There was a painless stage of incubation that lasted twenty-five years, and then it broke out on me, and people said I was It.
But they called it humor instead of measles1.
The employees in the store bought a silver inkstand for the senior partner on his fiftieth birthday. We crowded into his private office to present it. I had been selected for spokesman, and I made a little speech that I had been preparing for a week.
It made a hit. It was full of puns and epigrams and funny twists that brought down the house--which was a very solid one in the wholesale3 hardware line. Old Marlowe himself actually grinned, and the employees took their cue and roared.
My reputation as a humorist dates from half-past nine o'clock on that morning. For weeks afterward5 my fellow clerks fanned the flame of my self-esteem. One by one they came to me, saying what an awfully7 clever speech that was, old man, and carefully explained to me the point of each one of my jokes.
Gradually I found that I was expected to keep it up. Others might speak sanely8 on business matters and the day's topics, but from me something gamesome and airy was required.
I was expected to crack jokes about the crockery and lighten up the granite9 ware4 with persiflage10. I was second bookkeeper, and if I failed to show up a balance sheet without something comic about the footings or could find no cause for laughter in an invoice11 of plows12, the other clerks were disappointed. By degrees my fame spread, and I became a local "character." Our town was small enough to make this possible. The daily newspaper quoted me. At social gatherings14 I was indispensable.
I believe I did possess considerable wit and a facility for quick and spontaneous repartee15. This gift I cultivated and improved by practice. And the nature of it was kindly16 and genial17, not running to sarcasm18 or offending others. People began to smile when they saw me coming, and by the time we had met I generally had the word ready to broaden the smile into a laugh.
I had married early. We had a charming boy of three and a girl of five. Naturally, we lived in a vine-covered cottage, and were happy. My salary as bookkeeper in the hardware concern kept at a distance those ills attendant upon superfluous19 wealth.
At sundry20 times I had written out a few jokes and conceits21 that I considered peculiarly happy, and had sent them to certain periodicals that print such things. All of them had been instantly accepted. Several of the editors had written to request further contributions.
One day I received a letter from the editor of a famous weekly publication. He suggested that I submit to him a humorous composition to fill a column of space; hinting that he would make it a regular feature of each issue if the work proved satisfactory. I did so, and at the end of two weeks he offered to make a contract with me for a year at a figure that was considerably22 higher than the amount paid me by the hardware firm.
I was filled with delight. My wife already crowned me in her mind with the imperishable evergreens23 of literary success. We had lobster24 croquettes and a bottle of blackberry wine for supper that night. Here was the chance to liberate25 myself from drudgery26. I talked over the matter very seriously with Louisa. We agreed that I must resign my place at the store and devote myself to humor.
I resigned. My fellow clerks gave me a farewell banquet. The speech I made there coruscated27. It was printed in full by the Gazette. The next morning I awoke and looked at the clock.
"Late, by George!" I exclaimed, and grabbed for my clothes. Louisa reminded me that I was no longer a slave to hardware and contractors28' supplies. I was now a professional humorist.
After breakfast she proudly led me to the little room off the kitchen. Dear girl! There was my table and chair, writing pad, ink, and pipe tray. And all the author's trappings--the celery stand full of fresh roses and honeysuckle, last year's calendar on the wall, the dictionary, and a little bag of chocolates to nibble29 between inspirations. Dear girl!
I sat me to work. The wall paper is patterned with arabesques30 or odalisks or--perhaps--it is trapezoids. Upon one of the figures I fixed31 my eyes. I bethought me of humor.
A voice startled me--Louisa's voice.
"If you aren't too busy, dear," it said, "come to dinner."
I looked at my watch. Yes, five hours had been gathered in by the grim scytheman. I went to dinner.
"You mustn't work too hard at first," said Louisa. "Goethe--or was it Napoleon?--said five hours a day is enough for mental labor32. Couldn't you take me and the children to the woods this afternoon?"
"I am a little tired," I admitted. So we went to the woods.
But I soon got the swing of it. Within a month I was turning out copy as regular as shipments of hardware.
And I had success. My column in the weekly made some stir, and I was referred to in a gossipy way by the critics as something fresh in the line of humorists. I augmented33 my income considerably by contributing to other publications.
I picked up the tricks of the trade. I could take a funny idea and make a two-line joke of it, earning a dollar. With false whiskers on, it would serve up cold as a quatrain, doubling its producing value. By turning the skirt and adding a ruffle34 of rhyme you would hardly recognize it as vers de societe with neatly35 shod feet and a fashion-plate illustration.
I began to save up money, and we had new carpets, and a parlor36 organ. My townspeople began to look upon me as a citizen of some consequence instead of the merry trifier I had been when I clerked in the hardware store.
After five or six months the spontaniety seemed to depart from my humor. Quips and droll37 sayings no longer fell carelessly from my lips. I was sometimes hard run for material. I found myself listening to catch available ideas from the conversation of my friends. Sometimes I chewed my pencil and gazed at the wall paper for hours trying to build up some gay little bubble of unstudied fun.
And then I became a harpy, a Moloch, a Jonah, a vampire38, to my acquaintances. Anxious, haggard, greedy, I stood among them like a veritable killjoy. Let a bright saying, a witty40 comparison, a piquant41 phrase fall from their lips and I was after it like a hound springing upon a bone. I dared not trust my memory; but, turning aside guiltily and meanly, I would make a note of it in my ever-present memorandum42 book or upon my cuff43 for my own future use.
My friends regarded me in sorrow and wonder. I was not the same man. Where once I had furnished them entertainment and jollity, I now preyed44 upon them. No jests from me ever bid for their smiles now. They were too precious. I could not afford to dispense45 gratuitously46 the means of my livelihood47.
I was a lugubrious48 fox praising the singing of my friends, the crow's, that they might drop from their beaks49 the morsels50 of wit that I coveted51.
Nearly every one began to avoid me. I even forgot how to smile, not even paying that much for the sayings I appropriated.
No persons, places, times, or subjects were exempt52 from my plundering53 in search of material. Even in church my demoralized fancy went hunting among the solemn aisles54 and pillars for spoil.
Did the minister give out the long-meter doxology, at once I began: "Doxology --sockdology--sockdolager--meter--meet her."
The sermon ran through my mental sieve55, its precepts56 filtering unheeded, could I but glean57 a suggestion of a pun or a bon mot. The solemnest anthems58 of the choir59 were but an accompaniment to my thoughts as I conceived new changes to ring upon the ancient comicalities concerning the jealousies60 of soprano, tenor61, and basso.
My own home became a hunting ground. My wife is a singularly feminine creature, candid62, sympathetic, and impulsive63. Once her conversation was my delight, and her ideas a source of unfailing pleasure. Now I worked her. She was a gold mine of those amusing but lovable inconsistencies that distinguish the female mind.
I began to market those pearls of unwisdom and humor that should have enriched only the sacred precincts of home. With devilish cunning I encouraged her to talk. Unsuspecting, she laid her heart bare. Upon the cold, conspicuous64, common, printed page I offered it to the public gaze.
A literary Judas, I kissed her and betrayed her. For pieces of silver I dressed her sweet confidences in the pantalettes and frills of folly65 and made them dance in the market place.
Dear Louisa! Of nights I have bent66 over her cruel as a wolf above a tender lamb, hearkening even to her soft words murmured in sleep, hoping to catch an idea for my next day's grind. There is worse to come.
God help me! Next my fangs67 were buried deep in the neck of the fugitive68 sayings of my little children.
Guy and Viola were two bright fountains of childish, quaint39 thoughts and speeches. I found a ready sale for this kind of humor, and was furnishing a regular department in a magazine with "Funny Fancies of Childhood." I began to stalk them as an Indian stalks the antelope69. I would hide behind sofas and doors, or crawl on my hands and knees among the bushes in the yard to eavesdrop70 while they were at play. I had all the qualities of a harpy except remorse71.
Once, when I was barren of ideas, and my copy must leave in the next mail, I covered myself in a pile of autumn leaves in the yard, where I knew they intended to come to play. I cannot bring myself to believe that Guy was aware of my hiding place, but even if he was, I would be loath72 to blame him for his setting fire to the leaves, causing the destruction of my new suit of clothes, and nearly cremating73 a parent.
Soon my own children began to shun74 me as a pest. Often, when I was creeping upon them like a melancholy75 ghoul, I would hear them say to each other: "Here comes papa," and they would gather their toys and scurry76 away to some safer hiding place. Miserable77 wretch78 that I was!
And yet I was doing well financially. Before the first year had passed I had saved a thousand dollars, and we had lived in comfort.
But at what a cost! I am not quite clear as to what a pariah79 is, but I was everything that it sounds like. I had no friends, no amusements, no enjoyment80 of life. The happiness of my family had been sacrificed. I was a bee, sucking sordid81 honey from life's fairest flowers, dreaded82 and shunned83 on account of my stingo.
One day a man spoke2 to me, with a pleasant and friendly smile. Not in months had the thing happened. I was passing the undertaking84 establishment of Peter Heffelbower. Peter stood in the door and saluted85 me. I stopped, strangely wrung86 in my heart by his greeting. He asked me inside.
The day was chill and rainy. We went into the back room, where a fire burned, in a little stove. A customer came, and Peter left me alone for a while. Presently I felt a new feeling stealing over me --a sense of beautiful calm and content, I looked around the place. There were rows of shining rosewood caskets, black palls87, trestles, hearse plumes88, mourning streamers, and all the paraphernalia90 of the solemn trade. Here was peace, order, silence, the abode91 of grave and dignified92 reflections. Here, on the brink93 of life, was a little niche94 pervaded95 by the spirit of eternal rest.
When I entered it, the follies96 of the world abandoned me at the door. I felt no inclination97 to wrest98 a humorous idea from those sombre and stately trappings. My mind seemed to stretch itself to grateful repose99 upon a couch draped with gentle thoughts.
A quarter of an hour ago I was an abandoned humorist. Now I was a philosopher, full of serenity100 and ease. I had found a refuge from humor, from the hot chase of the shy quip, from the degrading pursuit of the panting joke, from the restless reach after the nimble repartee.
I had not known Heffelbower well. When he came back, I let him talk, fearful that he might prove to be a jarring note in the sweet, dirgelike harmony of his establishment.
But, no. He chimed truly. I gave a long sigh of happiness. Never have I known a man's talk to be as magnificently dull as Peter's was. Compared with it the Dead Sea is a geyser. Never a sparkle or a glimmer101 of wit marred102 his words. Commonplaces as trite103 and as plentiful104 as blackberries flowed from his lips no more stirring in quality than a last week's tape running from a ticker. Quaking a little, I tried upon him one of my best pointed13 jokes. It fell back ineffectual, with the point broken. I loved that man from then on.
Two or three evenings each week I would steal down to Heffelbower's and revel105 in his back room. That was my only joy. I began to rise early and hurry through my work, that I might spend more time in my haven106. In no other place could I throw off my habit of extracting humorous ideas from my surroundings. Peter's talk left me no opening had I besieged107 it ever so hard.
Under this influence I began to improve in spirits. It was the recreation from one's labor which every man needs. I surprised one or two of my former friends by throwing them a smile and a cheery word as I passed them on the streets. Several times I dumfounded my family by relaxing long enough to make a jocose108 remark in their presence.
I had so long been ridden by the incubus109 of humor that I seized my hours of holiday with a schoolboy's zest110.
Mv work began to suffer. It was not the pain and burden to me that it had been. I often whistled at my desk, and wrote with far more fluency111 than before. I accomplished112 my tasks impatiently, as anxious to be off to my helpful retreat as a drunkard is to get to his tavern113.
My wife had some anxious hours in conjecturing114 where I spent my afternoons. I thought it best not to tell her; women do not understand these things. Poor girl!--she had one shock out of it.
One day I brought home a silver coffin115 handle for a paper weight and a fine, fluffy116 hearse plume89 to dust my papers with.
I loved to see them on my desk, and think of the beloved back room down at Heffelbower's. But Louisa found them, and she shrieked117 with horror. I had to console her with some lame6 excuse for having them, but I saw in her eyes that the prejudice was not removed. I had to remove the articles, though, at double-quick time.
One day Peter Heffelbower laid before me a temptation that swept me off my feet. In his sensible, uninspired way he showed me his books, and explained that his profits and his business were increasing rapidly. He had thought of taking in a partner with some cash. He would rather have me than any one he knew. When I left his place that afternoon Peter had my check for the thousand dollars I had in the bank, and I was a partner in his undertaking business.
I went home with feelings of delirious118 joy, mingled119 with a certain amount of doubt. I was dreading120 to tell my wife about it. But I walked on air. To give up the writing of humorous stuff, once more to enjoy the apples of life, instead of squeezing them to a pulp121 for a few drops of hard cider to make the pubic feel funny--what a boon122 that would be!
At the supper table Louisa handed me some letters that had come during my absence. Several of them contained rejected manuscript. Ever since I first began going to Heffelbower's my stuff had been coming back with alarming frequency. Lately I had been dashing off my jokes and articles with the greatest fluency. Previously123 I had labored124 like a bricklayer, slowly and with agony.
Presently I opened a letter from the editor of the weekly with which I had a regular contract. The checks for that weekly article were still our main dependence125. The letter ran thus:
DEAR SIR:
As you are aware, our contract for the year expires with the present month. While regretting the necessity for so doing, we must say that we do not care to renew same for the coming year. We were quite pleased with your style of humor, which seems to have delighted quite a large proportion of our readers. But for the past two months we have noticed a decided126 falling off in its quality. Your earlier work showed a spontaneous, easy, natural flow of fun and wit. Of late it is labored, studied, and unconvincing, giving painful evidence of hard toil127 and drudging mechanism128.
Again regretting that we do not consider your contributions available any longer, we are, yours sincerely,THE EDITOR.
I handed this letter to my wife. After she had read it her face grew extremely long, and there were tears in her eyes.
"The mean old thing!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I'm sure your pieces are just as good as they ever were. And it doesn't take you half as long to write them as it did." And then, I suppose, Louisa thought of the checks that would cease coming. "Oh, John," she wailed129, "what will you do now?"
For an answer I got up and began to do a polka step around the supper table. I am sure Louisa thought the trouble had driven me mad; and I think the children hoped it had, for they tore after me, yelling with glee and emulating130 my steps. I was now something like their old playmate as of yore.
"The theatre for us to-night!" I shouted; "nothing less. And a late, wild, disreputable supper for all of us at the Palace Restaurant. Lumpty-diddle-de-dee-de-dum!"
And then I explained my glee by declaring that I was now a partner in a prosperous undertaking establishment, and that written jokes might go hide their heads in sackcloth and ashes for all me.
With the editor's letter in her hand to justify131 the deed I had done, my wife could advance no objections save a few mild ones based on the feminine inability to appreciate a good thing such as the little back room of Peter Hef--no, of Heffelbower & Co's. undertaking establishment.
In conclusion, I will say that to-day you will find no man in our town as well liked, as jovial132, and full of merry sayings as I. My jokes are again noised about and quoted; once more I take pleasure in my wife's confidential133 chatter134 without a mercenary thought, while Guy and Viola play at my feet distributing gems135 of childish humor without fear of the ghastly tormentor136 who used to dog their steps, notebook in hand.
Our business has prospered137 finely. I keep the books and look after the shop, while Peter attends to outside matters. He says that my levity138 and high spirits would simply turn any funeral into a regular Irish wake.
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measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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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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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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sanely
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| ad.神志清楚地 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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persiflage
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| n.戏弄；挖苦 | |
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invoice
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| vt.开发票；n.发票，装货清单 | |
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plows
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| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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conceits
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| 高傲( conceit的名词复数 )； 自以为； 巧妙的词语； 别出心裁的比喻 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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liberate
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| v.解放，使获得自由，释出，放出；vt.解放，使获自由 | |
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drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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coruscated
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| v.闪光，闪烁( coruscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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contractors
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| n.（建筑、监造中的）承包人( contractor的名词复数 ) | |
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nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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arabesques
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| 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） | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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labor
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| 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 | |
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Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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ruffle
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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vampire
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| n.吸血鬼 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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preyed
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| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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gratuitously
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| 平白 | |
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livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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beaks
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| n.鸟嘴( beak的名词复数 )；鹰钩嘴；尖鼻子；掌权者 | |
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morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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51
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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exempt
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| adj.免除的；v.使免除；n.免税者，被免除义务者 | |
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plundering
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的现在分词 ) | |
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54
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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56
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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57
glean
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| v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
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58
anthems
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| n.赞美诗( anthem的名词复数 )；圣歌；赞歌；颂歌 | |
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59
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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60
jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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61
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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62
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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63
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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64
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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65
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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66
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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67
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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68
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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69
antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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70
eavesdrop
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| v.偷听，倾听 | |
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71
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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72
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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73
cremating
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| v.火葬，火化（尸体）( cremate的现在分词 ) | |
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74
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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75
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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76
scurry
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| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
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77
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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78
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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79
pariah
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| n.被社会抛弃者 | |
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80
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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81
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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82
dreaded
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| 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) | |
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83
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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85
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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86
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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87
palls
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| n.柩衣( pall的名词复数 )；墓衣；棺罩；深色或厚重的覆盖物v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的第三人称单数 ) | |
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88
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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89
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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90
paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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91
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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92
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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93
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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94
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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95
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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97
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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98
wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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99
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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100
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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101
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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102
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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103
trite
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| adj.陈腐的 | |
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104
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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105
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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106
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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107
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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109
incubus
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| n.负担；恶梦 | |
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110
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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111
fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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112
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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113
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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114
conjecturing
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| v. & n. 推测，臆测 | |
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115
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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116
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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117
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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119
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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120
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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121
pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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122
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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123
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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124
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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125
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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126
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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127
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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128
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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129
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
emulating
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的现在分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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131
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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132
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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133
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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134
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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135
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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136
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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137
prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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138
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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