IN THE COUNTRY
these cows and sheep; it’s a wonder they don’t get stolen. Good gracious, my boy, there isn’t a living soul to be seen here; 
only over there some one’s riding along on a bicycle, and here, look out, another one of those stinking motor-cars; my boy, doesn’t anyone do any work here?
It would be difficult to explain to my uncle the economic system of England; his hands would itch too much for the heavy plough-handle. The English countryside is not for work; it is for show. It is as green as a park and as immaculate as paradise. I sauntered along a grassy pathway in Surrey during
L.F.E.
81
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