If any one chanced to have a ring or pretty buckle, it was a relic of former times.
There were no carriages, for there were no roads.

The narrow trail they traversed in single file was generally a mere horse-path, often so contracted in width that two horses could not pass along abreast.

As they marched along in straggling line, with shouts and jokes, and with the interchange of many gallant acts of rustic love-making between the coquettish maidens and the awkward swains, they encountered frequent obstacles on the way.

It was a part of the frolic for the young men to throw obstructions in their path, and thus to create surprises.

There were brooks to be forded.