On one end was a large card, on which, written in large, bold letters, was the name of the proprietor, Henry Morton.
In five minutes the "express" got under way.

The road wound partly through the woods.

In some places the boughs, bending over from opposite sides, nearly met.

At present the branches were nearly destitute of leaves, and the landscape looked bleak.

But in the summer nothing could be more charming.
From his seat, beside Ajax, Henry Morton regarded attentively the prominent features of the landscape.