) 
THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 
gates are the best in these, and are especially lovely 
under light arches twined with rose or honeysuckle, or 
opening into arbors. A pretty gateway of this sort in 
an old Long Island town has a double-trellised arch 
overgrown with clematis, with a low, white-and-green 
gate and two seats just inside. Three stone steps lead 
up beyond these seats to a box-bordered path. 
A garden gate is different from a house door, and 
though opposing itself to undesired intrusion, it should 
nevertheless allow something of what it guards to be 
seen; a flash of color, a curving pathway, a vista of 
well-planted trees or sweep of lawn; a hint to the im¬ 
agination of each passer-by, in fact, a gift of beauty. 
For since nature is largely responsible for a garden, a 
little of the generosity of her rains and sunlight and 
secret forces should emanate from every true garden. 
And where more aptly than through the gate, built as 
it is to let the favored into all the cherished mysteries, 
should this gift come ? Build your walls to keep the 
world away, to insure you peace and seclusion. But 
let your gates mitigate this necessary severity. Make 
them beautiful as well as appropriate; and whether 
they are princely or humble, be content to allow some 
of your garden’s loveliness to escape through them to 
augment the general delight in what is lovely;—if it be 
no more than two pots of geranium or begonia set upon 
the posts, as is the fashion in some French villages, or 
a flowering shrub in the archway. 
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