I have ridden from Worcester by byroads day and night, and I am fairly spent.
The road—like all the other byroads, merely a horse-track—crosses the stream by a bold arch.
Just then a gig emerged from one of these byroads, and took the same direction as the pedestrian.
No one in these days, who has not seen the byroads of fifty years ago, can imagine what they were.
It was nearly twenty miles, by the byroads by which they travelled, and the morning was just breaking as they arrived there.
Now I propose that we take the next lane which branches off to the right, and travel by byroads in future.