The Japanese in no way resemble the ancient Romans in wanting a skeleton at the feast, or a skull crowned with roses and filled with wine. They never, as most Western nations do, even make their cemeteries into parks, where young lovers may wander, and mingle present hopes with past sorrows, sentiment with grief. Gardens are for contemplation, recreation, communion with Nature and one’s own soul, and into them death, except as it comes in the falling petal, the withered leaf, the flaming embers of the dying fires of the Maple, is not permitted to intrude.
I never saw a pet dog’s grave, or even that of one of their little friends the birds, in a Japanese garden, though I know of many such fondly loved spots, in stately as well as humble gardens, in my two homelands, America and England.
Stones which have a haphazard appearance, which fulfil no useful purpose, either as stepping-stones or in carrying out the design of the artist, are called ‘Poor Stones.’ They are treated with far scantier courtesy than are poor relations in this kind and pleasant land, for they are incontinently cast forth if they cannot be fitted into the family of rocks in the garden, or if they cannot be made to do their share towards its uses or pleasures.
There is never any Early Victorian profusion of unmeaning alleged ornament in these little
