attractive too, for often, with the ingenuity in simple mechanical contrivances which the Japanese are apt to show, the water is piped in picturesque bamboo instead of the ugly iron or lead pipes that we should use if we were doing it.
But contrast the whole washing arrangement—the beautifully formed basin; the daintily contrived pipes and drain; the well-shaped stepping-stone in front of it, on which to stand during the operation of ladling out water and throwing it over the head and hands; the delightful screen-fence of bamboo, with its graceful plant or young tree beside it—contrast these with what a workman or artisan in those we call civilized countries would have. He might perhaps indulge in a tin, or at the best an enamelled basin (the chances are in favour of a line or two of grime for interior decoration), with an ugly iron sink to receive the dirty water, and a fragment of yellow soap on a greasy half-saucer, as the last touch of beauty, beside him!
Water, and its æsthetic idea of moral as well as physical cleanliness, is most important to the Japanese, more particularly near temples. In these grounds the water-basin, according to the scale of the design, is of a size to correspond; so that it is sometimes really too large for its purpose. In such a case a ‘working model’ is put behind a screen for use, while the big and
