengers, resigned finally to defeat, had settled back into their former dozing47 apathy48. But suddenly the train seemed to start and leap below them with a living energy, its speed increased visibly, the earth began to rush by with an ever-faster stroke, the passengers looked up and at one another with a question in their eyes and an awakened49 interest.
And now their fortune was reversed, the train was running through the country at terrific speed, and in a moment more they began to come up on the rival train again. And now, just as the other train had slid by them, they began to walk by its windows with the calm imperious stride of their awakened and irresistible51 power. But where, before, the passengers of both trains had mocked and jeered at one another, they now smiled quietly and good-naturedly, with a friendly, almost affectionate, interest. For it seemed that they — the people in the other train — now felt that their train had done its best and made a manful showing against its mighty52 and distinguished53 competitor, and that they were now cheerfully resigned to let the Limited have its way.
And now their train walked up past the windows of the dining-car of the other: they could see the smiling white-jacketed waiters, the tables covered with their snowy-white linen54 and gleaming silver, and the people eating, smiling and looking toward them in a friendly manner as they ate. And then they were abreast55 the heavy parlour cars: a lovely girl, blonde-haired, with a red silk dress and slender shapely legs crossed carelessly, holding an opened magazine face downward in one hand and with the slender tapering56 fingers of the other curved inward towards her belly57 where they fumbled58 with a charm or locket hanging from a chain, was looking at them for a moment with a tender and good-natured smile. And opposite her, with his chair turned towards her, an old man, dressed elegantly in a thin, finely-woven and expensive-looking suit of grey, and with a meagre, weary, and distinguished face that had brown spots upon it, was sitting with his thin phthisical shanks crossed, and for a moment Eugene could see his lean hands, palsied, stiff, and folded on his lap, and the brown spots on them, and he could see a corded, brittle-looking vein59 upon the back of one old hand.
And outside there was the raw and desolate-looking country, there were the great steel coaches, the terrific locomotives, the shining rails, the sweep of the tracks, the vast indifferent dinginess60 and rust of colours, the powerful mechanical expertness, and the huge indifference to suave61 finish. And inside there were the opulent green and luxury of the Pullman cars, the soft glow of the lights, and people fixed there for an instant in incomparably rich and vivid little pictures of their life and destiny, as they were all hurled onward62, a thousand atoms, to their journey’s end somewhere upon the mighty continent, across the immense and lonely visage of the everlasting63 earth.
And they looked at one another for a moment, they passed and vanished and were gone for ever, yet it seemed to him that he had known these people, that he knew them better than the people in his own train, and that, having met them for an instant under immense and timeless skies, as they were hurled across the continent to a thousand destinations, they had met, passed, vanished, yet would remember this for ever. And he thought the people in the two trains felt this, also: slowly they passed each other now, and their mouths smiled and their eyes grew friendly, but he thought there was some sorrow and regret in what they felt. For, having lived together as strangers in the immense and swarming65 city, they now had met upon the everlasting earth, hurled past each other for a moment between two points in time upon the shining rails, never to meet, to speak, to know each other any more, and the briefness of their days, the destiny of man, was in that instant greeting and farewell.
Therefore, in this way, they passed and vanished, the coaches slipped away from them until again they came up level with the cab of the other locomotive. And now the young engineer no longer sat in his high window with a determined grin, and with his hard blue eyes fixed on the rail. Rather, he stood now in the door, his engine banging away deliberately66, slowed down, bucking and rocking loosely as they passed. His attitude was that of a man who has just given up a race. He had turned to shout something at his fireman who stood there balanced, arms akimbo, black and grinning, as they moved up by them. The engineer had one gloved hand thrust out against the cab to support him, he held the other on his hip9 and he was grinning broadly at them, with solid teeth edged with one molar of bright gold — a fine, free, generous, and good-humoured smile, which said more plainly than any words could do: “Well, it’s over, now! You fellows win! But you’ll have to admit we gave you a run for your money while it lasted!”
Then they drew away and lost the train for ever. And presently their own train came in to Newark, where it stopped. And suddenly, as Eugene was looking at some negroes working there with picks and shovels67 on the track beside the train, one looked up and spoke68 quietly to the fat porter, without surprise or any greeting, as casually69 and naturally as a man could speak to someone who has been in the same room with him for hours.
“When you comin’ back dis way, boy?” he said.
“I’ll be comin’ back again on Tuesday,” said the porter.
“Did you see dat ole long gal70 yet? Did you tell huh what I said?”
“Not yet,” the porter said, “but I’ll be seein’ huh fo’ long! I’ll tell yo’ what she says.”
“I’ll be lookin’ fo’ you,” said the other negro.
“Don’t fo’git now,” said the fat black porter, chuckling; and the train started, the man calmly returned to work again; and this was all. What that astounding71 meeting of two black atoms underneath72 the skies, that casual incredible conversation meant, he never knew; but he did not forget it.
And the whole memory of this journey, of this race between the trains, of the negroes, of the passengers who came to life like magic, crowding and laughing at the windows, and particularly of the girl and of the vein upon the old man’s hand, was fixed in Eugene’s brain for ever. And like everything he did or saw that year, like every journey that he made, it became a part of his whole memory of the city.
And the city would always be the same when he came back. He would rush through the immense and glorious stations, murmurous73 with their million destinies and the everlasting sound of time, that was caught up for ever in their roof — he would rush out into the street, and instantly it would be the same as it had always been, and yet for ever strange and new.
He felt as if by being gone from it an instant he had missed something priceless and irrecoverable. He felt instantly that nothing had changed a bit, and yet it was changing furiously, unbelievably, every second before his eyes. It seemed stranger than a dream, and more familiar than his mother’s face. He could not believe in it — and he could not believe in anything else on earth. He hated it, he loved it, he was instantly engulfed74 and overwhelmed by it.
He brought to it the whole packed glory of the earth — the splendour, power, and beauty of the nation. He brought back to it a tremendous memory of space, and power, and of exultant75 distances; a vision of trains that smashed and pounded at the rails, a memory of people hurled past the window of his vision in another train, of people eating sumptuously76 from gleaming silver in the dining cars, of cities waking in the first light of the morning, and of a thousand little sleeping towns built across the land, lonely and small and silent in the night, huddled77 below the desolation of immense and cruel skies.
He brought to it a memory of the loaded box-cars slatting past at fifty miles an hour, of swift breaks like openings in a wall when coal cars came between, and the sudden feeling of release and freedom when the last caboose whipped past. He remembered the dull rusty78 red, like dried blood, of the freight cars, the lettering on them, and their huge gaping79 emptiness and joy as they curved in among raw piny land upon a rusty track, waiting for great destinies in the old red light of evening upon the lonely, savage, and indifferent earth; and he remembered the cindery80 look of road-beds and the raw and barren spaces in the land that ended nowhere; the red clay of railway cuts, and the small hard lights of semaphores — green, red, and yellow — as in the heart of the enormous dark they shone, for great trains smashing at the rails, their small and passionate assurances.
He brought to it the heart, the eye, the vision of the everlasting stranger, who had walked its stones, and breathed its air, and, as a stranger, looked into its million dark and driven faces, and who could never make the city’s life his own.
And finally he brought to it the million memories of his fathers who were great men and knew the wilderness81, but who had never lived in cities: three hundred of his blood and bone, who sowed their blood and sperm82 across the continent, walked beneath its broad and lonely lights, were frozen by its bitter cold, burned by the heat of its fierce suns, withered83, gnarled, and broken by its savage weathers, and who fought like lions with its gigantic strength, its wildness, its limitless savagery84 and beauty, until with one stroke of its paw it broke their backs and killed them.
He brought to it the memory and inheritance of all these men and women who had worked, fought, drunk, loved, whored, striven, lived and died, letting their blood soak down like silence in the earth again, letting their flesh rot quietly away into the stern, the beautiful, the limitless substance of the everlasting earth from which they came, from which they were compacted, on which they worked and wrought85 and moved, and in whose immense and lonely breast their bones were buried and now lay, pointing eighty ways across the continent.
Above the pounding of the mighty wheels their voices had seemed to well out of the everlasting earth, giving to him, the son whom they had never seen, the dark inheritance of the earth and the centuries, which was his, even as his blood and bone were his, but which he could not fathom86. “Whoever builds a bridge across this earth,” they cried, “whoever lays a rail across this mouth, whoever stirs the dust where these bones lie, let him go dig them up, and say his Hamlet to the engineers. Son, son,” their voices said, “is the earth richer where our own earth lay? Must you untwist the vine-root from the buried heart? Have you unrooted mandrake from our brains? Or the rich flowers, the big rich flowers, the strange unknown flowers?
“You must admit the grass is thicker here. Hair grew like April on our buried flesh. These men were full of juice, you’ll grow good corn here, golden wheat. The men are dead, you say? They may be dead, but you’ll grow trees here; you’ll grow an oak, but we were richer than an oak: you’ll grow a plum tree here that’s bigger than an oak, it will be all filled with plums as big as little apples.
“We were great men and mean men hated us,” they said. “We were all men who cried out when we were hurt, wept when we were sad, drank, ate, were strong, weak, full of fear, were loud and full of clamour, yet grew quiet when dark came. Fools laughed at us and witlings sneered87 at us: how could they know our brains were subtler than a snake’s? Because they were more small, were they more delicate? Did their pale sapless flesh sense things too fine for our imagining? How can you think it, child? Our hearts were wrought more strangely than a cat’s, full of deep twistings, woven sinews, flushing with dull and brilliant fires; and our marvellous nerves, flame-tipped, crossed wires too intricate for their fathoming88.
“What could they see,” the voices rose above the sound of the wheels with their triumphant89 boast, “what could they know of men like us, whose fathers hewed90 the stone above their graves, and now lie under mountains, plains, and forests, hills of granite91, drowned by a flooding river, killed by the stroke of the everlasting earth? Now only look where these men have been buried: they’ve heaved their graves up in great laughing lights of flowers — do you see other flowers so rich on other graves?
“Who sows the barren earth?” their voices cried. “We sowed the wilderness with blood and sperm. Three hundred of your blood and bone are recompacted with the native earth: we gave a tongue to solitude92, a pulse to the desert, the barren earth received us and gave back our agony: we made the earth cry out. One lies in Oregon, and one, by a broken wheel and horse’s skull93, still grips a gunstock on the Western trail. Another one has helped to make Virginia richer. One died at Chancellorsville in union blue, and one at Shiloh walled with Yankee dead. Another was ripped open in a bar-room brawl94 and walked three blocks to find a doctor, holding his entrails thoughtfully in his hands.
“One died in Pennsylvania reaching for a fork: her reach was greater than her grasp; she fell, breaking her hip, cut off from red rare beef and roasting-ears at ninety-six. Another whored and preached his way from Hatteras to the Golden Gate: he preached milk and honey for the kidneys, sassafras for jaundice, sulphur for uric acid, slippery-ellum for decaying gums, spinach95 for the goitre, rhubarb for gnarled joints96 and all the twistings of rheumatism97, and pure spring water mixed with vinegar for that great ailment98 dear to Venus, that makes the world and Frenchmen kin4. He preached the brotherhood99 and love of man, the coming of Christ and Armageddon by the end of 1886, and he founded the Sons of Abel, the Daughters of Ruth, the Children of The Pentateuch, as well as twenty other sects100; and finally he died at eight-four, a son of the Lord, a prophet, and a saint.
“Two hundred more are buried in the hills of home: these men got land, fenced it, owned it, tilled it; they traded in wood, stone, cotton, corn, tobacco; they built houses, roads, grew trees and orchards101. Wherever these men went, they got land and worked it, built upon it, farmed it, sold it, added to it. These men were hill-born and hill-haunted: all knew the mountains, but few knew the sea.
“So there we are, child, lacking our thousand years and ruined walls, perhaps, but with a glory of our own, laid out across three thousand miles of earth. There have been bird-calls for our flesh within the wilderness. So call, please, call! Call the robin102 red-breast and the wren103, who in dark woods discover the friendless bodies of unburied men!
“Immortal104 land, cruel and immense as God,” they cried, “we shall go wandering on your breast for ever! Wherever great wheels carry us is home — home for our hunger, home for all things except the heart’s small fence and dwelling-place of love.
“Who sows the barren earth?” they said. “Who needs the land? You’ll make great engines yet, and taller towers. And what’s a trough of bone against a tower? You need the earth? Whoever needs the earth may have the earth. Our dust, wrought in this land, stirred by its million sounds, will stir and tremble to the passing wheel. Whoever needs the earth may use the earth. Go dig us up and there begin your bridge. But whoever builds a bridge across this earth, whoever lays a rail across this mouth, whoever needs the trench105 where these bones lie, let him go dig them up and say his Hamlet to the engineers.”
So had their hundred voices welled up from the earth and called to him, their son and brother, above the pounding of the mighty wheels that roared above them. And the memory of their words, their triumphant tongue of deathless silence, and the full weight of the inheritance they had given him, he brought back again out of the earth into the swarming canyons106 and the million tongues of the unceasing, the fabulous107, the million-footed city.
And all that he had seen, all that he remembered of this earth he brought to the city, and it seemed to be the city’s complement108 — to feed it, to sustain it, to belong to it. And the image of the city, written in his heart, was so unbelievable that it seemed to be a fiction, a fable109, some huge dream of his own dreaming, so unbelievable that he did not think that he should find it when he returned; yet it was just the same as he had remembered it. He found it, the instant he came out of the station: the tidal swarm64 of faces, the brutal110 stupefaction of the street, the immense and arrogant111 blaze and sweep of the great buildings.
It was fabulous and incredible, but there it was. He saw again the million faces — the faces dark, dingy112, driven, harried113, and corrupt114, the faces stamped with all the familiar markings of suspicion and mistrust, cunning, contriving115, and a hard and stupid cynicism. There were the faces, thin and febrile, of the taxi-drivers, the faces cunning, sly, and furtive116, the hard twisted mouths and rasping voices, the eyes glittering and toxic117 with unnatural118 fires. And there were the faces, cruel, arrogant and knowing of the beak-nosed Jews, the brutal heavy figures of the Irish cops, and their red beefy faces, filled with the stupid, swift, and choleric119 menaces of privilege and power, shining forth120 terribly with an almost perverse121 and sanguinary vitality122 and strength among the swarming tides of the grey-faced people. They were all there as he remembered them — a race mongrel, dark, and feverish123, swarming along for ever on the pavements, moving in tune50 to that vast central energy, filled with the city’s life, as with a general and dynamic fluid.
And, incredibly, incredibly! these common, weary, driven, brutal faces, these faces he had seen a million times, even the sterile124 scrabble of harsh words they uttered, now seemed to be touched by this magic of now and forever, this strange and legendary125 quality that the city had, and to belong themselves to something fabulous and enchanted126. The people, common, dull, cruel, and familiar-looking as they were, seemed to be a part, to comprise, to be fixed in something classic, and eternal, in the everlasting variousness and fixity of time, in all the fabulous reality of the city’s life: they formed it, they were part of it, and they could have belonged to nothing else on earth.
And as he saw them, as he heard them, as he listened to their words again, as they streamed past, their stony127 gravel128 of harsh oaths and rasping cries, the huge single anathema129 of their bitter and strident tongues dedicated130 so completely, so constantly, to the baseness, folly131, or treachery of their fellows that it seemed that speech had been given to them by some demon of everlasting hatred132 only in order that they might express the infamy133 and vileness134 of men, or the falseness of women — as he listened to this huge and single tongue of hatred, evil, and of folly, it seemed incredible that they could breathe the shining air without weariness, agony, and labour — that they could live, breathe, move at all among the huge encrusted taint135, the poisonous congestion136 of their lives.
And yet live, breathe, and move they did with a savage and indubitable violence, an unfathomed energy. Hard-mouthed, hard-eyed, and strident-tongued, with their million hard grey faces, they streamed past upon the streets for ever, like a single animal, with the sinuous137 and baleful convolutions of an enormous reptile138. And the magical and shining air — the strange, subtle and enchanted weather, was above them, and the buried men were strewn through the earth on which they trod, and a bracelet139 of great tides was flashing round them, and the enfabled rock on which they swarmed140 swung eastward141 in the marches of the sun into eternity142, and was masted like a ship with its terrific towers, and was flung with a lion’s port between its tides into the very maw of the infinite, all-taking ocean. And exultancy143 and joy rose with a cry of triumph in his throat, because he found it wonderful.
Their voices seemed to form one general City–Voice, one strident snarl144, one twisted mouth of outrage145 and of slander146 bared for ever to the imperturbable147 and immortal skies of time, one jeering148 tongue and rumour149 of man’s baseness, fixed on the visage of the earth, and turned incredibly, and with an evil fortitude150, toward depthless and indifferent space against the calm and silence of eternity.
Filled with pugnacious151 recollection that Voice said, “‘Dis guy,’ I says, ‘dis friend of yoehs,’” it said, “‘dis bastad who owes me fawty bucks152 — dat yuh introduced me to — when’s he goin’ t’ giv’it to me?’ I says.” And derisive, scornful, knowing, it would snarl: “W’ICH guy? W’ICH guy do yuh mean? Duh guy dat used to come in Louie’s place?” And bullying153 and harsh it would reply: “YUH don’t know? Watcha mean yuh don’t know!” . . . Defiant154, “WHO don’t know? . . . WHO says so? . . . WHO told yuh so?” And jeering, “Oh DAT guy! . . . Is DAT duh guy yuh mean? An’ wat t’ hell do I care wat he t’inks, f’r Chris’ sake! . . . To hell wit’ him!” it said.
Recounting past triumphs with an epic155 brag45, it said: “‘You’re comin’ out of dere!’ I said. ‘Wat do you t’ink of dat?’ . . . ‘Oh, yeah,’ he says, ‘who’s goin’ t’ make me?’ So I says, ‘You hoid me — yeah! . . . You’re goin’ to take dat little tin crate156 of yoehs right out of deh! You’ll take yoeh chance right on duh line wit’ all duh rest of us!’ . . . ‘Oh, yeah,’ he says. . . . ‘You hoid me, misteh’— an’ he went!” In tones of ladylike refinement157, it recounted romance into ravished ears as follows: “‘Lissen,’ I says, ‘as far as my boss is consoined it’s bizness only. . . . An’ as far as Mr. Ball is consoined it’s my own bizness’ (hah! hah! hah! Y’know that’s wat I tol’ him. . . . Jeez: it handed him a laugh, y’know!)—‘An afteh five o’clock,’ I says, ‘I’m my own boss. . . . At duh same time,’ I says, ‘deh’s duh psychological side to be considehed.’”
And with the sweet accent of maternal158 tribulation159, it admitted, “Sure! I hit her! I did! Oh, I hit her very hahd! Jeez! It was an awful crack I gave her, honestleh! My hand was boinin’ f’r a half-oueh aftehwads! . . . I just blow up, y’know! . . . Dat’s my on’y reason f’r dat! I jus’ blow up! Dis fellah’s in duh bathroom callin’ f’r his eggs, duh baby’s yellin’ f’r his bottle, an’ I jus’ blow up! . . . Dat’s my on’y reason f’r DAT! Dat’s duh on’y reason dat I hit her, see! I’m afraid she’ll hoit duh baby, see? She bends its fingehs back. So I says, ‘F’r God’s sake, please, don’t do dat! . . . I gotta headache’ . . . an’ then, I jus’ blow up! Sure! I hit her hahd! . . . Duh trouble is I can’t stop wit’ one slap, see! . . . Jeez! I hit her! My hand was boining f’r a half-oueh aftehwads!”
Hot with its sense of outraged160 decency161, it said, “I went upstairs an’ pounded on dat doeh! . . . ‘Come out of dere, you s. of a b.,’ I says — Sure, I’m tellin’ yuh! Dat’s what I said to her, y’know! . . . ‘Come out of dere,’ I says, ‘before I t’row you out,’” and regretfully it added, “Sure! I hate to do dese t’ings — it makes me feel bad lateh — but I won’t have dem in my place. Dat’s duh one t’ing I refuse t’do,” it said. And with a passionate emotion, it asserted, “Sure! . . . Dat’s what I’m tellin’ yuh! . . . Yuh know how dat was, don’t cha? Duh foist162 guy — her husban’— was passin’ out duh sugah an’ duh otheh guy — duh boy-friend — was layin’ her. Can yuh ima-a-gine it?” it said.
Amazed, in tones of stupefaction, it would say “No kiddin’! NO!” And with solemn reprehension163 it would add, “Oh, yuh know I think that’s te-e-ri-bul! I think that’s aw-w-ful!”— the voice of unbelieving horror would reply.
Finally, friendly and familiar, the great Voice of the city said, “Well, so long, Eddy164. I’m goin’ t’ ketch some sleep,” it said, and answered, “Well, so long, Joe, I’ll be seem’ yuh.” “So long, Grace,” it added with an accent of soft tenderness and love, and the huge Voice of the city murmured, “O.K. kid! Eight o’clock — no kiddin’— I’ll be deh!”
Such were some of the million tongues of that huge single Voice, as he had heard them speak a thousand times, and as now instantly, incredibly, as soon as he came back to them, they spoke again.
And as he listened, as he heard them, their speech could not have been more strange to him had they been people from the planet Mars. He stared gape-mouthed, he listened, he saw the whole thing blazing in his face again to the tone and movement of its own central, unique, and incomparable energy. It was so real that it was magical, so real that all that men had always known was discovered to them instantly, so real he felt as if he had known it for ever, yet must be dreaming as he looked at it; therefore he looked at it and his spirit cried:
“Incredible! Oh, incredible! It moves, it pulses like a single living thing! It lives, it lives, with all its million faces”— and this is the way he always knew it was.
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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bucking
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| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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5
pistons
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| 活塞( piston的名词复数 ) | |
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6
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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7
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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8
funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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9
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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10
pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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11
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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12
goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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13
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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14
throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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15
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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16
goggled
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| adj.戴护目镜的v.睁大眼睛瞪视， （惊讶的）转动眼珠( goggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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18
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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19
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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20
shovelling
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| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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21
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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22
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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23
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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24
lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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25
jubilation
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| n.欢庆，喜悦 | |
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26
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
malevolently
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28
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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29
inevitability
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| n.必然性 | |
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30
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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31
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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32
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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34
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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35
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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36
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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37
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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38
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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39
sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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40
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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41
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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42
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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43
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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44
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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46
bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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48
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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49
awakened
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|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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50
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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51
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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52
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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53
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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54
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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55
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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56
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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57
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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58
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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59
vein
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|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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60
dinginess
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| n.暗淡，肮脏 | |
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61
suave
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|
| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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62
onward
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|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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63
everlasting
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|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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64
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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65
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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66
deliberately
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|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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67
shovels
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|
| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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68
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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69
casually
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|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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70
gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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71
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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72
underneath
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|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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73
murmurous
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| adj.低声的 | |
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74
engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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76
sumptuously
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| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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77
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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78
rusty
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|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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79
gaping
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|
| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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80
cindery
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|
| adj.灰烬的，煤渣的 | |
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81
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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82
sperm
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| n.精子，精液 | |
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83
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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84
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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85
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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86
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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87
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
fathoming
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| 测量 | |
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89
triumphant
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|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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90
hewed
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| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的过去式和过去分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
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91
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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92
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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93
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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94
brawl
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| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
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95
spinach
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| n.菠菜 | |
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96
joints
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| 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） | |
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97
rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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98
ailment
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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99
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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100
sects
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| n.宗派，教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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101
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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102
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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103
wren
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| n.鹪鹩；英国皇家海军女子服务队成员 | |
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104
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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105
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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106
canyons
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| n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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107
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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108
complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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109
fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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110
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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111
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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112
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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113
harried
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| v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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114
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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115
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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116
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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117
toxic
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| adj.有毒的，因中毒引起的 | |
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118
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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119
choleric
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| adj.易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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120
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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121
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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122
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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123
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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124
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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125
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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126
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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127
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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128
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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129
anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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130
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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131
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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133
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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vileness
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| n.讨厌，卑劣 | |
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135
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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137
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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138
reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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139
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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140
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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141
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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142
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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143
exultancy
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| n.大喜，狂喜 | |
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144
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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150
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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151
pugnacious
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| adj.好斗的 | |
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152
bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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153
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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157
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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158
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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159
tribulation
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| n.苦难，灾难 | |
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160
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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161
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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foist
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| vt.把…强塞给，骗卖给 | |
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163
reprehension
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| n.非难，指责 | |
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eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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