a deeper bronze and red-gold in the yellow, sulphur-tinged fluid. We spent many happy days sketching there, and grew so used to the Ashinoyu smell, and the soft feel of the water in the constant washings of hands and face which we pretended we had to undergo (it leaves the skin beautifully soft, as if made of velvet), that we quite missed the fumes of sulphur when we went back to Hakone.
The picture of the water garden at Nikko (facing page 50), with the little Kwannon figure carved in the stone, although in a private garden, is a typical bit of the scenery of temple grounds. And the Hydrangeas in the tea-garden at Kyoto (page 182), the Lotuses in the public gardens (page 222) and in the moat at Kofu (page 116), all give different phases of the use of water in landscape gardening in Japan. But the view which best represents the most complete type of water gardening is that of Nami-Kawa San’s garden, facing this page. The sense of space given by islands, rocks, and arching bridges, and of distance, secured by careful tree-planting, is well shown. Although I know the place intimately, and am aware that contented artist-craftsmen are at work on their cloisonné, in the rooms whose shoji are hidden by the trees in the background, I can hardly convince myself that the clear moving water and the overhanging trees do not go back a mile or so. A lovely place this was, exemplifying some of the best
