line. The builders are all artists, to whose instincts
repetition would do violence. The quaint roofs, although formed in
straight lines, seem to rise and fall in gentle undulations. There is
nothing abrupt or rugged; nothing jars. And the colours are as varied as
the roofs. In the upper reaches of the rivers the scenes never cease to
charm. Clusters of half a dozen boats forming a mass of decorative
woodwork, tea-houses with tiny gardens running down to the water's edge
and gaily-dressed geishas leaning over the trellised verandahs, light
bridges thrown in graceful outline against the purple horizon,--all
combine to complete a picture as broad as a study by Rembrandt, as
infinite in detail as a masterpiece by Hobbema.

THE GARDENS

CHAPTER VI

THE GARDENS

It is not easy to describe the fascination of a Japanese garden. Chiefly
it is due to studied neglect of geometrical design. The toy
summer-houses dotted here and there, the miniature lakes, and the tiny
bridges crossing miniature streams, give an air of indescribable
quaintness. Yet, in spite of the smallness of the dimensions, the first
impression is one of vastness. "Who discovers that nothingness is
law--such a one hath wisdom," says the old Buddhist text. That is the
wisdom the Japanese gardener seeks, for he also is an artist. There is
no one point on which the eye fastens, and the absence of any striking
feature creates a sense of immensity. It is a broad scheme, just as
broad as a picture by Velasquez would be, and of infinite detail. It is
only accidentally that one discovers the illusion--the triumph of art
over space. I saw a dog walk over one of the tiny bridges, and it seemed
of enormous height, so that I was staggered at its bulk in proportion to
the garden; yet it was but an animal of ordinary size.

[Illustration: AN IRIS GARDEN]

A Japanese gardener spends his whole life in studying his trade, and
just as earnestly and just as comprehensively as a doctor would study
medicine. I was once struck by seeing a little man sitting on a box
outside a silk-store on a bald plot of ground. For three consecutive
days I saw this little man sitting on the same little box, for ever
smiling and knocking out the ash from his miniature pipe. All day long
he sat there, never moving, never talking--he seemed to be doing nothing
but smoking and dreaming. On the third day I pointed this little man out
to the merchant who owned the store, and asked wh