ping Stones.’ From all over Japan the accredited varieties are gathered, and shipped to the makers of these little landscapes, and he commits an artistic crime who does not use the proper kinds in his composition. Then only careful and laborious cultivation and repression can grow the dwarf trees to plant in these gardens. It may take sixty years to attain the small Cherry trees that grace the temple scene, or thirty for the stunted Pines which adorn the rocky islet. No trouble is too great for the modeller in making these microscopic gardens as perfect as a full-sized one should be. Good artists plan them, and good artists make them, and good artists—the nation at large—criticize, admire, and love them when they are finished, and, what is more, take care of them, tend them, and value them as treasures for years afterwards.
So, even if I did not feel the same pleasure in these toy models of gardens that I did in the originals, I could not but admire and respect the careful and faithful work put into them, the labour that made the little as perfect in one way as the greater was in another, the fidelity to detail, the inspiration and breadth, the sincere and sound intention which turned a toy into a text-book, a pastime into a scientific pursuit.
