a view, or a surprise of some pleasant sort, somewhere along the route; therefore they place this path of stones as Nature herself would, never straight, but with the winds and curves and twists a river might take. Some stones are large and some are small, but all are of a height, so as to avoid any unevenness of tread which might cause feet to stumble; but perhaps you can take two steps, or even three or four, on a big flat stone, and then, for the next two or three smaller stones, only one step on each. They are not put close together, however, and never are cemented to make a regular pavement, but enough space is left between to enable the favourite Japanese pastime of cleaning to be fully indulged in. All this apparent irregularity, although fully worked out beforehand, gives these stepping-stones the most delightful air of having been thrown down a few minutes before you came, so that you need not wet your feet when you go out to look at the Irises slowly unfurling their delicate flags, or to watch the goldfish in the little pond, as the children throw them food. It is the perennially interesting thing about a Japanese garden that it seems as if, like Topsy, it had ‘just growed.’
But, however casual they may appear, these stones invariably serve a purpose, and that purpose is usually shown in the nomenclature. The ‘Step-dividing Stones’ at the branching
