Deep and painful suspense2 filled all hearts; until at night it was known that the enemy had been driven back and badly punished.
The history of "Seven Pines" is familiar to all. Some days previous, General Keyes' division had been thrown across the Chickahominy, for the purpose of feeling the Confederate lines and throwing up works that would secure the Federals that stream. The river, swelled3 by recent rains, rose so suddenly as to endanger Keyes' communications with his rear; and Johnston determined4 to attack, while he could thus strike in detail. The miscarriage5 of part of his plan—by which Huger's troops did not join the attack—and his own wound, by a piece of shell, late in the afternoon, alone prevented Johnston's utter destruction of this Federal corps6. As it was, the enemy was driven two miles back of his camp. Heavily re-enforced next day, he resisted and drove back a desperate attack about Fair Oaks.
Now, for the first time, the people of Richmond began to see the realities of war. When the firing began, many ladies were at work for the soldiers in the churches. These flocked to the doors, pale and anxious, but with a steady determination in their faces, vainly looked for in many of the men. Gradually wagons8 and ambulances began to come in; slowly at first, toward nightfall more rapidly—each one bearing some faint and suffering form. Then, and not till then, those women left their other work and tended the wounded men; giving "the little cup of water" so precious to them, speaking brave words of cheer while their very souls grew sick at the unwonted sight of blood and suffering.
One poor old man, dirty and ragged11, lay in a rough, springless cart; his hard, shoeless feet dropping out at its back, and his long, gray beard drenched12 in the blood that welled from his chest at every jolt13. By his side, in the gathering14 twilight15, walked one of Richmond's fairest daughters; her gentle voice smoothing the rough way to the hospital, and her soft hand wiping the damps from his forehead.
And there was no romance in it. He could not be conjured16 into a fair young knight—old, dirty, vulgar as he was. But he had fought for her—for the fair city she loved better than life—and the gayest rider in all that band were not more a hero to her!
Next morning the usual stillness of Sunday was broken by the renewed rattle17 of musketry—though farther off and less continuous than the day before; and by the more constant and nearer rumble18 of ambulance and dead cart. At dawn many of the townspeople had gone in buggies, wagons, and even the huge vans of the express companies, taking with them food and stimulants19, to aid the very limited ambulance corps of the army.
All day long the sad procession came in. Here a van with four or five desperately20 wounded stretched on its floor; now a buggy with a faint and bandaged form resting on the driver; again the jolting21 coal cart with the still, stiff figure, covered by the blanket and not needing the rigid22 upturned feet to tell the story. The hospitals were soon overcrowded; huge tobacco warehouses23 had been hastily fitted up and as hastily filled; while dozens of surgeons, bare-armed and bloody24, flitted through them, doing what man might to relieve the fearful havoc25 man had made.
Women of all ranks and of all ages crowded to them, too; some wan26 and haggard, seeking with tearless suspense the dear one they knew to have been stricken down; some bearing baskets of stimulants and nourishing food; but one and all eager and willing
"To do for those dear ones what woman
Alone in her pity can do."
The struggle had been brief but bitter. Most of the wounds were above the waist, for the fighting had been among undergrowth and partly against abatis; but the short-range volleys had mowed27 the men down by ranks. More warerooms and even stores on the Main street were opened, fitted with bunks28, and filled with the maimed and suffering.
At all hours, day and night, the passer down Main street would see through the open doors long, even rows of white bunks, each one bearing some form distorted with agony, or calmly passing away; while the tireless surgeon moved from cot to cot. And at the head of each a still, patient form, almost motionless, waved the ceaseless fan or breathed the low promise of the Living Word, to one who trembled on the verge29 of the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
The war was at the very gates now. These palpable witnesses were too numerous to doubt. But the lips of every gaping30 wound spoke31 an eloquent32 pledge that, while such as these kept watch and ward9, the city was safe.
Little by little the hospitals thinned; the slightly wounded went back to duty and the badly hurt began to hobble about. But on every hand were the gaunt, sad forms stretched on the narrow cots over which Life and Death wrestled33 for the mastery. And still the tireless love of woman watched by them—and still unworded prayers went up that the Destroyer might not prevail.
The stillness that followed "Seven Pines" was not unbroken. The armies were so near together that the least movement of either brought on a collision, and constant skirmishing went on. Not a day but had its miniature battle; and scarce an hour but added to the occupants of the hospitals. As these conflicts most frequently resulted in a Confederate success, they only served to encourage the people, and to bring them to the high pitch necessary for the prolonged note of war that was soon to sound so near them.
Just a month after the repulse34 of the iron-clads from Drewry's Bluff35, the bold and daring "Pamunkey Raid" still further aided in this effect. General J. E. B. Stuart had by his successful conduct of the cavalry36, no less than by his personal gallantry, worked his way from the colonelcy he held at Manassas to a major-generalcy of all that arm of the Virginia army. He had gained the confidence of General Lee and the greatest popularity in and out of the army; and, ably seconded by his brigadiers, "Jeb Stuart" was expected to do great deeds in the coming campaign.
Information being desired of the enemy on certain points, he volunteered to obtain it. With the advice and direction of the commanding-general, Stuart started from Richmond; made his reconnaissance; penetrated37 to the White House on the Pamunkey and burned the depot38 there; whipped the enemy's cavalry wherever he met them; and, making a complete circuit of the Federal rear, with all his captured men and horses, rode back into the city in triumph.
Whatever may be said of raids in the abstract, this was certainly a most dashing one; and was received with loud acclamation by army and people. The latter were by this time in better spirit to receive encouragement; and, dazzled by its brilliance39, rather than weighing its solid advantages, placed this achievement perhaps above the more useful success at Williamsburg.
Then came the news from the Valley.
That wonderful campaign—which far exceeds in strategic power, brilliant dash and great results any other combination of the war—had been fought and won! It has been justly compared, by a competent and eloquent critic, to Napoleon's campaign in Italy; and—paling all his other deeds—it clearly spoke Stonewall Jackson the Napoleon of the South.
Coolly looking back at its details, the thinker even now is struck with respectful wonder.
Hurling41 his little force against Front Royal; flashing to Winchester and routing Banks; slipping between the close converging42 lines of Fremont and Shields—just in time to avoid being crushed between them—and bearing with him miles of wagon7 train and spoils; turning on the pursuing columns of Fremont, driving him back, and then sweeping43 Shields from his path like chaff—Jackson clears his way and marches on for Richmond!
Still onward44, scarcely halting for food or rest—ever on to strike new terror when thought far away; weary, footsore—with scarcely one-half its former number, but flushed with victory and panting for further fame—the little band toils45 on, passes around Richmond and, just as the opposing cannon46 begin their last grim argument for her possession, hurl40 themselves like an Alpine47 torrent48 on the flank of the enemy!
The loss in this wonderful campaign was comparatively small, when we consider the rapidity of the movements; the terrible marches and the stubborn fighting against overwhelming numbers.
But there was one place vacant that none could fill. There was one name that brought the cloud to the brow of the giddiest youth, or the tear to the eye of the toughest veteran in those sturdy ranks; one name that stilled the song on the march and hushed the rough gossip of the bivouac to a saddened whisper. Turner Ashby was dead!
True knight—doughty leader—high-hearted gentleman—he had fallen when the fighting was well-nigh over—his devoir nobly done and his name as stainless49 as the bright blade he ever flashed foremost in the fight!
Chivalric—lion-hearted—strong armed—
"Well they learned, whose hands have slain50 him,
Braver, knightlier foe51
Never fought 'gainst Moor52 or Paynim—
Rode at Templestowe!"
All the country missed Ashby. But Virginia mourned him most; and among her stricken sons, those hard-handed, ragged heroes of Jackson's Old Guard—who had marched the furthest and fought the hardest following him—were the chiefest mourners. Jackson had reared a noble monument, to be viewed from all the dimmest vistas53 of the future. But the fair column was shattered near its top; and the laurel leaves that twined it were mingled54 with evergreen55 cypress56.
Then the strained suspense was broken. On the 26th of June began that memorable57 series of fights that northern and southern history—voluminous reports of generals and detailed58 accounts of newspapers, have made familiar to all who care to read of battles.
A. P. Hill's steady attack at Mechanicsville, though at great cost, drove the enemy's right wing back; to be struck next morning on the flank by Jackson and sent, after a sullen59 and bloody resistance, to the works near Gaines' Mill. Still on the barefooted boys press with resistless rush, leaving dead or mangled60 brothers and writhing61 foemen in their gory62 track! Never pausing to look back, but each successive day driving the enemy at the bayonet's point from works frowning with cannon.
Cold Harbor has told its brilliant story. Frasier's Farm is fought and won!
With ranks fearfully thinned, scant64 of food and pausing not to rest, the struggling men press on—ever on! Weary and faltering65 on the march, the first sharp crack of the rifle lights a new fire in every eye; and drinking the hot breath of the battle,
"Stalwart, they court like Anak's sons
The rapture66 of the fight!"
The tide of the battle swung round and the retreating army of McClellan—fighting steadily67 by day and retreating noiselessly in the night—fronted from the city which now lay on its left flank.
The Federals were neither demoralized, nor panic struck, as has been sometimes believed; and such an error, while it has bloody refutation in the nameless graves that make the track of these fights precious to the southron—does less than justice to the constancy and enduring valor68 of the little army that wrung69 the victory from them at such fearful cost.
Their retreat was orderly and steady. Driven each day from works on which they relied—marking their path with untold70 destruction of munitions71, supplies and even of food on which they depended—the soldiers of the North were well held together; never refusing to turn and face the resistless foe that hurled72 itself against them, careless alike of cannon and steel, weariness and death!
There can be little doubt now of the consummate73 tact74 of McClellan's retreat. It is the bright page in the northern annals of strategy. Beaten each day and driven from his well-chosen strongholds—clearly chosen with a view to such necessities—he still held his army thoroughly75 in his grasp and carried it off in such order as no Federal force had yet preserved in the face of retreat. Only the resistless impetuosity of the southern troops drove all before them; and though careful analysis may prove in theory that, but for the blunder of a subordinate, Lee could one day have utterly76 destroyed him, this fact should not detract, in the impartial77 mind, from the great ability of McClellan which really prevented it.
Still, up to the last bloody day at Malvern Hill, the city lay open to the Federal general had he known the truth. Between him and the coveted78 prize was a mere79 handful of men, who could have offered but slight resistance to his overwhelming numbers; the main army of defense80 was in his front, further away than many points of his retreat; and, had he fully63 understood the position, a bold and dashing stroke of generalship might have turned the scale, spite of all the red successes of southern arms. More than once in the "Seven Days" a rapid march by the flank would have put McClellan in possession of the Capital and secured him in its strong defenses; from which the wearied troops of Lee could scarcely have ejected him.
But it was not to be. When the shattered and torn Confederates drew off, like lions at bay, from the horrid81 slopes of Malvern Hill—leaving them drenched with priceless blood and piled thick with near one-third their number—McClellan declined further battle and withdrew his beaten army to the fleet.
He had made a great retreat. But he had lost his great stake.
When the armies lay at Mechanicsville, both were plainly visible from many points in the city. From the Capitol, miles of encampment could be seen, spreading out like a map; and in the dusk the red flash of each gun and the fiery82 trail of its fatal messenger were painfully distinct. The evening before Hill's advance, the poet-librarian of the Capitol was pointing out the localities to a company of officers and ladies. Among them was a lady who had suffered much in the flesh and been driven from her home for brave exertions83 in that cause, which was in the end to leave her widowed spirit with no hope on this side of the narrow house. A terrific thunderstorm had just passed over the hostile hosts; but the dense84 masses of cloud had rolled away to the river, leaving it in deep shadow, while a bright reflection from the sunset wrapped both camps in a veil of mellow85 light. Not a shot disturbed the still peacefulness of the scene, to give token of the wild work already shaped out for the next week. Suddenly a glorious rainbow shaped itself in the transparent86 mist over the Confederate camp, spanning it from end to end. The lady pointed87 it to the poet.
"I hail the omen10!" she said. "It is a token of God's promise that yonder flood will not overwhelm us! That His hand will be raised as of old, to hurl it back from His chosen people!"
And when the omen was accomplished88 and Richmond was safe, the poet sent the lady those classic lines so well-known in the South—"The Battle Rainbow."
Next afternoon the great fight began. The sharp, quick rattle of small arms, and the dull incessant89 boom of artillery told of hot work even nearer than "Seven Pines." So sharp and clear were the reports that it seemed the fight must be on the very edge of town; and the windows rattled90 at every discharge.
Almost every man, worthy91 of the name, was at the front; but the brave and steadfast92 women of Richmond collected in groups and—while they listened with blanched93 faces and throbbing94 hearts—still tried to cheer and comfort each other.
They spoke of the past; of their faith in the flower of the South at that moment battling for them; and they heard the sound of the cannon growing farther and fainter, only to feel more loving trust in those who, under God, had saved them from that chiefest of ills!
Day by day, as the tide of battle surged farther off, it sent into Richmond cheering news that nerved afresh these brave hearts for the horror to come. Gaines' Mill, Cold Harbor and Frasier's Farm rolled back their echoes of triumph; news came of the strait into which McClellan was driven and that one day more must see him a prisoner in the city he had dared—his splendid host swept away and destroyed. Finally the news of Malvern Hill—the wild shout of battle scarce drowning the death-cry—sent a thrill of mingled agony and pride to their very heart's core.
But day by day, as the red tide rolled back, it swept into Richmond terrible fragments of the wreck95 it had made. Every conveyance96 that could follow the army, or could be pressed from the almost stripped country around it, bore in from the River Road its load of misery97. Manassas had hinted the slaughter98 of a great fight; Seven Pines had sketched99 all the hard outlines of the picture; but the Seven Days put in the dismal100 shadows, with every variation of grotesque101 horror.
In the dearth102 of transportation and the hurry of onward movement, many had been left for days with stiffening103 wounds on the field, or roadside. Others had undergone the loss of limbs at field hospitals; some were bent104 and distorted in their agony; and again the stiff, set jaw105 and wide, glassy eye, told that the journey was over before the end was reached.
The chain of regular hospitals and even the temporary one—nearly emptied since Seven Pines—now rapidly filled and overflowed106. Private houses swung wide their doors and took in wounded men—brothers alike if gentle-blooded Louisianian, or hard-handed mountainmen—and the women, one and all, wrought107 as if their energies had never before been taxed or even tested.
But a black shadow had come and brooded deep over Richmond. Half the gentle forms gliding108 noiselessly among the suffering were draped in black; and many a pale face was saddened with an anguish109 deeper than furrowed110 those resting on the coarse pillows around.
The fight was won. The enemy that had for months flaunted111 his victorious112 flag in full sight of the Capitol was baffled and beaten. New glories had clustered round the flag of the South; new quarrels and doubts had been sent to the North. Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, the Hills and Hood113 had added fresh laurels114 to brows believed to have room for no leaf more. Almost every officer had proved himself worthy of the prayers of such women as the South owned—of that even higher glory of leading such troops as fought to defend them.
But at what awful cost had all this been bought! The slaughter of their nearest and dearest had been terrific: women, the highest and lowliest, met by the cot of the sufferer; and, in the free masonry115 of love, tended the living and comforted each other for their dead.
But through the brave endeavor of their sacred office, these noble sisters of mercy showed no yielding to the claims of self. Over their own sorrows they rose triumphant—tended the faint—cheered the despondent—filling the place of wife and mother to those who should nevermore see home—even while
"The air is filled with farewells to the dying
And wailings for the dead;
The voice of Rachel for her children crying
Can not be comforted."
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1
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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2
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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3
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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miscarriage
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| n.失败，未达到预期的结果；流产 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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8
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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9
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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11
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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12
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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13
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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15
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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17
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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stimulants
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| n.兴奋剂( stimulant的名词复数 )；含兴奋剂的饮料；刺激物；激励物 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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mowed
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| v.刈，割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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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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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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34
repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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35
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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42
converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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toils
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| 网 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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54
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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55
evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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57
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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60
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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61
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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62
gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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63
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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66
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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68
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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69
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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untold
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| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
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71
munitions
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| n.军火，弹药；v.供应…军需品 | |
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72
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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73
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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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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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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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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85
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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88
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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90
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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98
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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99
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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100
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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101
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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102
dearth
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| n.缺乏，粮食不足，饥谨 | |
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103
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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104
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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105
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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106
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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107
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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108
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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109
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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110
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
flaunted
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| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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112
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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113
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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114
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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115
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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