"The gateway opening on the lane had once been filled with fine ironwork, but now a common wooden field gate leaned between the square stone piers. This broken-down gate and the dirty cattle-track it crossed seemed like a coarse satire on the two battered but dignified stone monsters which flanked it, each on his secular perch; each looking out over the country below with an air of haughty dominion, unconscious that the shield he superintended had been removed, and that he had absolutely nothing behind him. Ridiculous yet venerable creatures! They had much in common with the small country aristocracy to whom they owed their existence."
from A Village Tragedy by Margaret L. Woods (Chapter II)
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