It's all that, lad, the eyes of twenty white men never having been laid on it; still, twenty true-bred frontiersmen—hunters and trappers, and scouts, and the like,—can do a deal of mischief if they try.

Ho! Then you do your best, Lillie. No one could call you lily-livered!

a smooth, joltless ride

Making a couplement of proud compare, / With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, / With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare / That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.