With eldest1 daughter to Egypt — Return by Italy and Spain — Abu Simbel with Carter — Bee’s nest 2000 years old — “The Way of the Spirit” — Dedicated2 to Kipling — Death of H. R. H.‘s retriever Bob — Appears to him in dream — Report published in Journal of Society for Psychical3 Research — Lasting4 effect on H. R. H.‘s mind — More dream-pictures — Sir Oliver Lodge5.
Early in 1904 I took my daughter Angela on a trip to Egypt, returning by way of Italy and Spain. We went out on one of the new P. & O. boats which was making her maiden6 voyage, and experienced the most awful weather. We began by grounding in the Thames and, after a short stop to bury a Lascar overboard — who, poor fellow, had died of the cold — ran into a terrific gale7 in the Channel. The wind-gauges registered its pace at about eighty miles the hour, after which their bottoms were blown out or something happened to them. Then the fore8-hatch was stove in and filled with water, as did the passages along which we had to walk from the cabins. Time after time did we stop to try and make that hatch good with four-inch teak planks9, but always these were broken by the force of the sea.
Our subsequent misfortunes were many. We were taken in closer to Ushant than I thought pleasant; the new engines heated; the chief engineer went mad with the strain and, when at length we did reach Port Said, had to be carried ashore10 raving11. I believe that he died not long afterwards. One night this poor fellow, dressed in full uniform, rushed from cabin to cabin, telling the passengers to get up as the ship was sinking!
We took the turn into the Mediterranean12 about twenty-four hours late, and in the dense13 darkness caused by a fearful squall nearly went ashore on the coast of Africa, as the Delhi did in after years — I saw her wreck14 only the other day. When the light came I had a nearer view of that shore than I ever wish to see again — from the deck of an ocean liner. In Gibraltar harbour we fouled15 our anchor in a man-of-war’s mooring16 chains and had to slip it. In the Gulf17 of Lyons we encountered a very bad mistral while we were trying to sling18 another anchor into its place. There it hung over the bow, bumping against the side of the ship. By this time the Lascars seemed to be practically useless, and the first officer was obliged to slide down the chain and sit on the fluke of the anchor, shouting directions. It was a strange sight to see this plucky19 young gentleman swinging about there over the deep. He was — and I trust still is — a man of whom the country might be proud, but I have long forgotten his name. In the end we crawled into Marseilles at three knots the hour, where some of the passengers left the ship, one of them explaining, for the comfort of the rest of us, that he had the strongest presentiments20 that she was going to sink.
Our next adventure was a sandstorm blowing from the coast of Africa which turned the day to darkness and covered the decks with a kind of mud. Then suddenly the vessel21 was put about, and it was discovered that the soundings showed that we were uncomfortably near the coast of Crete. As the dear old captain, who had been much cut about by a sea that knocked him down on the bridge, remarked, “he knew what was behind him and did not know what was before”; also that “where he had once been he could go again.” Subsequently our fore well-deck filled three times to the bulwarks23, shipping24 seas in the most unaccountable manner.
However, we came to Port Said at length, and got ashore at about midnight as best we could. Never was I more glad to find myself on land again.
I enjoyed that trip in Egypt very much. The place has a strange fascination25 for me, and if I could afford it I would go there every year. On this my second visit we went as far as the wonderful rock-temple of Abu Simbel, near the Second Cataract26 of the Nile. Also I had the good fortune to be with Mr. Carter, then the local custodian27 of antiquities28 at Luxor; when we visited the tomb of Queen Nefer-tari, which, with the exception of the discover, who, I think, was Professor Scaparelli, we were, I believe, the first white men to enter.
It was wonderful to see those paintings of her late Majesty29 as fresh as the day that the artist left them. In one of them, I remember, she is represented playing chess. The tomb had been robbed a couple of thousand years or so ago. When the ancient thief broke in it had recently been flooded by a rain-storm, and there on the walls were the marks of his hand printed on the paint which then was wet. Also a hermit30 bee had built its nest upon the roof — two thousand or so of years ago! The sarcophagus had been broken up for its costly31 granite32, which doubtless was worked into statues by some old-world sculptor33, and the body of the beautiful favourite queen of Rameses destroyed. Some bones lay about in the tomb-chamber34, probably those of the funeral offerings, and among them ushapti figures, laid there to serve her Majesty in the other world.
I wrote a series of articles for the Daily Mail about these Egyptian experiences, which have never been republished, for such newspaper matter must needs be very scrappy. In one of these, however, I dwelt upon the wholesale35 robbery of the ancient Egyptian tombs and the consequent desecration36 of the dead who lie therein. It does indeed seem wrong that people with whom it was the first article of religion that their mortal remains37 should lie undisturbed until the Day of Resurrection should be haled forth38, stripped and broken up, or sold to museums and tourists. How should we like our own bodies to be treated in such a fashion, or to be left lying, as I have often see those of the Egyptians, naked and unsightly on the sand at the mouths of the holy sepulchres which with toil39 and cost they had prepared for themselves in their life-days? If one puts the question to those engaged in excavation40, the answer is a shrug41 of the shoulders and a remark to the effect that they died a long while ago. But what is time to the dead? To them, waking or sleeping, ten thousand years and a nap after dinner must be one and the same thing. I have tried to emphasise42 this point in a little story that I have recently written under the title of “Smith and the Pharaohs.”
Now I must dwell no more on Egypt with all its history and problems, which, whenever I can find time, it is my greatest recreation to study. Truly its old inhabitants were a mysterious and fascinating folk and, across the gulf of ages — largely, it must be admitted, through these very excavations43 — they have come very near to us again. I confess I know more of her kings, her queens, and her social conditions than I do of those of early England.
From Egypt we went to Naples and from Naples to the south of Spain, which I now visited for the first time in preparation for a tale which I wrote afterwards and named “Fair Margaret.”
At Granada we saw that wondrous44 building, the Alhambra, and in the cathedral the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic. I descended45 into a vault46 and was shown the coffins47 of these great people; also those of Philip le Bel and his wife Joanna. Readers of Prescott will remember that the man Joanna insisted upon opening the coffin48 of her husband after he had been some while dead. I procured49 a candle and examined it, and there I could see the line where the lead had been cut through and soldered50 together again.
Of all the buildings that I saw upon this journey I think the mosque51 at Cordova, with its marvellous shrine52 and its forest of pillars of many-coloured marbles, struck me as the most impressive. The great cathedral at Seville, however, with its vast cold spaces runs it hard in majesty.
On my return to England I wrote “The Way of the Spirit,” an Anglo–Egyptian book which is dedicated to Kipling, and one that interested him very much. Indeed he and I hunted out the title together in the Bible, as that of “Renunciation,” by which it was first called, did not please him. Or perhaps this had been used before. I was glad to receive many letters from strangers thanking me for it.
In July 1904 there happened to me a very extraordinary incident. The story is contained in a letter from me which appeared in The Times for July 21, 1904, together with letters from various other persons testifying to the facts of the case. These letters and other matter were included in the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research for October 1904, from which I make short extracts relating the facts. Should any one wish to study it in detail, with the corroborating53 letters, they are referred to the number of the Society’s Journal.
On the night of Saturday, July 9, I went to bed about 12.30, and suffered from what I took to be a nightmare. I was awakened54 by my wife’s voice calling to me from her own bed upon the other side of the room. I dreamed that a black retriever dog, a most amiable55 and intelligent beast named Bob, which was the property of my eldest daughter, was lying on its side among brushwood, or rough growth of some sort, by water. In my vision the dog was trying to speak to me in words, and, failing, transmitted to my mind in an undefined fashion the knowledge that it was dying. Then everything vanished, and I woke to hear my wife asking me why on earth I was making those horrible and weird57 noises. I replied that I had had a nightmare about a fearful struggle, and that I had dreamed that old Bob was in a dreadful way, and was trying to talk to me and to tell me about it.
On the Sunday morning Mrs. Rider Haggard told the tale at breakfast, and I repeated my story in a few words.
Thinking that the whole thing was nothing more than a disagreeable dream, I made no inquiries59 about the dog and never learned even that it was missing until that Sunday night, when my little girl, who was in the habit of feeding it, told me so. At breakfast-time, I may add, nobody knew that it was gone, as it had been seen late on the previous evening. Then I remembered my dream, and the following day inquiries were set on foot.
To be brief, on the morning of Thursday, the 14th, my servant, Charles Bedingfield, and I discovered the body of the dog floating in the Waveney against a weir58 about a mile and a quarter away.
On Friday, the 15th, I was going into Bungay when at the level crossing on the Bungay road I was hailed by two plate-layers, who are named respectively George Arterton and Harry60 Alger. These men informed me that the dog had been killed by a train, and took me on a trolly down to a certain open-work bridge which crosses the water between Ditchingham and Bungay, where they showed me evidence of its death. This is the sum of their evidence:
It appears that about 7 o’clock upon the Monday morning, very shortly after the first train had passed, in the course of his duties Harry Alger was on the bridge, where he found a dog’s collar torn off and broken by the engine (since produced and positively61 identified as that worn by Bob), coagulated blood, and bits of flesh, of which remnants he cleaned the rails. On search also I personally found portions of black hair from the coat of a dog. On the Monday afternoon and subsequently his mate saw the body of the dog floating in the water beneath the bridge, whence it drifted down to the weir, it having risen with the natural expansion of gases, such as, in this hot weather, might be expected to occur within about forty hours of death. It would seem that the animal must have been killed by an excursion train that left Ditchingham at 10.25 on Saturday night, returning empty from Harlestone a little after 11. This was the last train which ran that night. No trains run on Sunday, and it is practically certain that it cannot have been killed on the Monday morning, for then the blood would have been still fluid. Further, if it was living, the dog would almost certainly have come home during Sunday, and its body would not have risen so quickly from the bottom of the river, or presented the appearance it did on Thursday morning. From traces left upon the piers62 of the bridge it appeared that the animal was knocked or carried along some yards by the train and fell into the brink63 of the water where reeds grow. Here, if it were still living — and, although the veterinary thinks that death was practically instantaneous, its life may perhaps have lingered for a few minutes — it must have suffocated64 and sunk, undergoing, I imagine, much the same sensations as I did in my dream, and in very similar surroundings to those that I saw therein — namely, amongst a scrubby growth at the edge of water.
I am forced to conclude that the dog Bob, between whom and myself there existed a mutual65 attachment66, either at the moment of his death, if his existence can conceivably have been prolonged till after one in the morning, or, as seems more probable, about three hours after that event, did succeed in calling my attention to its actual or recent plight67 by placing whatever portion of my being is capable of receiving such impulses when enchained by sleep, into its own terrible position.
On the remarkable68 issues opened up by this occurrence I cannot venture to speak further than to say that — although it is dangerous to generalise from a particular instance, however striking and well supported by evidence, which is so rarely obtainable in such obscure cases — it does seem to suggest that there is a more intimate ghostly connection between all members of the animal world, including man, than has hitherto been believed, at any rate by Western peoples; that they may be, in short, all of them different manifestations69 of some central, informing life, though inhabiting the universe in such various shapes. The matter, however, is one for the consideration of learned people who have made a study of these mysterious questions. I will only add that I ask you to publish the annexed70 documents with this letter, as they constitute the written testimony71 at present available to the accuracy of what I state. Further, I may say that I shall welcome any investigation72 by competent persons.
I am, your obedient servant,
H. Rider Haggard.
To the Editor of The Times.
The editor of the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research says:
This case is one of very unusual interest from several points of view. It is, therefore, specially73 satisfactory to have it so well authenticated74, and Mr. Rider Haggard deserves the gratitude75 of psychical researchers for having collected all the available evidence so promptly76 and completely and put it at the disposal of the scientific world.
This experience produced a great effect upon me, and at first frightened and upset me somewhat, for without doubt it has a very uncanny side. By degrees, however, I came to see that it also has its lessons, notably77 one lesson — that of the kinship, I might almost say the oneness, of all animal life. I have always been fond of every kind of creature, and especially of dogs, some of which have been and are as very dear friends to me. But up to this date I had also been a sportsman. Shooting was my principal recreation, and one of which I was, and indeed still am, extremely fond. Greatly did I love a high pheasant, at which sometimes I made good marksmanship. But now, alas78! I only bring them down in imagination with an umbrella or a walking-stick. From that day forward, except noxious79 insects and so forth, I have killed nothing, and, although I should not hesitate to shoot again for food or for protection, I am by no means certain that the act would not make me feel unwell. Perhaps illogically, I make an exception in favour of fishing, and I daresay that if salmon80 came my way I might once more throw a fly for them. I do not think that fish feel much; also I always remember that, if He did not fish Himself, our Lord was frequently present while others did, even after His Resurrection; further, that he ate of the results, and indeed by His power made those results more plentiful81. Lastly, on one occasion — I allude82 to the case of the coin that was paid for poll-tax — this fishing was not carried on for the sake of food.
Again, harmful creatures must be destroyed since man must live, and so must those that are necessary to his physical sustenance83, such as sheep and cattle, that is, until he becomes a vegetarian84, as perhaps he will one day — a long while hence. In fact, subsequent to this date, I fell into great trouble and was held up to the readers of sundry85 journals as a cruel brute86 by persons who call themselves “humanitarians” because, as a farmer, I advocated an organised State crusade against rats and sparrows, which (owing largely to the destruction of the hawk87 and owl56 tribes, and of other creatures of prey88 in the interest of game preservation) work such incalculable damage in this country. “Humanitarians” evidently do not earn their living from the land. If they did they might take a different view of sparrows. It is, however, cheap to be pitiful at the expense of others!
I know that the above views on shooting may be thought a hard saying by many who greatly enjoy what they consider a harmless and a healthful sport. But really it is not so, since in such matters every man must act according to his own heart. If his conscience is not afraid of a thing, let him do it; if it is afraid, let him leave it alone. So talks St. Paul of whatever is sold in the shambles89. “To him that esteemeth anything to be unclean, it is unclean.” “All things indeed are pure; but it is evil for that man who eateth with offence.” And again, “He that doubteth is condemned90 if he eat because he eateth not of faith,” which I take it is another way of saying that a man must follow the light that is lit in him. Therefore, although I no longer shoot myself, I still go out shooting with my friends who are happy in so doing. So far as I am concerned, however, the net result of it all is that “Othello’s occupation’s gone.” I have now no recreation left save that of the garden and of my solitary91 walks about the farm, which lead, perhaps, to too much thinking.
The publication of this “Bob” correspondence in The Times and, I may add, everywhere throughout the civilised world, brought me many letters of which the general tenor92 went to prove that similar examples of such psychical or telepathic communications were by no means unknown, though none of these were quite so clear as that which I have set out above. Nor were they so well supported by evidence. Moreover, it seemed almost certain that the dog Bob communicated with me after its death, which, if it could be absolutely and finally proved, as it cannot, would solve one of the mysteries of our being, by showing that the spirit even of a dog can live on when its mortal frame is destroyed and physical death has happened. If a dog — then how much more a man!
None of the experiences of my correspondents went so far as this. A number of these letters I sent to the Psychical Research Society, but a great bundle of them still remains which I have not the time to re-read. On this point of the continuance of individual existence after physical death, I once wrote a letter to Sir Oliver Lodge, who is both an eminent93 man of science and a great student of such hidden matters. I asked him whether he possessed94 such evidence as would satisfy a reasonable person, say a judge or a juryman, of the fact of the continued existence of the individual after his physical death. He answered:
As to your question — it is not an easy one. By scientific experience I have myself become absolutely convinced of persistence95 of existence, and I regard death as an important episode — the reverse of birth — but neither of these episodes really initial or final. One is the assumption of connection with matter, the other is the abandoning of that connection.
If it be further asked whether after we have abandoned matter we can, by indirect means, occasionally continue to act upon it — on the matter of the inorganic96 world or the matter of our friends’ brains, for instance — I am inclined to answer, though now more doubtfully, that in my judgment97 the evidence points to the existence of some indistinct and undeveloped power of this sort.
The simplest and best developed variety of this continued interaction with matter is on the side of telepathy.
This is experimentally found existent between the living, and I have reason to believe that this is the one mode of communication which survives the transition, and that under favourable98 conditions we can still influence and be influenced by the process of events and emotions here . . . .
This is comforting, so far as it goes, and of course extremely interesting. But, after all, we have here only the experience and the deductions99 of one man who, brilliant and utterly100 upright as he is known to be, may still be mistaken like the rest of us. The manifestations exist — many can bear witness to them. But whence do they come? That is the question. May not some Power be mocking us that, directly or indirectly101, draws its strength from our vital forces and has its roots in our own intelligence, exalted102 in an access of spiritual intoxication103? Yet if so, this does not explain the “Bob” incident when I was seeking for nothing, and had gone to sleep tired out with my usual day’s work. Why, in such circumstances, should this dog have materialised itself in my slumbering104 brain and at the moment of its death, or rather, as I firmly believe, several hours after that event? Therein lies a hint of great marvels105.
Years afterwards another dream about an animal came to me which I embodied106 in the story called “The Mahatma and the Hare,” a little book that, up to the present, has no great public vogue107. Largely this is because so many of the papers neglected it as though it were something improper108. Their reason was, I think, that they feared to give offence to that great section of their readers who, directly or indirectly, are interested in sport, by extended notices of a parable109 which doubtless in its essence amounts to an attack upon our habit of killing110 other creatures for amusement. I hope, however, that its day may come, though perhaps not yet.
As I am touching111 on mystical subjects, probably for the last time, I will instance here a series of imaginings which developed themselves in my mind at intervals112 over a period of several months early in the present year. I noted113 them down at the time and, except for an addendum114 to No. 4, give them without alteration115, as I think it best not to interfere116 with the original words, on which, perhaps unconsciously, I might attempt to improve. Indeed it would be easy to make a story out of each of these mind-pictures. At the head of them I have stated the alternative explanations which occur to me. Personally I favour — indeed I might almost say that I accept — the last.
Only then the question will arise as to whether it is possible for us to imagine anything that has not, somewhere in this great universe whereof we only know the fringe, an actual counterpart, perhaps very distorted, of some unseen truth? However far we throw out our mental hands, can they close on anything which is not in its essence a fact, or the reflection of a fact? Are we not walled in by facts, and is it within our scope to travel one inch beyond that wall? But the thing is very subtle, and I am by no means certain that I make my meaning clear. Moreover, it could be argued in a dozen ways, and as these dream-pictures are merely given as a curiosity in which I have no personal faith, it is not worth while to waste time in discussing them. Here they are:
During the past few months there have come to me, generally between sleeping and waking, or so it seemed, certain pictures. These pictures, it would appear, might be attributed to either of the three following causes:
(1) Memories of some central incident that occurred in a previous incarnation.
(2) Racial memories of events that had happened to forefathers117.
(3) Subconscious118 imagination and invention.
Probably the last of these alternatives is the one which most people would accept, since it must be remembered that there is nothing in any one of these tableaux119 vivants which I could not have imagined — say as an incident of a romance.
Now, before I forget them, I will describe the pictures as well as I can.
1. A kind of bay in a thicket120 formed of such woods as are common in England today, especially hazel, as they would appear towards the end of June, in full leaf but still very green. A stream somewhere near. At back, in a tall bank, something like the Bath Hills,29 the mouth of a cavern121. About thirty feet from this a rough hut made of poles meeting on a central ridge22 (I have forgotten how it was thatched). In front of the hut a fire burning, and an idea of something being cooked by a skin-clad woman, I standing122 by, a youngish man, tall; children playing round, and notably a boy of about ten standing on the hither side of the fire, his nakedness half covered by the pelt123 of some animal, his skin, as he lifts his arms, very white. A general sense of something about to happen.
28 Above the river Waveney. — Ed.
2. A round hut, surrounded by a fence, standing on a grassy124 knoll125, no trees about. A black woman moving within the fence and, I think, some children; myself there also, as a black man. An alarm below, which causes me to take a spear and run out. A fight with attackers; attackers driven off, but I receive a spear-thrust right through the middle below the breast, and stagger up the slope mortally wounded back into the enclosure round the hut, where I fall into the arms of the woman and die.
3. A great palace built in the Egyptian style. Myself, a man of about thirty, in quaint126 and beautiful robes wound rather tightly round the body, walking at night up and down some half-enclosed and splendid chamber through which the air flows freely. A beautiful young woman with violet eyes creeps into the place like one who is afraid of being seen, creeps up to me, who start at seeing her and appear to indicate that she should go. Thereon the woman draws herself up and, instead of going, throws herself straight into the man’s arms.
4. An idea of boundless127 snows and great cold. Then the interior of a timber-built hall, say forty feet or more in length, a table by a doorway128 and on it three or four large dark-coloured trout129, such as might come from a big lake. Wooden vessels130 about, brightly painted. A fire burning in the centre of the hall, with no chimney. On the farther side of the fire a bench, and on the bench a young woman of not more than two — or three-and-twenty, apparently131 the same woman as she of the Egyptian picture, or very like her, with the identical large violet eyes, although rather taller. She is clothed in a tight-fitting grey dress, quite plain and without ornament132, made of some rough frieze133 and showing the outline of the figure beneath. The hair is fair, but I cannot remember exactly how it was arranged. The woman is evidently in great grief. She sits, her elbow resting on her knee, her chin in her hand, and stares hopelessly into the fire. Presently something attracts her attention, for she looks towards the door by the table, which opens and admits through it a tall man, who, I know, is myself, wearing armour134, for I catch the sheen of it in the firelight. The woman springs from the bench, runs round the fire, apparently screaming, and throws herself on to the breast of the man.
The general impression left is that she had believed him to be dead when he, probably her husband, appeared alive and well.
(Some months later I was favoured with an impression of another scene set in the same surroundings. In this picture postscript135, if I may call it so, the identical man and woman, now persons of early middle age, were standing together in bitter sorrow over the doubled-up and fully-dressed body of a beautiful lad of about eighteen years of age. Although I saw no wet upon his clothes I think that he had been drowned.)
5. The mouth of a tunnel or mine-adit running into a bare hillside strewn with rocks and debris136. Standing outside the tunnel a short, little woman of about twenty-five, with black hair, brown eyes, and brownish but not black skin, lightly clad in some nondescript kind of garment. Resting on her, his arms about her shoulders, an elderly man, very thin and short, with a sad, finely-cut face and sparse137 grizzled beard, wearing a dingy138 loin-cloth. The man’s right foot covered with blood, and so badly crushed that one of the bones projects from the instep. The woman weeping. By his side on the ground a kind of basket filled with lumps of ore, designed to be carried on the back and fitted with two flat loops of hide, with a breast-strap connecting them, something on the principle of a children’s toy reins139. Growing near by a plant of the aloe tribe, the bottom leaves dead, and some of those above scratched in their fleshy substance, as though for amusement.
Walking up the slope towards the pair a coarse, strong, vigorous, black-bearded man with projecting eyes. He is clothed in white robes and wears a queer-shaped hat or cap, I think with a point to it. From an ornamented140 belt about his middle hangs a short sword in a scabbard, with a yellowish handle ending in a knob shaped like to the head of a lion. He carries over his head a painted umbrella or sunshade that will not shut up, and is made either of thin strips of wood or of some kind of canvas stretched on a wooden frame.
General idea connected with the dream is that this man is an overseer of slaves who is about to kill the injured person as useless and take the woman for himself. She might be the daughter of the injured man, or possibly a wife a good deal younger than he. In any case she is intimately connected with him. Further idea. That the injured man was once an individual of consequence who has been reduced to slavery by some invading and more powerful race.
The characteristics of the site of the picture remind me of Cyprus.
I described these tableaux to Sir Oliver Lodge when I met him in the Athenaeum not long ago, and asked him his opinion concerning them. He was interested, but replied that if they had appeared to him he would have thought more of them than he did as they had appeared to me, because he said that he lacked imagination. The curious little details such as that of the dark-coloured trout on the table in No. 4, and that of the scratchings on the aloe leaves in No. 5, seemed to strike him very much, as did the fact that all the scenes were such as might very well, and indeed doubtless have occurred again and again in the course of our long human history, from the time of the cave-dwellers onwards. Probably if we could trace our ancestors back to the beginning, we should find that on one occasion or another they have happened to some of them. I may add that by far the prettiest and most idyllic141 of these pictures was that of the primitive142 family in the midst of its green setting of hazel boughs143 by the mouth of the cave. Only over it, as I have said, like a thunder-cloud brooded the sense of something terrible that was about to happen. I wonder what it was.
And now farewell to the occult. Mysticism in moderation adds a certain zest144 to life and helps to lift it above the level of the commonplace. But it is at best a dangerous sea to travel before the time. The swimmer therein will do well to keep near to this world’s sound and friendly shore lest the lights he sees from the crest145 of those bewildering, phantom146 waves should madden or blind him, and he sink, never to rise again. It is not good to listen for too long to the calling of those voices wild and sweet.
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eldest
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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psychical
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| adj.有关特异功能现象的；有关特异功能官能的；灵魂的；心灵的 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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planks
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ashore
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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14
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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15
fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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16
mooring
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| n.停泊处；系泊用具，系船具；下锚v.停泊，系泊（船只）(moor的现在分词) | |
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17
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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18
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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19
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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20
presentiments
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| n.（对不祥事物的）预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
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21
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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22
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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23
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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24
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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25
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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26
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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27
custodian
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| n.保管人，监护人；公共建筑看守 | |
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28
antiquities
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| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
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29
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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30
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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31
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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32
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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33
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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34
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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35
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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36
desecration
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| n. 亵渎神圣, 污辱 | |
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37
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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38
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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39
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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40
excavation
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| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
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41
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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42
emphasise
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| vt.加强...的语气，强调，着重 | |
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43
excavations
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| n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 )；开凿；开凿的洞穴（或山路等）；（发掘出来的）古迹 | |
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44
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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45
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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46
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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47
coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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48
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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49
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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50
soldered
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| v.（使）焊接，焊合( solder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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52
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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53
corroborating
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| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的现在分词 ) | |
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54
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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55
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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56
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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57
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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58
weir
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| n.堰堤，拦河坝 | |
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59
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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60
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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61
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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62
piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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63
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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64
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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65
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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66
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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67
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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68
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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69
manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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70
annexed
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| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
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71
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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72
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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73
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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74
authenticated
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| v.证明是真实的、可靠的或有效的( authenticate的过去式和过去分词 )；鉴定，使生效 | |
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75
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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76
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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77
notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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78
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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79
noxious
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| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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80
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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81
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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82
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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83
sustenance
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| n.食物，粮食；生活资料；生计 | |
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84
vegetarian
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| n.素食者；adj.素食的 | |
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85
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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86
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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87
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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88
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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89
shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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90
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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91
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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92
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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93
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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94
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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95
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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96
inorganic
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| adj.无生物的；无机的 | |
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97
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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98
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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99
deductions
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| 扣除( deduction的名词复数 )； 结论； 扣除的量； 推演 | |
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100
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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101
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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102
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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103
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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104
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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105
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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106
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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107
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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108
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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109
parable
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| n.寓言，比喻 | |
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110
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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111
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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112
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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113
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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114
addendum
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| n.补充，附录 | |
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115
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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116
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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117
forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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118
subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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119
tableaux
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| n.舞台造型，（由活人扮演的）静态画面、场面；人构成的画面或场景( tableau的名词复数 )；舞台造型；戏剧性的场面；绚丽的场景 | |
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120
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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121
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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122
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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123
pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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124
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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125
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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126
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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127
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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128
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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129
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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130
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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131
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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132
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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133
frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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134
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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135
postscript
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| n.附言，又及；(正文后的)补充说明 | |
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136
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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137
sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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138
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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139
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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140
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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141
idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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142
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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143
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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144
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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145
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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146
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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