THE COUNTRY YARD 



walk and other appointments is restful. Hori- 

 zontal lines in a picture or a landscape give a 

 sense of space, yet of repose, while upright lines 

 are excitant — the precipices of Yosemite, for 

 extreme examples. Still, it is more from con- 

 ditions than from forms that we derive tranquil- 

 ity. There are moods, to be sure, in which one 

 becomes impervious to disturbing suggestions of 

 the city, when we are in the thick of it; when the 

 sun pours serenity from the sky, and the hardness 

 that so often assails our ears and eyes passes out 

 of a world that has ceased to be substance and 

 has become aspect. Our grounds comfort us by 

 the induction of these moods. In them we find 

 the Interest and rest which differentiate the home 

 from other parts of earth. 



The ground of a country place should have a 

 seeming tranquility, signifying that It Is a refuge 

 from the storms of life: hence. In laying It off 

 there should be no building up or digging down, 

 without a better reason than precedent. It Is a 

 practise in some suburban settlements to place the 

 house on an artificial knoll or terrace two or three 

 feet high. This, I dare say. Is a survival of the 

 custom of banking a house with earth, on the 

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