当时我写信,麦克尔神父正处于健康的老年冬天。这种古老的时代似乎融入了第二个开花的青年,因为在他的皱纹的所有裂缝中,有些闪闪发光的闪闪发光的新鲜花的闪闪发光 - 春天的绿绿色甚至在2月的雪下都窥视。
(At the time I now write of, Father Mapple was in the hardy winter of a healthy old age; that sort of old age which seems merging into a second flowering youth, for among all the fissures of his wrinkles, there shone certain mild gleams of a newly developing bloom - the spring verdure peeping forth even beneath February's snow.)