when it was nothing but a little wind toy fluttering tags of metal and hung somewhere in the trees, which, added to the belief that there ought to be water somewhere about, deceived me.
These imitations of dry-water scenery are not, as one might think, meretricious stage effects that need something more than even an Elizabethan imagination to make them real. Japan, although, I am sure, blessed with more streams and springs, rivers and pools than any other country of her size in the world, yet abounds in natural dried-up scenery also. The artist goes to Nature to study his subject, and carries out his picture as thoroughly as though danger might ensue from the fluid of his mind if all care were not taken properly to embed the rocks, and to disperse the stones about, in the design that is to suggest his water. Even bridges, of wood or of stone, cross this dry bed of the lake to the islands, or are thrown over—as the children call it—the ‘pretending’ stream. Sometimes blackened stones are laid in the centre. When these are smooth, and reflect the light, the resemblance to water is very striking. But this is an unworthy trick, and is not considered good art; for it succeeds by deception, not by a justifiable appeal to the imagination.
If in flat enclosures, such as tea-gardens, no water or indication of water is seen, then more
