made of wood, like thatched houses, are seen, not more than eight or ten inches high, or small rough ones of stone, from one to two feet up from the ground.
While there are only two distinct classes of shape—the ‘Standard’ and the ‘Legged’ ones—so much variety is introduced into these that many appear to belong to totally different orders. And when I stop and think over some I know, I wonder where exactly they should be put. Certainly the ‘Valley’ shape, set up on its curved crane, like a big ‘C’ spring with a lamp-bowl atop, is neither a ‘Standard’ nor a ‘Legged’ lantern. Then there is the one Mr. Tyndale shows in the Ashinoyu garden (facing page 156), set on a granite ring, with a snow-scene top. Where ought that to go? If we say that the two classes are those with legs and those without, we gain nothing in our argument, for a ring is not a leg, nor is a crane—unless a crane might be said to be one crooked leg!
For temple gardens the ‘Standard’[1] is the favoured kind, more especially that known as the ‘Kasuga’ shape. This was named after a Shinto god whose main temple is at Nara, but he has serious rivals. The ‘Shiratayu’ design (named after a class of Shinto officials) is only slightly different in the decorations: the main lines are the same. A dozen more might be named of these architecturally severe and classic
- ↑ As in the picture facing page 60.
