He had not been there a fortnight before it was evident to him that life, complicated not only with the Latin grammar but with a new standard of English pronunciation, was a very difficult business, made all the more obscure by a thick mist of bash fulness. Tom, as you have observed, was never an exception among boys for ease of address; but the difficulty of enunciating a monosyllable in reply to Mr. or Mrs. Stelling was so great, that he even dreaded13 to be asked at table whether he would have more pudding. As to the percussion-caps, he had almost resolved, in the bitterness of his heart, that he would throw them into a neighboring pond; for not only was he the solitary14 pupil, but he began even to have a certain scepticism about guns, and a general sense that his theory of life was undermined. For Mr. Stelling thought nothing of guns, or horses either, apparently15; and yet it was impossible for Tom to despise Mr. Stelling as he had despised Old Goggles. If there were anything that was not thoroughly16 genuine about Mr. Stelling, it lay quite beyond Tom’s power to detect it; it is only by a wide comparison of facts that the wisest full-grown man can distinguish well-rolled barrels from mere17 supernal18 thunder.
Mr. Stelling was a well-sized, broad-chested man, not yet thirty, with flaxen hair standing19 erect20, and large lightish-gray eyes, which were always very wide open; he had a sonorous21 bass22 voice, and an air of defiant23 self-confidence inclining to brazenness24. He had entered on his career with great vigor25, and intended to make a considerable impression on his fellowmen. The Rev. Walter Stelling was not a man who would remain among the “inferior clergy” all his life. He had a true British determination to push his way in the world — as a schoolmaster, in the first place, for there were capital masterships of grammar-schools to be had, and Mr. Stelling meant to have one of them; but as a preacher also, for he meant always to preach in a striking manner, so as to have his congregation swelled26 by admirers from neighboring parishes, and to produce a great sensation whenever he took occasional duty for a brother clergyman of minor27 gifts. The style of preaching he had chosen was the extemporaneous28, which was held little short of the miraculous29 in rural parishes like King’s Lorton. Some passages of Massillon and Bourdaloue, which he knew by heart, were really very effective when rolled out in Mr. Stelling’s deepest tones; but as comparatively feeble appeals of his own were delivered in the same loud and impressive manner, they were often thought quite as striking by his hearers. Mr. Stelling’s doctrine30 was of no particular school; if anything, it had a tinge31 of evangelicalism, for that was “the telling thing” just then in the diocese to which King’s Lorton belonged. In short, Mr. Stelling was a man who meant to rise in his profession, and to rise by merit, clearly, since he had no interest beyond what might be promised by a problematic relationship to a great lawyer who had not yet become Lord Chancellor32. A clergyman who has such vigorous intentions naturally gets a little into debt at starting; it is not to be expected that he will live in the meagre style of a man who means to be a poor curate all his life; and if the few hundreds Mr. Timpson advanced toward his daughter’s fortune did not suffice for the purchase of handsome furniture, together with a stock of wine, a grand piano, and the laying out of a superior flower-garden, it followed in the most rigorous manner, either that these things must be procured33 by some other means, or else that the Rev. Mr. Stelling must go without them, which last alternative would be an absurd procrastination35 of the fruits of success, where success was certain. Mr. Stelling was so broad-chested and resolute36 that he felt equal to anything; he would become celebrated37 by shaking the consciences of his hearers, and he would by and by edit a Greek play, and invent several new readings. He had not yet selected the play, for having been married little more than two years, his leisure time had been much occupied with attentions to Mrs. Stelling; but he had told that fine woman what he meant to do some day, and she felt great confidence in her husband, as a man who understood everything of that sort.
But the immediate38 step to future success was to bring on Tom Tulliver during this first half-year; for, by a singular coincidence, there had been some negotiation39 concerning another pupil from the same neighborhood and it might further a decision in Mr. Stelling’s favor, if it were understood that young Tulliver, who, Mr. Stelling observed in conjugal40 privacy, was rather a rough cub41, had made prodigious42 progress in a short time. It was on this ground that he was severe with Tom about his lessons; he was clearly a boy whose powers would never be developed through the medium of the Latin grammar, without the application of some sternness. Not that Mr. Stelling was a harsh-tempered or unkind man; quite the contrary. He was jocose43 with Tom at table, and corrected his provincialisms and his deportment in the most playful manner; but poor Tom was only the more cowed and confused by this double novelty, for he had never been used to jokes at all like Mr. Stelling’s; and for the first time in his life he had a painful sense that he was all wrong somehow. When Mr. Stelling said, as the roast-beef was being uncovered, “Now, Tulliver! which would you rather decline, roast-beef or the Latin for it?” Tom, to whom in his coolest moments a pun would have been a hard nut, was thrown into a state of embarrassed alarm that made everything dim to him except the feeling that he would rather not have anything to do with Latin; of course he answered, “Roast-beef,” whereupon there followed much laughter and some practical joking with the plates, from which Tom gathered that he had in some mysterious way refused beef, and, in fact, made himself appear “a silly.” If he could have seen a fellow-pupil undergo these painful operations and survive them in good spirits, he might sooner have taken them as a matter of course. But there are two expensive forms of education, either of which a parent may procure34 for his son by sending him as solitary pupil to a clergyman: one is the enjoyment44 of the reverend gentleman’s undivided neglect; the other is the endurance of the reverend gentleman’s undivided attention. It was the latter privilege for which Mr. Tulliver paid a high price in Tom’s initiatory45 months at King’s Lorton.
That respectable miller46 and maltster had left Tom behind, and driven homeward in a state of great mental satisfaction. He considered that it was a happy moment for him when he had thought of asking Riley’s advice about a tutor for Tom. Mr. Stelling’s eyes were so wide open, and he talked in such an off-hand, matter-of-fact way, answering every difficult, slow remark of Mr. Tulliver’s with, “I see, my good sir, I see”; “To be sure, to be sure”; “You want your son to be a man who will make his way in the world,”— that Mr. Tulliver was delighted to find in him a clergyman whose knowledge was so applicable to the every-day affairs of this life. Except Counsellor Wylde, whom he had heard at the last sessions, Mr. Tulliver thought the Rev. Mr Stelling was the shrewdest fellow he had ever met with — not unlike Wylde, in fact; he had the same way of sticking his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat. Mr. Tulliver was not by any means an exception in mistaking brazenness for shrewdness; most laymen47 thought Stelling shrewd, and a man of remarkable48 powers generally; it was chiefly by his clerical brethren that he was considered rather a full fellow. But he told Mr. Tulliver several stories about “Swing” and incendiarism, and asked his advice about feeding pigs in so thoroughly secular49 and judicious50 a manner, with so much polished glibness51 of tongue, that the miller thought, here was the very thing he wanted for Tom. He had no doubt this first-rate man was acquainted with every branch of information, and knew exactly what Tom must learn in order to become a match for the lawyers, which poor Mr. Tulliver himself did not know, and so was necessarily thrown for self-direction on this wide kind of inference. It is hardly fair to laugh at him, for I have known much more highly instructed persons than he make inferences quite as wide, and not at all wiser.
As for Mrs. Tulliver, finding that Mrs. Stelling’s views as to the airing of linen52 and the frequent recurrence53 of hunger in a growing boy entirely coincided with her own; moreover, that Mrs. Stelling, though so young a woman, and only anticipating her second confinement54, had gone through very nearly the same experience as herself with regard to the behavior and fundamental character of the monthly nurse — she expressed great contentment to her husband, when they drove away, at leaving Tom with a woman who, in spite of her youth, seemed quite sensible and motherly, and asked advice as prettily55 as could be.
“They must be very well off, though,” said Mrs. Tulliver, “for everything’s as nice as can be all over the house, and that watered silk she had on cost a pretty penny. Sister Pullet has got one like it.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Tulliver, “he’s got some income besides the curacy, I reckon. Perhaps her father allows ’em something. There’s Tom ‘ull be another hundred to him, and not much trouble either, by his own account; he says teaching comes natural to him. That’s wonderful, now,” added Mr. Tulliver, turning his head on one side, and giving his horse a meditative56 tickling57 on the flank.
Perhaps it was because teaching came naturally to Mr. Stelling, that he set about it with that uniformity of method and independence of circumstances which distinguish the actions of animals understood to be under the immediate teaching of nature. Mr. Broderip’s amiable58 beaver59, as that charming naturalist60 tells us, busied himself as earnestly in constructing a dam, in a room up three pair of stairs in London, as if he had been laying his foundation in a stream or lake in Upper Canada. It was “Binny’s” function to build; the absence of water or of possible progeny61 was an accident for which he was not accountable. With the same unerring instinct Mr. Stelling set to work at his natural method of instilling62 the Eton Grammar and Euclid into the mind of Tom Tulliver. This, he considered, was the only basis of solid instruction; all other means of education were mere charlatanism63, and could produce nothing better than smatterers. Fixed64 on this firm basis, a man might observe the display of various or special knowledge made by irregularly educated people with a pitying smile; all that sort of thing was very well, but it was impossible these people could form sound opinions. In holding this conviction Mr. Stelling was not biassed65, as some tutors have been, by the excessive accuracy or extent of his own scholarship; and as to his views about Euclid, no opinion could have been freer from personal partiality. Mr. Stelling was very far from being led astray by enthusiasm, either religious or intellectual; on the other hand, he had no secret belief that everything was humbug66. He thought religion was a very excellent thing, and Aristotle a great authority, and deaneries and prebends useful institutions, and Great Britain the providential bulwark67 of Protestantism, and faith in the unseen a great support to afflicted68 minds; he believed in all these things, as a Swiss hotel-keeper believes in the beauty of the scenery around him, and in the pleasure it gives to artistic69 visitors. And in the same way Mr. Stelling believed in his method of education; he had no doubt that he was doing the very best thing for Mr. Tulliver’s boy. Of course, when the miller talked of “mapping” and “summing” in a vague and diffident manner, Mr Stelling had set his mind at rest by an assurance that he understood what was wanted; for how was it possible the good man could form any reasonable judgment70 about the matter? Mr Stelling’s duty was to teach the lad in the only right way — indeed he knew no other; he had not wasted his time in the acquirement of anything abnormal.
He very soon set down poor Tom as a thoroughly stupid lad; for though by hard labor71 he could get particular declensions into his brain, anything so abstract as the relation between cases and terminations could by no means get such a lodgment there as to enable him to recognize a chance genitive or dative. This struck Mr. Stelling as something more than natural stupidity; he suspected obstinacy72, or at any rate indifference73, and lectured Tom severely74 on his want of thorough application. “You feel no interest in what you’re doing, sir,” Mr. Stelling would say, and the reproach was painfully true. Tom had never found any difficulty in discerning a pointer from a setter, when once he had been told the distinction, and his perceptive75 powers were not at all deficient76. I fancy they were quite as strong as those of the Rev. Mr. Stelling; for Tom could predict with accuracy what number of horses were cantering behind him, he could throw a stone right into the centre of a given ripple77, he could guess to a fraction how many lengths of his stick it would take to reach across the playground, and could draw almost perfect squares on his slate78 without any measurement. But Mr. Stelling took no note of these things; he only observed that Tom’s faculties79 failed him before the abstractions hideously80 symbolized81 to him in the pages of the Eton Grammar, and that he was in a state bordering on idiocy82 with regard to the demonstration83 that two given triangles must be equal, though he could discern with great promptitude and certainty the fact that they were equal. Whence Mr. Stelling concluded that Tom’s brain, being peculiarly impervious85 to etymology86 and demonstrations87, was peculiarly in need of being ploughed and harrowed by these patent implements88; it was his favorite metaphor89, that the classics and geometry constituted that culture of the mind which prepared it for the reception of any subsequent crop. I say nothing against Mr. Stelling’s theory; if we are to have one regimen for all minds, his seems to me as good as any other. I only know it turned out as uncomfortably for Tom Tulliver as if he had been plied90 with cheese in order to remedy a gastric91 weakness which prevented him from digesting it. It is astonishing what a different result one gets by changing the metaphor! Once call the brain an intellectual stomach, and one’s ingenious conception of the classics and geometry as ploughs and harrows seems to settle nothing. But then it is open to some one else to follow great authorities, and call the mind a sheet of white paper or a mirror, in which case one’s knowledge of the digestive process becomes quite irrelevant92. It was doubtless an ingenious idea to call the camel the ship of the desert, but it would hardly lead one far in training that useful beast. O Aristotle! if you had had the advantage of being “the freshest modern” instead of the greatest ancient, would you not have mingled93 your praise of metaphorical94 speech, as a sign of high intelligence, with a lamentation95 that intelligence so rarely shows itself in speech without metaphor — that we can so seldom declare what a thing is, except by saying it is something else?
Tom Tulliver, being abundant in no form of speech, did not use any metaphor to declare his views as to the nature of Latin; he never called it an instrument of torture; and it was not until he had got on some way in the next half-year, and in the Delectus, that he was advanced enough to call it a “bore” and “beastly stuff.” At present, in relation to this demand that he should learn Latin declensions and conjugations, Tom was in a state of as blank unimaginativeness concerning the cause and tendency of his sufferings, as if he had been an innocent shrewmouse imprisoned96 in the split trunk of an ash-tree in order to cure lameness97 in cattle. It is doubtless almost incredible to instructed minds of the present day that a boy of twelve, not belonging strictly98 to “the masses,” who are now understood to have the monopoly of mental darkness, should have had no distinct idea how there came to be such a thing as Latin on this earth; yet so it was with Tom. It would have taken a long while to make conceivable to him that there ever existed a people who bought and sold sheep and oxen, and transacted99 the every-day affairs of life, through the medium of this language; and still longer to make him understand why he should be called upon to learn it, when its connection with those affairs had become entirely latent. So far as Tom had gained any acquaintance with the Romans at Mr. Jacob’s academy, his knowledge was strictly correct, but it went no farther than the fact that they were “in the New Testament”; and Mr. Stelling was not the man to enfeeble and emasculate his pupil’s mind by simplifying and explaining, or to reduce the tonic100 effect of etymology by mixing it with smattering, extraneous101 information, such as is given to girls.
Yet, strange to say, under this vigorous treatment Tom became more like a girl than he had ever been in his life before. He had a large share of pride, which had hitherto found itself very comfortable in the world, despising Old Goggles, and reposing102 in the sense of unquestioned rights; but now this same pride met with nothing but bruises103 and crushings. Tom was too clear-sighted not to be aware that Mr. Stelling’s standard of things was quite different, was certainly something higher in the eyes of the world than that of the people he had been living amongst, and that, brought in contact with it, he, Tom Tulliver, appeared uncouth104 and stupid; he was by no means indifferent to this, and his pride got into an uneasy condition which quite nullified his boyish self-satisfaction, and gave him something of the girl’s susceptibility. He was a very firm, not to say obstinate105, disposition106, but there was no brute107-like rebellion and recklessness in his nature; the human sensibilities predominated, and if it had occurred to him that he could enable himself to show some quickness at his lessons, and so acquire Mr. Stelling’s approbation108, by standing on one leg for an inconvenient109 length of time, or rapping his head moderately against the wall, or any voluntary action of that sort, he would certainly have tried it. But no; Tom had never heard that these measures would brighten the understanding, or strengthen the verbal memory; and he was not given to hypothesis and experiment. It did occur to him that he could perhaps get some help by praying for it; but as the prayers he said every evening were forms learned by heart, he rather shrank from the novelty and irregularity of introducing an extempore passage on a topic of petition for which he was not aware of any precedent110. But one day, when he had broken down, for the fifth time, in the supines of the third conjugation, and Mr. Stelling, convinced that this must be carelessness, since it transcended111 the bounds of possible stupidity, had lectured him very seriously, pointing out that if he failed to seize the present golden opportunity of learning supines, he would have to regret it when he became a man — Tom, more miserable112 than usual, determined113 to try his sole resource; and that evening, after his usual form of prayer for his parents and “little sister” (he had begun to pray for Maggie when she was a baby), and that he might be able always to keep God’s commandments, he added, in the same low whisper, “and please to make me always remember my Latin.” He paused a little to consider how he should pray about Euclid — whether he should ask to see what it meant, or whether there was any other mental state which would be more applicable to the case. But at last he added: “And make Mr. Stelling say I sha’n’t do Euclid any more. Amen.”
The fact that he got through his supines without mistake the next day, encouraged him to persevere114 in this appendix to his prayers, and neutralized115 any scepticism that might have arisen from Mr. Stelling’s continued demand for Euclid. But his faith broke down under the apparent absence of all help when he got into the irregular verbs. It seemed clear that Tom’s despair under the caprices of the present tense did not constitute a nodus worthy116 of interference, and since this was the climax117 of his difficulties, where was the use of praying for help any longer? He made up his mind to this conclusion in one of his dull, lonely evenings, which he spent in the study, preparing his lessons for the morrow. His eyes were apt to get dim over the page, though he hated crying, and was ashamed of it; he couldn’t help thinking with some affection even of Spouncer, whom he used to fight and quarrel with; he would have felt at home with Spouncer, and in a condition of superiority. And then the mill, and the river, and Yap pricking118 up his ears, ready to obey the least sign when Tom said, “Hoigh!” would all come before him in a sort of calenture, when his fingers played absently in his pocket with his great knife and his coil of whipcord, and other relics119 of the past.
Tom, as I said, had never been so much like a girl in his life before, and at that epoch120 of irregular verbs his spirit was further depressed121 by a new means of mental development which had been thought of for him out of school hours. Mrs. Stelling had lately had her second baby, and as nothing could be more salutary for a boy than to feel himself useful, Mrs. Stelling considered she was doing Tom a service by setting him to watch the little cherub122 Laura while the nurse was occupied with the sickly baby. It was quite a pretty employment for Tom to take little Laura out in the sunniest hour of the autumn day; it would help to make him feel that Lorton Parsonage was a home for him, and that he was one of the family. The little cherub Laura, not being an accomplished123 walker at present, had a ribbon fastened round her waist, by which Tom held her as if she had been a little dog during the minutes in which she chose to walk; but as these were rare, he was for the most part carrying this fine child round and round the garden, within sight of Mrs. Stelling’s window, according to orders. If any one considers this unfair and even oppressive toward Tom, I beg him to consider that there are feminine virtues124 which are with difficulty combined, even if they are not incompatible125. When the wife of a poor curate contrives126, under all her disadvantages, to dress extremely well, and to have a style of coiffure which requires that her nurse shall occasionally officiate as lady’s-maid; when, moreover, her dinner-parties and her drawing-room show that effort at elegance127 and completeness of appointment to which ordinary women might imagine a large income necessary, it would be unreasonable128 to expect of her that she should employ a second nurse, or even act as a nurse herself. Mr. Stelling knew better; he saw that his wife did wonders already, and was proud of her. It was certainly not the best thing in the world for young Tulliver’s gait to carry a heavy child, but he had plenty of exercise in long walks with himself, and next half-year Mr. Stelling would see about having a drilling-master. Among the many means whereby Mr. Stelling intended to be more fortunate than the bulk of his fellow-men, he had entirely given up that of having his own way in his own house. What then? He had married “as kind a little soul as ever breathed,” according to Mr. Riley, who had been acquainted with Mrs. Stelling’s blond ringlets and smiling demeanor129 throughout her maiden130 life, and on the strength of that knowledge would have been ready any day to pronounce that whatever domestic differences might arise in her married life must be entirely Mr. Stelling’s fault.
If Tom had had a worse disposition, he would certainly have hated the little cherub Laura, but he was too kind-hearted a lad for that; there was too much in him of the fibre that turns to true manliness131, and to protecting pity for the weak. I am afraid he hated Mrs. Stelling, and contracted a lasting132 dislike to pale blond ringlets and broad plaits, as directly associated with haughtiness133 of manner, and a frequent reference to other people’s “duty.” But he couldn’t help playing with little Laura, and liking134 to amuse her; he even sacrificed his percussion-caps for her sake, in despair of their ever serving a greater purpose — thinking the small flash and bang would delight her, and thereby135 drawing down on himself a rebuke136 from Mrs. Stelling for teaching her child to play with fire. Laura was a sort of playfellow — and oh, how Tom longed for playfellows! In his secret heart he yearned137 to have Maggie with him, and was almost ready to dote on her exasperating138 acts of forgetfulness; though, when he was at home, he always represented it as a great favor on his part to let Maggie trot139 by his side on his pleasure excursions.
And before this dreary140 half-year was ended, Maggie actually came. Mrs. Stelling had given a general invitation for the little girl to come and stay with her brother; so when Mr. Tulliver drove over to King’s Lorton late in October, Maggie came too, with the sense that she was taking a great journey, and beginning to see the world. It was Mr. Tulliver’s first visit to see Tom, for the lad must learn not to think too much about home.
“Well, my lad,” he said to Tom, when Mr. Stelling had left the room to announce the arrival to his wife, and Maggie had begun to kiss Tom freely, “you look rarely! School agrees with you.”
Tom wished he had looked rather ill.
“I don’t think I am well, father,” said Tom; “I wish you’d ask Mr. Stelling not to let me do Euclid; it brings on the toothache, I think.”
(The toothache was the only malady141 to which Tom had ever been subject.)
“Euclid, my lad — why, what’s that?” said Mr. Tulliver.
“Oh, I don’t know; it’s definitions, and axioms, and triangles, and things. It’s a book I’ve got to learn in — there’s no sense in it.”
“Go, go!” said Mr. Tulliver, reprovingly; “you mustn’t say so. You must learn what your master tells you. He knows what it’s right for you to learn.”
“I’ll help you now, Tom,” said Maggie, with a little air of patronizing consolation142. “I’m come to stay ever so long, if Mrs. Stelling asks me. I’ve brought my box and my pinafores, haven’t I, father?”
“You help me, you silly little thing!” said Tom, in such high spirits at this announcement that he quite enjoyed the idea of confounding Maggie by showing her a page of Euclid. “I should like to see you doing one of my lessons! Why, I learn Latin too! Girls never learn such things. They’re too silly.”
“I know what Latin is very well,” said Maggie, confidently, “Latin’s a language. There are Latin words in the Dictionary. There’s bonus, a gift.”
“Now, you’re just wrong there, Miss Maggie!” said Tom, secretly astonished. “You think you’re very wise! But ‘bonus’ means ‘good,’ as it happens — bonus, bona, bonum.”
“Well, that’s no reason why it shouldn’t mean ‘gift,’” said Maggie, stoutly143. “It may mean several things; almost every word does. There’s ‘lawn,’— it means the grass-plot, as well as the stuff pocket- handkerchiefs are made of.”
“Well done, little ’un,” said Mr. Tulliver, laughing, while Tom felt rather disgusted with Maggie’s knowingness, though beyond measure cheerful at the thought that she was going to stay with him. Her conceit144 would soon be overawed by the actual inspection145 of his books.
Mrs. Stelling, in her pressing invitation, did not mention a longer time than a week for Maggie’s stay; but Mr. Stelling, who took her between his knees, and asked her where she stole her dark eyes from, insisted that she must stay a fortnight. Maggie thought Mr. Stelling was a charming man, and Mr. Tulliver was quite proud to leave his little wench where she would have an opportunity of showing her cleverness to appreciating strangers. So it was agreed that she should not be fetched home till the end of the fortnight.
“Now, then, come with me into the study, Maggie,” said Tom, as their father drove away. “What do you shake and toss your head now for, you silly?” he continued; for though her hair was now under a new dispensation, and was brushed smoothly146 behind her ears, she seemed still in imagination to be tossing it out of her eyes. “It makes you look as if you were crazy.”
“Oh, I can’t help it,” said Maggie, impatiently. “Don’t tease me, Tom. Oh, what books!” she exclaimed, as she saw the bookcases in the study. “How I should like to have as many books as that!”
“Why, you couldn’t read one of ’em,” said Tom, triumphantly147. “They’re all Latin.”
“No, they aren’t,” said Maggie. “I can read the back of this — ‘History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.’”
“Well, what does that mean? You don’t know,” said Tom, wagging his head.
“But I could soon find out,” said Maggie, scornfully.
“Why, how?”
“I should look inside, and see what it was about.”
“You’d better not, Miss Maggie,” said Tom, seeing her hand on the volume. “Mr. Stelling lets nobody touch his books without leave, and I shall catch it, if you take it out.”
“Oh, very well. Let me see all your books, then,” said Maggie, turning to throw her arms round Tom’s neck, and rub his cheek with her small round nose.
Tom, in the gladness of his heart at having dear old Maggie to dispute with and crow over again, seized her round the waist, and began to jump with her round the large library table. Away they jumped with more and more vigor, till Maggie’s hair flew from behind her ears, and twirled about like an animated148 mop. But the revolutions round the table became more and more irregular in their sweep, till at last reaching Mr. Stelling’s reading stand, they sent it thundering down with its heavy lexicons149 to the floor. Happily it was the ground-floor, and the study was a one-storied wing to the house, so that the downfall made no alarming resonance150, though Tom stood dizzy and aghast for a few minutes, dreading151 the appearance of Mr. or Mrs. Stelling.
“Oh, I say, Maggie,” said Tom at last, lifting up the stand, “we must keep quiet here, you know. If we break anything Mrs. Stelling’ll make us cry peccavi.”
“What’s that?” said Maggie.
“Oh, it’s the Latin for a good scolding,” said Tom, not without some pride in his knowledge.
“Is she a cross woman?” said Maggie.
“I believe you!” said Tom, with an emphatic152 nod.
“I think all women are crosser than men,” said Maggie. “Aunt Glegg’s a great deal crosser than uncle Glegg, and mother scolds me more than father does.”
“Well, you’ll be a woman some day,” said Tom, “so you needn’t talk.”
“But I shall be a clever woman,” said Maggie, with a toss.
“Oh, I dare say, and a nasty conceited153 thing. Everybody’ll hate you.”
“But you oughtn’t to hate me, Tom; it’ll be very wicked of you, for I shall be your sister.”
“Yes, but if you’re a nasty disagreeable thing I shall hate you.”
“Oh, but, Tom, you won’t! I sha’n’t be disagreeable. I shall be very good to you, and I shall be good to everybody. You won’t hate me really, will you, Tom?”
“Oh, bother! never mind! Come, it’s time for me to learn my lessons. See here! what I’ve got to do,” said Tom, drawing Maggie toward him and showing her his theorem, while she pushed her hair behind her ears, and prepared herself to prove her capability154 of helping155 him in Euclid. She began to read with full confidence in her own powers, but presently, becoming quite bewildered, her face flushed with irritation156. It was unavoidable; she must confess her incompetency157, and she was not fond of humiliation158.
“It’s nonsense!” she said, “and very ugly stuff; nobody need want to make it out.”
“Ah, there, now, Miss Maggie!” said Tom, drawing the book away, and wagging his head at her, “You see you’re not so clever as you thought you were.”
“Oh,” said Maggie, pouting159, “I dare say I could make it out, if I’d learned what goes before, as you have.”
“But that’s what you just couldn’t, Miss Wisdom,” said Tom. “For it’s all the harder when you know what goes before; for then you’ve got to say what definition 3 is, and what axiom V. is. But get along with you now; I must go on with this. Here’s the Latin Grammar. See what you can make of that.”
Maggie found the Latin Grammar quite soothing160 after her mathematical mortification161; for she delighted in new words, and quickly found that there was an English Key at the end, which would make her very wise about Latin, at slight expense. She presently made up her mind to skip the rules in the Syntax, the examples became so absorbing. These mysterious sentences, snatched from an unknown context — like strange horns of beasts, and leaves of unknown plants, brought from some far-off region — gave boundless162 scope to her imagination, and were all the more fascinating because they were in a peculiar84 tongue of their own, which she could learn to interpret. It was really very interesting, the Latin Grammar that Tom had said no girls could learn; and she was proud because she found it interesting. The most fragmentary examples were her favourites. Mors omnibus est communis would have been jejune163, only she liked to know the Latin; but the fortunate gentleman whom every one congratulated because he had a son “endowed with such a disposition” afforded her a great deal of pleasant conjecture164, and she was quite lost in the “thick grove165 penetrable166 by no star,” when Tom called out —
“Now, then, Magsie, give us the Grammar!”
“Oh, Tom, it’s such a pretty book!” she said, as she jumped out of the large arm-chair to give it him; “it’s much prettier than the Dictionary. I could learn Latin very soon. I don’t think it’s at all hard.”
“Oh, I know what you’ve been doing,” said Tom; “you’ve been reading the English at the end. Any donkey can do that.”
Tom seized the book and opened it with a determined and business-like air, as much as to say that he had a lesson to learn which no donkeys would find themselves equal to. Maggie, rather piqued167, turned to the bookcases to amuse herself with puzzling out the titles.
Presently Tom called to her: “Here, Magsie, come and hear if I can say this. Stand at that end of the table, where Mr. Stelling sits when he hears me.”
Maggie obeyed, and took the open book.
“Where do you begin, Tom?”
“Oh, I begin at ‘Appellativa arborum,’ because I say all over again what I’ve been learning this week.”
Tom sailed along pretty well for three lines; and Maggie was beginning to forget her office of prompter in speculating as to what mas could mean, which came twice over, when he stuck fast at Sunt etiam volucrum.
“Don’t tell me, Maggie; Sunt etiam volucrum — Sunt etiam volucrum — ut ostrea, cetus ——”
“No,” said Maggie, opening her mouth and shaking her head.
“Sunt etiam volucrum,” said Tom, very slowly, as if the next words might be expected to come sooner when he gave them this strong hint that they were waited for.
“C, e, u,” said Maggie, getting impatient.
“Oh, I know — hold your tongue,” said Tom. “Ceu passer, hirundo; Ferarum — ferarum ——” Tom took his pencil and made several hard dots with it on his book-cover —”ferarum ——”
“Oh dear, oh dear, Tom,” said Maggie, “what a time you are! Ut ——”
“Ut ostrea ——”
“No, no,” said Maggie, “ut tigris ——”
“Oh yes, now I can do,” said Tom; “it was tigris, vulpes, I’d forgotten: ut tigris, volupes; et Piscium.”
With some further stammering168 and repetition, Tom got through the next few lines.
“Now, then,” he said, “the next is what I’ve just learned for to-morrow. Give me hold of the book a minute.”
After some whispered gabbling, assisted by the beating of his fist on the table, Tom returned the book.
“Mascula nomina in a,” he began.
“No, Tom,” said Maggie, “that doesn’t come next. It’s Nomen non creskens genittivo ——”
“Creskens genittivo!“ exclaimed Tom, with a derisive169 laugh, for Tom had learned this omitted passage for his yesterday’s lesson, and a young gentleman does not require an intimate or extensive acquaintance with Latin before he can feel the pitiable absurdity170 of a false quantity. “Creskens genittivo! What a little silly you are, Maggie!”
“Well, you needn’t laugh, Tom, for you didn’t remember it at all. I’m sure it’s spelt so; how was I to know?”
“Phee-e-e-h! I told you girls couldn’t learn Latin. It’s Nomen non crescens genitivo.”
“Very well, then,” said Maggie, pouting. I can say that as well as you can. And you don’t mind your stops. For you ought to stop twice as long at a semicolon as you do at a comma, and you make the longest stops where there ought to be no stop at all.”
“Oh, well, don’t chatter171. Let me go on.”
They were presently fetched to spend the rest of the evening in the drawing-room, and Maggie became so animated with Mr. Stelling, who, she felt sure, admired her cleverness, that Tom was rather amazed and alarmed at her audacity172. But she was suddenly subdued173 by Mr. Stelling’s alluding174 to a little girl of whom he had heard that she once ran away to the gypsies.
“What a very odd little girl that must be!” said Mrs. Stelling, meaning to be playful; but a playfulness that turned on her supposed oddity was not at all to Maggie’s taste. She feared that Mr. Stelling, after all, did not think much of her, and went to bed in rather low spirits. Mrs. Stelling, she felt, looked at her as if she thought her hair was very ugly because it hung down straight behind.
Nevertheless it was a very happy fortnight to Maggie, this visit to Tom. She was allowed to be in the study while he had his lessons, and in her various readings got very deep into the examples in the Latin Grammar. The astronomer175 who hated women generally caused her so much puzzling speculation176 that she one day asked Mr. Stelling if all astronomers177 hated women, or whether it was only this particular astronomer. But forestalling178 his answer, she said —
“I suppose it’s all astronomers; because, you know, they live up in high towers, and if the women came there they might talk and hinder them from looking at the stars.”
Mr. Stelling liked her prattle179 immensely, and they were on the best terms. She told Tom she should like to go to school to Mr. Stelling, as he did, and learn just the same things. She knew she could do Euclid, for she had looked into it again, and she saw what A B C meant; they were the names of the lines.
“I’m sure you couldn’t do it, now,” said Tom; “and I’ll just ask Mr. Stelling if you could.”
“I don’t mind,” said the little conceited minx, “I’ll ask him myself.”
“Mr. Stelling,” she said, that same evening when they were in the drawing-room, “couldn’t I do Euclid, and all Tom’s lessons, if you were to teach me instead of him?”
“No, you couldn’t,” said Tom, indignantly. “Girls can’t do Euclid; can they, sir?”
“They can pick up a little of everything, I dare say,” said Mr. Stelling. “They’ve a great deal of superficial cleverness; but they couldn’t go far into anything. They’re quick and shallow.”
Tom, delighted with this verdict, telegraphed his triumph by wagging his head at Maggie, behind Mr. Stelling’s chair. As for Maggie, she had hardly ever been so mortified180. She had been so proud to be called “quick” all her little life, and now it appeared that this quickness was the brand of inferiority. It would have been better to be slow, like Tom.
“Ha, ha! Miss Maggie!” said Tom, when they were alone; “you see it’s not such a fine thing to be quick. You’ll never go far into anything, you know.”
And Maggie was so oppressed by this dreadful destiny that she had no spirit for a retort.
But when this small apparatus181 of shallow quickness was fetched away in the gig by Luke, and the study was once more quite lonely for Tom, he missed her grievously. He had really been brighter, and had got through his lessons better, since she had been there; and she had asked Mr. Stelling so many questions about the Roman Empire, and whether there really ever was a man who said, in Latin, “I would not buy it for a farthing or a rotten nut,” or whether that had only been turned into Latin, that Tom had actually come to a dim understanding of the fact that there had once been people upon the earth who were so fortunate as to know Latin without learning it through the medium of the Eton Grammar. This luminous182 idea was a great addition to his historical acquirements during this half-year, which were otherwise confined to an epitomized history of the Jews.
But the dreary half-year did come to an end. How glad Tom was to see the last yellow leaves fluttering before the cold wind! The dark afternoons and the first December snow seemed to him far livelier than the August sunshine; and that he might make himself the surer about the flight of the days that were carrying him homeward, he stuck twenty-one sticks deep in a corner of the garden, when he was three weeks from the holidays, and pulled one up every day with a great wrench183, throwing it to a distance with a vigor of will which would have carried it to limbo184, if it had been in the nature of sticks to travel so far.
But it was worth purchasing, even at the heavy price of the Latin Grammar, the happiness of seeing the bright light in the parlor185 at home, as the gig passed noiselessly over the snow-covered bridge; the happiness of passing from the cold air to the warmth and the kisses and the smiles of that familiar hearth186, where the pattern of the rug and the grate and the fire-irons were “first ideas” that it was no more possible to criticise187 than the solidity and extension of matter. There is no sense of ease like the ease we felt in those scenes where we were born, where objects became dear to us before we had known the labor of choice, and where the outer world seemed only an extension of our own personality; we accepted and loved it as we accepted our own sense of existence and our own limbs. Very commonplace, even ugly, that furniture of our early home might look if it were put up to auction188; an improved taste in upholstery scorns it; and is not the striving after something better and better in our surroundings the grand characteristic that distinguishes man from the brute, or, to satisfy a scrupulous189 accuracy of definition, that distinguishes the British man from the foreign brute? But heaven knows where that striving might lead us, if our affections had not a trick of twining round those old inferior things; if the loves and sanctities of our life had no deep immovable roots in memory. One’s delight in an elderberry bush overhanging the confused leafage of a hedgerow bank, as a more gladdening sight than the finest cistus or fuchsia spreading itself on the softest undulating turf, is an entirely unjustifiable preference to a nursery-gardener, or to any of those regulated minds who are free from the weakness of any attachment190 that does not rest on a demonstrable superiority of qualities. And there is no better reason for preferring this elderberry bush than that it stirs an early memory; that it is no novelty in my life, speaking to me merely through my present sensibilities to form and color, but the long companion of my existence, that wove itself into my joys when joys were vivid.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rev
|
|
| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
goggles
|
|
| n.护目镜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
arabesques
|
|
| n.阿拉伯式花饰( arabesque的名词复数 )；错综图饰；阿拉伯图案；阿拉贝斯克芭蕾舞姿（独脚站立，手前伸，另一脚一手向后伸） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
6
spout
|
|
| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bungling
|
|
| adj.笨拙的，粗劣的v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的现在分词 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
accomplishments
|
|
| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
mare
|
|
| n.母马，母驴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
scripture
|
|
| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
supernal
|
|
| adj.天堂的，天上的；崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sonorous
|
|
| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
defiant
|
|
| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
brazenness
|
|
| 厚颜无耻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
vigor
|
|
| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
extemporaneous
|
|
| adj.即席的，一时的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
miraculous
|
|
| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
chancellor
|
|
| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
procrastination
|
|
| n.拖延，耽搁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
negotiation
|
|
| n.谈判，协商 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
conjugal
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
cub
|
|
| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
prodigious
|
|
| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
jocose
|
|
| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
initiatory
|
|
| adj.开始的；创始的；入会的；入社的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
miller
|
|
| n.磨坊主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
laymen
|
|
| 门外汉，外行人( layman的名词复数 )； 普通教徒（有别于神职人员） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
secular
|
|
| n.牧师，凡人；adj.世俗的，现世的，不朽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
glibness
|
|
| n.花言巧语；口若悬河 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
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： |
|
|
|
|
53
recurrence
|
|
| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
confinement
|
|
| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
prettily
|
|
| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
meditative
|
|
| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
tickling
|
|
| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
beaver
|
|
| n.海狸，河狸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
naturalist
|
|
| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
progeny
|
|
| n.后代，子孙；结果 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
instilling
|
|
| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instil的现在分词 )；逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
charlatanism
|
|
| n.庸医术，庸医的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
biassed
|
|
| （统计试验中）结果偏倚的，有偏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
66
humbug
|
|
| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
bulwark
|
|
| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
afflicted
|
|
| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
obstinacy
|
|
| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
perceptive
|
|
| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
deficient
|
|
| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
ripple
|
|
| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
slate
|
|
| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
faculties
|
|
| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
hideously
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
symbolized
|
|
| v.象征，作为…的象征( symbolize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
idiocy
|
|
| n.愚蠢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
impervious
|
|
| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
etymology
|
|
| n.语源；字源学 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
demonstrations
|
|
| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
implements
|
|
| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
metaphor
|
|
| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
plied
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
gastric
|
|
| adj.胃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
irrelevant
|
|
| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
metaphorical
|
|
| a.隐喻的，比喻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
lamentation
|
|
| n.悲叹，哀悼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
lameness
|
|
| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
transacted
|
|
| v.办理（业务等）( transact的过去式和过去分词 )；交易，谈判 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
tonic
|
|
| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
extraneous
|
|
| adj.体外的；外来的；外部的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
reposing
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
bruises
|
|
| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
uncouth
|
|
| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
obstinate
|
|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
approbation
|
|
| n.称赞；认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
precedent
|
|
| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
transcended
|
|
| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的过去式和过去分词 )； 优于或胜过… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
persevere
|
|
| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
neutralized
|
|
| v.使失效( neutralize的过去式和过去分词 )；抵消；中和；使（一个国家）中立化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
pricking
|
|
| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
relics
|
|
| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
epoch
|
|
| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
cherub
|
|
| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
incompatible
|
|
| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
contrives
|
|
| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的第三人称单数 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
demeanor
|
|
| n.行为；风度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
manliness
|
|
| 刚毅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
haughtiness
|
|
| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
rebuke
|
|
| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
exasperating
|
|
| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
malady
|
|
| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
stoutly
|
|
| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
conceit
|
|
| n.自负，自高自大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
lexicons
|
|
| n.词典( lexicon的名词复数 )；专门词汇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
resonance
|
|
| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
dreading
|
|
| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
conceited
|
|
| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
capability
|
|
| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
incompetency
|
|
| n.无能力，不适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
humiliation
|
|
| n.羞辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
pouting
|
|
| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
mortification
|
|
| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
boundless
|
|
| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
jejune
|
|
| adj.枯燥无味的，贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
penetrable
|
|
| adj.可穿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
piqued
|
|
| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
stammering
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
derisive
|
|
| adj.嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
audacity
|
|
| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
alluding
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
astronomer
|
|
| n.天文学家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
astronomers
|
|
| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
forestalling
|
|
| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
179
prattle
|
|
| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
mortified
|
|
| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
apparatus
|
|
| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
wrench
|
|
| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
limbo
|
|
| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
parlor
|
|
| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
criticise
|
|
| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
auction
|
|
| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
scrupulous
|
|
| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |