The Grille Royale, now a simple wooden
gate between two pillars with vases, opens on the road from St. Germain to
Versailles, at the extremity of the Aqueduct of Marly. Passing this, one
finds oneself in an immense circular enclosure, the walls of which
surround the forest on every side.
The Village of Auteuil
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
[Footnote: From "Outre-Mer." Published by Houghton, Mifflin Co.]
The sultry heat of summer always brings with it, to the idler and the man
of leisure, a longing for the leafy shade and the green luxuriance of the
country. It is pleasant to interchange the din of the city, the movement
of the crowd, and the gossip of society, with the silence of the hamlet,
the quiet seclusion of the grove, and the gossip of a woodland brook.
It was a feeling of this kind that prompted me, during my residence in the
North of France, to pass one of the summer months at Auteuil, the
pleasantest of the many little villages that lie in the immediate vicinity
of the metropolis. It is situated on the outskirts of the Bois de
Boulogne, a wood of some extent, in whose green alleys the dusty city
enjoys the luxury of an evening drive, and gentlemen meet in the morning
to give each other satisfaction in the usual way.
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