.... Life in the country may be compared to the aimless drifting of a
house-dog professing to busy himself about a lawn. He goes nosing
about, tacking and turning here and there with the most intense
apparent earnestness; and finally seizes a blade of grass by the
middle, chews it savagely, drops it; gags comically, and curls away to
sleep as if worn out with some mighty exercise. Whatever pursuit you
may engage in in the country is sure to end in nausea, which you are
quite as sure to try to get recognised as fatigue.