章节正文
name o' her youngest an' they do say her favourut brother - hum oz
died by hus own hond all through the munuster's mustake un no
registerun' the new church ot Dublin. Ut was a lesson thot the
name was musfortunate, but she would no take ut, an' there was talk
when she called her first child Samuel - hum thot died o' the
croup. An' wuth thot what does she do but call the next one
Samuel, an' hum only three when he fell un tull the tub o' hot
watter an' was plain cooked tull death. Ut all come, I tell you,
o' her wucked-headed an' foolush stubbornness. For a Samuel she
must hov; an' ut was the death of the four of her sons. After the
first, dudna her own mother go down un the dirt tull her feet, a-
beggun' an' pleadun' wuth her no tull name her next one Samuel?
But she was no tull be turned from her purpose. Margaret Henan was
always set on her ways, an' never more so thon on thot name Samuel.
"She was fair lunatuc on Samuel. Dudna her neighbours' an' all
kuth an' kun savun' them thot luv'd un the house wuth her, get up
an' walk out ot the christenun' of the second - hum thot was
cooked? Thot they dud, an' ot the very moment the munuster asked
what would the bairn's name be. 'Samuel,' says she; an' wuth thot
they got up an' walked out an' left the house. An' ot the door
dudna her Aunt Fannie, her mother's suster, turn an' say loud for
all tull hear: 'What for wull she be wantun' tull murder the wee
thing?' The munuster heard fine, an' dudna like ut, but, oz he
told my Larry afterward, what could he do? Ut was the woman's
wush, an' there was no law again' a mother callun' her child
accordun' tull her wush.
"An' then was there no the third Samuel? An' when he was lost ot
sea off the Cape, dudna she break all laws o' nature tull hov a
fourth? She was forty-seven, I'm tellun' ye, an' she hod a child
ot forty-seven. Thunk on ut! Ot forty-seven! Ut was fair
scand'lous."
From Clara, next morning, I got the tale of Margaret Henan's
favourite brother; and from here and there, in the week that
followed, I pieced together the tragedy of Margaret Henan. Samuel
Dundee had been the youngest of Margaret's four brothers, and, as
Clara told me, she had well-nigh worshipped him. He was going to
sea at the time, skipper of one of the sailing ships of the Bank
Line, when he married Agnes Hewitt. She was described as a slender
wisp of a girl, delicately featured and with a nervous organization
of the supersensitive order. Theirs had been the first marriage in
the "new" church, and after a two-weeks' honeymoon Samuel had
kissed his bride good-bye and sailed in command of the Loughbank, a
big four-masted barque.
And it was because of the "new" church that the minister's blunder
occurred. Nor was it the blunder of the minister alone, as one of
the elders later explained; for it was equally the blunder of the
whole Presbytery of Coughleen, which included fifteen churches on
Island McGill and the mainland. The old church, beyond repair, had
been torn down and the new one built on the original foundation.
Looking upon the foundation-stones as similar to a ship's keel, it
never entered the minister's nor the Presbytery's head that the new
church was legally any other than the old church.
"An' three couples was married the first week un the new church,"
Clara said. "First of all, Samuel Dundee an' Agnes Hewitt; the
next day Albert Mahan an' Minnie Duncan; an' by the week-end Eddie
Troy and Flo Mackintosh - all sailor-men, an' un sux weeks' time
the last of them back tull their ships an' awa', an' no one o' them
dreamin' of the wuckedness they'd been ot."
The Imp of the Perverse must have chuckled at the situation. All
things favoured. The marriages had taken place in the first week
of May, and it was not till three months later that the minister,
as required by law, made his quarterly report to the civil
authorities in Dublin. Promptly came back the announcement that
his church had no legal existence, not being registered according
to the law's demands. This was overcome by prompt registration;
but the marriages were not to be so easily remedied. The three
sailor husbands were away, and their wives, in short, were not
their wives.
"But the munuster was no for alarmin' the bodies," said Clara. "He
kept hus council an' bided hus time, waitun' for the lods tull be
back from sea. Oz luck would have ut, he was away across the
island tull a christenun' when Albert Mahan arrives home
onexpected, hus shup just docked ot Dublin. Ut's nine o'clock ot
night when the munuster, un hus sluppers an' dressun'-gown, gets
the news. Up he jumps an' calls for horse an' saddle, an' awa' he
goes like the wund for Albert Mahan's. Albert uz just goun' tull
bed an' hoz one shoe off when the munuster arrives.
"'Come wuth me, the pair o' ye,' says he, breathless-like. 'What
for, an' me dead weary an' goun' tull bed?' says Albert. 'Yull be
lawful married,' says the munuster. Albert looks black an' says,
'Now, munuster, ye wull be jokun',' but tull humself, oz I've heard
hum tell mony a time, he uz wonderun' thot the munuster should a-
took tull whusky ot hus time o' life.
"'We be no married?' says Minnie. He shook his head. 'An' I om no
Mussus Mahan?' 'No,' says he, 'ye are no Mussus Mahan. Ye are
plain Muss Duncan.' 'But ye married 'us yoursel',' says she. 'I
dud an' I dudna,' says he. An' wuth thot he tells them the whole
upshot, an' Albert puts on hus shoe, an' they go wuth the munuster
an' are married proper an' lawful, an' oz Albert Mahan says
afterward mony's the time, ''Tus no every mon thot hoz two weddun'
nights on Island McGill.'"
Six months later Eddie Troy came home and was promptly" target="_blank" title="ad.敏捷地；即时地">promptly remarried.
But Samuel Dundee was away on a three-years' voyage and his ship
fell overdue. Further to complicate the situation, a baby boy,
past two years old, was waiting for him in the arms of his wife.
The months passed, and the wife grew thin with worrying. "Ut's no
meself I'm thunkun' on," she is reported to have said many times,
"but ut's the puir fatherless bairn. Uf aught happened tull Samuel
where wull the bairn stond?"
Lloyd's posted the Loughbank as missing, and the owners ceased the
monthly remittance of Samuel's half-pay to his wife. It was the
question of the child's legitimacy that preyed on her mind, and,
when all hope of Samuel's return was abandoned, she drowned herself
and the child in the loch. And here enters the greater tragedy.
The Loughbank was not lost. By a series of sea disasters and
delays too interminable to relate, she had made one of those long,
unsighted passages such as occur once or twice in half a century.
How the Imp must have held both his sides! Back from the sea came
Samuel, and when they broke the news to him something else broke
somewhere in his heart or head. Next morning they found him where
he had tried to kill himself across the grave of his wife and
child. Never in the history of Island McGill was there so fearful
a death-bed. He spat in the minister's face and reviled him, and
died blaspheming so terribly that those that tended on him did so
with averted gaze and trembling hands.
And, in the face of all this, Margaret Henan named her first child
Samuel.
How account for the woman's stubbornness? Or was it a morbid
obsession that demanded a child of hers should be named Samuel?
Her third child was a girl, named after herself, and the fourth was
a boy again. Despite the strokes of fate that had already bereft
her, and despite the loss of friends and relatives, she persisted
in her resolve to name the child after her brother. She was
shunned at church by those who had grown up with her. Her mother,
after a final appeal, left her house with the warning that if the
child were so named she would never speak to her again. And though
the old lady lived thirty-odd years longer she kept her word. The
minister agreed to christen the child any name but Samuel, and
every other minister on Island McGill refused to christen it by the
name she had chosen. There was talk on the part of Margaret Henan
of going to law at the time, but in the end she carried the child
to Belfast and there had it christened Samuel.
And then nothing happened. The whole island was confuted. The boy
grew and prospered. The schoolmaster never ceased averring that it
was the brightest lad he had ever seen. Samuel had a splendid
constitution, a tremendous grip on life. To everybody's amazement
he escaped the usual run of childish afflictions. Measles,
whooping-cough and mumps knew him not. He was armour-clad against
germs, immune to all disease. Headaches and earaches were things
unknown. "Never so much oz a boil or a pumple," as one of the old
bodies told me, ever marred his healthy skin. He broke school
records in scholarship and athletics, and whipped every boy of his
size or years on Island McGill.
It was a triumph for Margaret Henan. This paragon was hers, and it
bore the cherished name. With the one exception of her mother,
friends and relatives drifted back and acknowledged that they had
been mistaken; though there were old crones who still abided by
their opinion and who shook their heads ominously over their cups
of tea. The boy was too wonderful to last. There was no escaping
the curse of the name his mother had wickedly laid upon him. The
young generation joined Margaret Henan in laughing at them, but the
old crones continued to shake their heads.
Other children followed. Margaret Henan's fifth was a boy, whom
she called Jamie, and in rapid succession followed three girls,
Alice, Sara, and Nora, the boy Timothy, and two more girls,
Florence and Katie. Katie was the last and eleventh, and Margaret
Henan, at thirty-five, ceased from her exertions. She had done
well by Island McGill and the Queen. Nine healthy children were
hers. All prospered. It seemed her ill-luck had shot its bolt
with the deaths of her first two. Nine lived, and one of them was
named Samuel.
Jamie elected to follow the sea, though it was not so much a matter
of election as compulsion, for the eldest sons on Island McGill
remained on the land, while all other sons went to the salt-
ploughing. Timothy followed Jamie, and by the time the latter had
got his first command, a steamer in the Bay trade out of Cardiff,
Timothy was mate of a big sailing ship. Samuel, however, did not
take kindly to the soil. The farmer's life had no attraction for
him. His brothers went to sea, not out of desire, but because it
was the only way for them to gain their bread; and he, who had no
need to go, envied them when, returned from far voyages, they sat
by the kitchen fire, and told their bold tales of the wonderlands
beyond the sea-rim.
Samuel became a teacher, much to his father's disgust, and even
took extra certificates, going to Belfast for his examinations.
When the old master retired, Samuel took over his school.
Secretly, however, he studiednavigation, and it was Margaret's
delight when he sat by the kitchen fire, and, despite their
master's tickets, tangled up his brothers in the theoretics of
their profession. Tom Henan alone was outraged when Samuel, school
teacher, gentleman, and heir to the Henan farm, shipped to sea
before the mast. Margaret had an abiding faith in her son's star,
and whatever he did she was sure was for the best. Like everything
else connected with his gloriouspersonality, there had never been
known so swift a rise as in the case of Samuel. Barely with two
years' sea experience before the mast, he was taken from the
forecastle and made a provisional second mate. This occurred in a
fever port on the West Coast, and the committee of skippers that
examined him agreed that he knew more of the science of navigation
than they had remembered or forgotten. Two years later he sailed
from Liverpool, mate of the Starry Grace, with both master's and
extra-master's tickets in his possession. And then it happened -
the thing the old crones had been shaking their heads over for
years.
It was told me by Gavin McNab, bos'n of the Starry Grace at the
time, himself an Island McGill man.
"Wull do I remember ut," he said. "We was runnin' our Eastun'
down, an' makun' heavy weather of ut. Oz fine a sailor-mon oz ever
walked was Samuel Henan. I remember the look of hum wull thot last
marnun', a-watch-un' them bug seas curlun' up astern, an' a-
watchun' the old girl an' seeun' how she took them - the skupper
died by hus own hond all through the munuster's mustake un no
registerun' the new church ot Dublin. Ut was a lesson thot the
name was musfortunate, but she would no take ut, an' there was talk
when she called her first child Samuel - hum thot died o' the
croup. An' wuth thot what does she do but call the next one
Samuel, an' hum only three when he fell un tull the tub o' hot
watter an' was plain cooked tull death. Ut all come, I tell you,
o' her wucked-headed an' foolush stubbornness. For a Samuel she
must hov; an' ut was the death of the four of her sons. After the
first, dudna her own mother go down un the dirt tull her feet, a-
beggun' an' pleadun' wuth her no tull name her next one Samuel?
But she was no tull be turned from her purpose. Margaret Henan was
always set on her ways, an' never more so thon on thot name Samuel.
"She was fair lunatuc on Samuel. Dudna her neighbours' an' all
kuth an' kun savun' them thot luv'd un the house wuth her, get up
an' walk out ot the christenun' of the second - hum thot was
cooked? Thot they dud, an' ot the very moment the munuster asked
what would the bairn's name be. 'Samuel,' says she; an' wuth thot
they got up an' walked out an' left the house. An' ot the door
dudna her Aunt Fannie, her mother's suster, turn an' say loud for
all tull hear: 'What for wull she be wantun' tull murder the wee
thing?' The munuster heard fine, an' dudna like ut, but, oz he
told my Larry afterward, what could he do? Ut was the woman's
wush, an' there was no law again' a mother callun' her child
accordun' tull her wush.
"An' then was there no the third Samuel? An' when he was lost ot
sea off the Cape, dudna she break all laws o' nature tull hov a
fourth? She was forty-seven, I'm tellun' ye, an' she hod a child
ot forty-seven. Thunk on ut! Ot forty-seven! Ut was fair
scand'lous."
From Clara, next morning, I got the tale of Margaret Henan's
favourite brother; and from here and there, in the week that
followed, I pieced together the tragedy of Margaret Henan. Samuel
Dundee had been the youngest of Margaret's four brothers, and, as
Clara told me, she had well-nigh worshipped him. He was going to
sea at the time, skipper of one of the sailing ships of the Bank
Line, when he married Agnes Hewitt. She was described as a slender
wisp of a girl, delicately featured and with a nervous organization
of the supersensitive order. Theirs had been the first marriage in
the "new" church, and after a two-weeks' honeymoon Samuel had
kissed his bride good-bye and sailed in command of the Loughbank, a
big four-masted barque.
And it was because of the "new" church that the minister's blunder
occurred. Nor was it the blunder of the minister alone, as one of
the elders later explained; for it was equally the blunder of the
whole Presbytery of Coughleen, which included fifteen churches on
Island McGill and the mainland. The old church, beyond repair, had
been torn down and the new one built on the original foundation.
Looking upon the foundation-stones as similar to a ship's keel, it
never entered the minister's nor the Presbytery's head that the new
church was legally any other than the old church.
"An' three couples was married the first week un the new church,"
Clara said. "First of all, Samuel Dundee an' Agnes Hewitt; the
next day Albert Mahan an' Minnie Duncan; an' by the week-end Eddie
Troy and Flo Mackintosh - all sailor-men, an' un sux weeks' time
the last of them back tull their ships an' awa', an' no one o' them
dreamin' of the wuckedness they'd been ot."
The Imp of the Perverse must have chuckled at the situation. All
things favoured. The marriages had taken place in the first week
of May, and it was not till three months later that the minister,
as required by law, made his quarterly report to the civil
authorities in Dublin. Promptly came back the announcement that
his church had no legal existence, not being registered according
to the law's demands. This was overcome by prompt registration;
but the marriages were not to be so easily remedied. The three
sailor husbands were away, and their wives, in short, were not
their wives.
"But the munuster was no for alarmin' the bodies," said Clara. "He
kept hus council an' bided hus time, waitun' for the lods tull be
back from sea. Oz luck would have ut, he was away across the
island tull a christenun' when Albert Mahan arrives home
onexpected, hus shup just docked ot Dublin. Ut's nine o'clock ot
night when the munuster, un hus sluppers an' dressun'-gown, gets
the news. Up he jumps an' calls for horse an' saddle, an' awa' he
goes like the wund for Albert Mahan's. Albert uz just goun' tull
bed an' hoz one shoe off when the munuster arrives.
"'Come wuth me, the pair o' ye,' says he, breathless-like. 'What
for, an' me dead weary an' goun' tull bed?' says Albert. 'Yull be
lawful married,' says the munuster. Albert looks black an' says,
'Now, munuster, ye wull be jokun',' but tull humself, oz I've heard
hum tell mony a time, he uz wonderun' thot the munuster should a-
took tull whusky ot hus time o' life.
"'We be no married?' says Minnie. He shook his head. 'An' I om no
Mussus Mahan?' 'No,' says he, 'ye are no Mussus Mahan. Ye are
plain Muss Duncan.' 'But ye married 'us yoursel',' says she. 'I
dud an' I dudna,' says he. An' wuth thot he tells them the whole
upshot, an' Albert puts on hus shoe, an' they go wuth the munuster
an' are married proper an' lawful, an' oz Albert Mahan says
afterward mony's the time, ''Tus no every mon thot hoz two weddun'
nights on Island McGill.'"
Six months later Eddie Troy came home and was promptly" target="_blank" title="ad.敏捷地；即时地">promptly remarried.
But Samuel Dundee was away on a three-years' voyage and his ship
fell overdue. Further to complicate the situation, a baby boy,
past two years old, was waiting for him in the arms of his wife.
The months passed, and the wife grew thin with worrying. "Ut's no
meself I'm thunkun' on," she is reported to have said many times,
"but ut's the puir fatherless bairn. Uf aught happened tull Samuel
where wull the bairn stond?"
Lloyd's posted the Loughbank as missing, and the owners ceased the
monthly remittance of Samuel's half-pay to his wife. It was the
question of the child's legitimacy that preyed on her mind, and,
when all hope of Samuel's return was abandoned, she drowned herself
and the child in the loch. And here enters the greater tragedy.
The Loughbank was not lost. By a series of sea disasters and
delays too interminable to relate, she had made one of those long,
unsighted passages such as occur once or twice in half a century.
How the Imp must have held both his sides! Back from the sea came
Samuel, and when they broke the news to him something else broke
somewhere in his heart or head. Next morning they found him where
he had tried to kill himself across the grave of his wife and
child. Never in the history of Island McGill was there so fearful
a death-bed. He spat in the minister's face and reviled him, and
died blaspheming so terribly that those that tended on him did so
with averted gaze and trembling hands.
And, in the face of all this, Margaret Henan named her first child
Samuel.
How account for the woman's stubbornness? Or was it a morbid
obsession that demanded a child of hers should be named Samuel?
Her third child was a girl, named after herself, and the fourth was
a boy again. Despite the strokes of fate that had already bereft
her, and despite the loss of friends and relatives, she persisted
in her resolve to name the child after her brother. She was
shunned at church by those who had grown up with her. Her mother,
after a final appeal, left her house with the warning that if the
child were so named she would never speak to her again. And though
the old lady lived thirty-odd years longer she kept her word. The
minister agreed to christen the child any name but Samuel, and
every other minister on Island McGill refused to christen it by the
name she had chosen. There was talk on the part of Margaret Henan
of going to law at the time, but in the end she carried the child
to Belfast and there had it christened Samuel.
And then nothing happened. The whole island was confuted. The boy
grew and prospered. The schoolmaster never ceased averring that it
was the brightest lad he had ever seen. Samuel had a splendid
constitution, a tremendous grip on life. To everybody's amazement
he escaped the usual run of childish afflictions. Measles,
whooping-cough and mumps knew him not. He was armour-clad against
germs, immune to all disease. Headaches and earaches were things
unknown. "Never so much oz a boil or a pumple," as one of the old
bodies told me, ever marred his healthy skin. He broke school
records in scholarship and athletics, and whipped every boy of his
size or years on Island McGill.
It was a triumph for Margaret Henan. This paragon was hers, and it
bore the cherished name. With the one exception of her mother,
friends and relatives drifted back and acknowledged that they had
been mistaken; though there were old crones who still abided by
their opinion and who shook their heads ominously over their cups
of tea. The boy was too wonderful to last. There was no escaping
the curse of the name his mother had wickedly laid upon him. The
young generation joined Margaret Henan in laughing at them, but the
old crones continued to shake their heads.
Other children followed. Margaret Henan's fifth was a boy, whom
she called Jamie, and in rapid succession followed three girls,
Alice, Sara, and Nora, the boy Timothy, and two more girls,
Florence and Katie. Katie was the last and eleventh, and Margaret
Henan, at thirty-five, ceased from her exertions. She had done
well by Island McGill and the Queen. Nine healthy children were
hers. All prospered. It seemed her ill-luck had shot its bolt
with the deaths of her first two. Nine lived, and one of them was
named Samuel.
Jamie elected to follow the sea, though it was not so much a matter
of election as compulsion, for the eldest sons on Island McGill
remained on the land, while all other sons went to the salt-
ploughing. Timothy followed Jamie, and by the time the latter had
got his first command, a steamer in the Bay trade out of Cardiff,
Timothy was mate of a big sailing ship. Samuel, however, did not
take kindly to the soil. The farmer's life had no attraction for
him. His brothers went to sea, not out of desire, but because it
was the only way for them to gain their bread; and he, who had no
need to go, envied them when, returned from far voyages, they sat
by the kitchen fire, and told their bold tales of the wonderlands
beyond the sea-rim.
Samuel became a teacher, much to his father's disgust, and even
took extra certificates, going to Belfast for his examinations.
When the old master retired, Samuel took over his school.
Secretly, however, he studiednavigation, and it was Margaret's
delight when he sat by the kitchen fire, and, despite their
master's tickets, tangled up his brothers in the theoretics of
their profession. Tom Henan alone was outraged when Samuel, school
teacher, gentleman, and heir to the Henan farm, shipped to sea
before the mast. Margaret had an abiding faith in her son's star,
and whatever he did she was sure was for the best. Like everything
else connected with his gloriouspersonality, there had never been
known so swift a rise as in the case of Samuel. Barely with two
years' sea experience before the mast, he was taken from the
forecastle and made a provisional second mate. This occurred in a
fever port on the West Coast, and the committee of skippers that
examined him agreed that he knew more of the science of navigation
than they had remembered or forgotten. Two years later he sailed
from Liverpool, mate of the Starry Grace, with both master's and
extra-master's tickets in his possession. And then it happened -
the thing the old crones had been shaking their heads over for
years.
It was told me by Gavin McNab, bos'n of the Starry Grace at the
time, himself an Island McGill man.
"Wull do I remember ut," he said. "We was runnin' our Eastun'
down, an' makun' heavy weather of ut. Oz fine a sailor-mon oz ever
walked was Samuel Henan. I remember the look of hum wull thot last
marnun', a-watch-un' them bug seas curlun' up astern, an' a-
watchun' the old girl an' seeun' how she took them - the skupper
- tragedy [´trædʒidi]
n.悲剧；惨案；灾难 (初中英语单词) - nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- minister [´ministə] n.部长；大臣 v.伺候 (初中英语单词)
- equally [´i:kwəli] ad.相等地；平等地 (初中英语单词)
- repair [ri´peə] v.&n.修理，修补 (初中英语单词)
- promptly [´prɔmptli] ad.敏捷地；即时地 (初中英语单词)
- existence [ig´zistəns] n.存在；生存；生活 (初中英语单词)
- overcome [,əuvə´kʌm] vt.战胜，克服 (初中英语单词)
- saddle [´sædl] n.鞍子 v.装鞍(于) (初中英语单词)
- voyage [´vɔi-idʒ] n.&vi.航海；航程；旅行 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- missing [´misiŋ] a.缺掉的；失踪的 (初中英语单词)
- series [´siəri:z] n.连续；系列；丛书 (初中英语单词)
- relate [ri´leit] v.阐明；使联系；涉及 (初中英语单词)
- terribly [´terəbli] ad.可怕地 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- despite [di´spait] prep.尽管 (初中英语单词)
- resolve [ri´zɔlv] v.决心 n.决心；刚毅 (初中英语单词)
- tremendous [tri´mendəs] a.可怕的；巨大的 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- healthy [´helθi] a.健康的 (初中英语单词)
- triumph [´traiəmf] n.胜利 vi.得胜，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- exception [ik´sepʃən] n.例外；反对，异议 (初中英语单词)
- generation [,dʒenə´reiʃən] n.发生；世代；同龄人 (初中英语单词)
- succession [sək´seʃən] n.继任；继承(权) (初中英语单词)
- election [i´lekʃən] n.选举；选择 (初中英语单词)
- steamer [´sti:mə] n.汽船；轮船；蒸笼 (初中英语单词)
- disgust [dis´gʌst] n.厌恶 vt.令(人)作呕 (初中英语单词)
- profession [prə´feʃən] n.职业；声明；表白 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- glorious [´glɔ:riəs] a.光荣的；辉煌的 (初中英语单词)
- personality [,pə:sə´næliti] n.人；个性；人品；人物 (初中英语单词)
- barely [´beəli] ad.公开地；仅仅 (初中英语单词)
- theirs [ðeəz] pron.他们的 (高中英语单词)
- blunder [´blʌndə] n.&v.(犯)大错；疏忽 (高中英语单词)
- announcement [ə´naunsmənt] n.通告；宣布；言谈 (高中英语单词)
- prompt [prɔmpt] a.敏捷的 vt.促使 (高中英语单词)
- appeal [ə´pi:l] vi.&n.请求；呼吁；上诉 (高中英语单词)
- mistaken [mis´teikən] mistake的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- eldest [´eldist] a.最年长的 (高中英语单词)
- attraction [ə´trækʃən] n.吸引(力)；引力 (高中英语单词)
- studied [´stʌdid] a.故意的；有计划的 (高中英语单词)
- navigation [,nævi´geiʃən] n.航行；航空；导航 (高中英语单词)
- skipper [´skipə] n.&vi.(当)船长 (英语四级单词)
- delicately [´delikitli] ad.精美地；微妙地 (英语四级单词)
- honeymoon [´hʌnimu:n] n.蜜月 (英语四级单词)
- mainland [´meinlənd] n.大陆；本土 (英语四级单词)
- favoured [´feivəd] a.有利的，喜爱的 (英语四级单词)
- lawful [´lɔ:fəl] a.合法的，守法的 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- schoolmaster [´sku:l,mɑ:stə] n.教练；(男)教师 (英语四级单词)
- scholarship [´skɔləʃip, ´skɑlər-] n.学术成就；学问 (英语四级单词)
- athletics [æθ´letiks] n.体育(运动)；竞技 (英语四级单词)
- liverpool [´livəpu:l] n.利物浦 (英语四级单词)
- starry [´stɑ:ri] a.星光照耀的，闪亮的 (英语四级单词)
- dublin [´dʌblin] n.都柏林 (英语六级单词)
- legally [´li:gəli] ad.合法地 (英语六级单词)
- abandoned [ə´bændənd] a.被抛弃的；无约束的 (英语六级单词)
- interminable [in´tə:minəbəl] a.无终止的；冗长的 (英语六级单词)
- christen [´krisən] vt.为...施洗礼 (英语六级单词)
- compulsion [kəm´pʌlʃ(ə)n] n.强制；强迫 (英语六级单词)
- retired [ri´taiəd] a.退休的；通职的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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