"I would not paint a face

Or rocks or streams or trees-
Mere semblances of things-
But something more than these.

'I would not play a tune
Upon the sheng or lute
Which did not also sing
Meanings that else were mute.

"That art is best which gives

To the soul's range no bound; Something besides the form, Something beyond the sound."

structure in a formal garden for the sake of harmony as is often felt to be a necessity with us. Geometrical terraces, parterres, straight paths, and straight arrangements of trees are almost never seen.

The influence of China upon the gardens of Japan is still seen in the names of famous lakes, mountains, and waterfalls of the Flowery Kingdom reproduced in Japanese garden designs. The Japanese garden, besides reproducing natural scenery, was governed in its substance and arrangement by curious symbolic ideas of religion, philosophy, and superstition, ideas of luck and ill luck, male and female attributes applied to

Villa and mountain garden.

As some one has said of the Japanese garden, it expresses "a mood of nature and also a mood of man."

The Japanese system of gardening was derived in the sixth century, with Japan's general culture, from China, but through the centuries following was modified to a certain extent by the native spirit of the Japanese. The underlying principles were the same. A garden should be a quiet retreat for meditation, reflecting the tastes of the owner and expressing the moods and emotions that he prefers. In Japan the gardens often reproduce on a small scale famous natural scenery celebrated in history, poetry, and story. With their low, rambling, unsymmetrical houses there is not the same need for the re

The sound of water in the garden.

the stones, rocks, trees, and waterfalls, occult reasons for the relation of the points of the compass to the lay of the garden, positions of buildings, and direction of flow of streams and lakes. The chief components of a typical Japanese garden are stones, stone lanterns, pagodas, water basins for rinsing the hands, ornamental water, with islands, well-heads, bridges, arbors, and trees, and shrubs irregularly though harmoniously

arranged. Sanded and gravel spaces lie between the stones and plantations, though turf has lately been introduced, following Western methods. The stones, all named, classified, and symbolical, are employed in immense variety. These stones, with the stone lanterns, are characteristically Japanese and not employed in Chinese gardens. They were the additions made by Japan to the old gardens of the East, and are, in fact, the skeleton of the Japanese garden. Often it would seem that the skeleton is too evident, too little embellished with vegetation, to please our Western eyes. The Japanese are in the habit of clipping and shearing and surgically shaping trees, especially the native pine, bending, breaking, and bandaging them with splints and cords, in order to create a conventional decorative design conforming to their natural fundamental qualities as exhibited. under stress of age and storm.

The Chinese method of gardening was described in great detail by Sir William Chambers, a distinguished architect of the eigh

sure you that a winter garden is a garden under glass, though Bacon foreshadowed the winter garden in his essay, and both Addison and Wordsworth have left us descriptions of the winter gardens they had made. He goes on to describe the summer scenes as the richest and most studied parts of their

teenth century, who had visited China at least once, and perhaps several times, and who was responsible, with Chippendale, for the introduction of the Chinoiseries of that period into England. Chambers has sometimes been alluded to as extravagant, even mendacious, in his descriptions of Oriental gardens, but some credence is certainly to be given to his elaborations. Perhaps his reputation, like that of Marco Polo, is only temporarily under a cloud. He tells of their winter gardens, so little known to us in the West that any landscape architect will as

gardens. They abound with ornamental water of every kind. In the centre of these summer plantations there is generally a large tract of ground laid out in close walks and colonnades, with many intricate windings to confuse and lead the passer astray. These are separated by thickets of underwood, intermingled with large trees, or by clumps of high rose-trees and other lofty towering shrubs.

"The whole

is a wilderness of sweets adorned with all sorts of fragrant and gaudy productions. There are gold and silver pheasants, peacocks, partridges, bantam hens, quail, doves, nightingales, deer, antelope, etc." Every walk leads to some delightful object, to groves of orange and myrtle, to rivulets whose banks are clad with roses, woodbine, and jessamine.

This description of Chambers's indicates a large tract of land, and we know that large parks and gardens were common among the Chinese even in the time of Mencius, who was contemporary with Plato, for in the works of Mencius it is written:

"The King of Ts'e asked: 'Was it so that the garden of King Wan contained seventy square li?' (A li is one-third of a mile.)

"Mencius replied: 'It is so in the rec

ords.'

"Was it so large as that?' exclaimed the King.

"The people,' said Mencius, 'still looked on it as small.'

'The King added: 'My garden contains only forty square li, and the people still look on it as large. How is this?'

"The garden of King Wan,' was the reply, 'contained seventy square li, but the grass-cutters and fuelgatherers had the privilege of entrance into it; so also had the catchers of pheasants and hares. He shared it with the people, and was it not with reason that they looked on it as small?""

Later the Sung dynasty (960-1277 A. D.) was distinguished for its vast and luxurious gardens, and it is said that in the Sung capital alone (Kinsay or Hangchow) there were a thousand gardens of enormous size.

We have still later the descriptions of the great parks of Kublai Khan at Xanadu, and Cambaluc (Pekin) by Marco Polo.

harmony with the rest of his grounds a mountain scene, a cascade, a lotus lake with the three Elysian islands, or a bit of wild seashore. He would build therein arbors, or summer-houses, where the best views could be enjoyed secure from sun and storm. Sometimes the rockeries representing mountains in miniature were as high as one hundred or even two hundred feet. Many-storied stone towers or pagodas were an essential part of the Chinese garden, and these have persisted in the gardens of the Japanese since they took over their landscape art from China by way of Corea. The Japanese call them Corean towers. The Chinese preferred meandering paths to straight, formal ones, and solid, enduring stone bridges where these paths led across brooks or streams. They were expert stone-masons, as is shown by some of their indestructible bridges over wide rivers and the five hundred leagues of the Great Wall. Their favorite garden bridge was the socalled full-moon bridge, a semicircular arch of stone, the shadow of which in the water makes a complete circle suggesting the full moon. Though sometimes there were elaboration and magnificence in arbor, bridge, pagoda, wall, fence, gateway, and exotic planting, the usual aim of the landscape-gardener was simplicity and restraint, with little architectural formality, a close imitation of nature, to the end that the garden might be a quiet retreat for meditation and contemplation and thus attune the mood of man to the mood of the spirit of the earth.

We thus see that for millenniums the Chinese have been great gardeners. The profusion of their flora and the beauty and grandeur of their "mountain-water" scenery were the environment in which grew a racial mind which flowered in arts filled with poetry, religion, and philosophy. Serenity of soul, meditation on the problems of life and conduct, contemplation of the mountains, rivers, waterfalls, trees, flowers, and stars these were the spiritual elements that entered into the creation of a garden. Thus in provinces remote from some wonderful natural picture that had made a memorable impression upon the mind, the builder of the garden would sometimes reproduce in

FREDERICK PETERSON.

LORD

ORD KITCHENER'S famous assertion of 1914 was not that this war would be ended in three years, but that the English people might as well make up their minds for a war at least as long as that. His prophecy has Kitchener's already been fulfilled, and the Prophecy Fulfilled curious but not unusual phenomenon has lately been witnessed, of the very oracles who insisted, three years ago, that economic exhaustion would end the conflict in a twelvemonth, now busily engaged in explaining how the war may continue two to six years longer. Such a prediction ought to be received with as much reserve as we now know was merited by the prediction of 1914.

No war for a century past has outlasted its fourth year; the reason being, not as a rule that one side reached the actual limit of its resources, but that the other side had by that time learned how to utilize superior resources for a decisive victory. Of the much longer periods covered by the Napoleonic wars, and by such self-descriptive conflicts as the Seven Years' War, the Thirty Years' War, and, much farther back in modern history, the Hundred Years' War between England and France, it is to be remarked that each of these was made up of a series of wars, with intervals of armistices or purely desultory fighting, rather than a cont continued campaign such as that which began three years ago.

Perhaps the fact that Kitchener's tentative three-year term had been completed has colored the numerous retrospects and forecasts which were given out by military or political experts at the end of the past July. The cheerful view set forth by the Allied spokesmen was embodied in the statement of the British director of military operations, that

Germany, whose whole military gospel was to prosecute a vigorous offensive, is reduced to a state of military helplessness in which she is barely able to hang on, in the hope that her submarines will force the people of the Entente Powers to demand peace." It was emphasized by the French minister of war, in his contrast of the host of new allies secured by France and England with the feeble alliances and ruined commerce left to Germany.

But even the most hopeful prophet on general principles failed to say just what would end the war, and how. There was the possibility of mutual peace negotiations, and in this direction Germany continued so insistent as to suggest inevitably which side was suffering the most from war. But Germany still refused to name her terms of peace. The Reichstag's resolution for peace and "lasting reconciliation," for the rejection of "forced acquisitions of territory," and for "the creation of international juridical organizations," was translated by the new German Chancellor into a declaration for such a peace as would be concluded by "combatants who have successfully accomplished their purpose and proved themselves invincible."

both shoulders-by a bureaucrat of no known opinions except devotion to the crown, the situation was left precisely where it was before. German newspapers which reflect the court's opinion have taken up the word again that even to Belgium, the political liberty, which was struck down by the German invasion, must not be restored.

Nevertheless, as regards the actual view of Germany as a combatant who had "successfully accomplished its purpose," there remained, of this curious episode, the Kaiser's own autograph declaration, in his note accepting Bethmann-Hollweg's resignation, that these are "the most grievous times that have ever fallen to the lot of the German countries and people." The enemy, declared the Kaiser in his proclamation of August 1, "wish to see us weak and powerless at their feet," but "we shall fight for our existence."

This point of view, on the part of the potentate whose frequent public references to the chances of war, three years ago, were based exclusively on the certainty of German success and the sure co-operation of the Almighty with their armies, is itself a sign of the times which we sometimes overlook. It certainly has a curious resemblance to the view-point of a bullying aggressor in private life who has misjudged his intended victim, missed his blow, and who now, with his own back to the wall, bewails his hard fortune and cries out that the other man began the fight.

Quite aside from this, we may yet hear again from the German people during the fourth year of the war. There is, indeed, an interesting and by no means remote possibility that the coming twelvemonth may be marked, as no preceding period of the war has been, by assertion of the popular will in controlling and overruling autocracy. It appears to be an open diplomatic secret that the new Austrian Emperor, recognizing the desperate longing of his subjects for peace and enlarged political liberty, is already virtually at odds with Imperial Berlin.

Much has been said, both in and out of Germany, as to the demoralization of the Russian army, its disobedience of orders and voluntary retreat in the face of the enemy, which followed the revolution.

Very much less is heard of the disintegration of the Austrian army, attested by the surrender of regiments in mass at each demonstration of the enemy, and quite as clearly a political matter as the Russian episode. The tide has certainly been moving in the direction of intervention in the war decisions by the people of the remaining autocracies. If something of this sort is to happen on a larger scale, it would naturally come (as have all of Germany's overtures for peace, direct or indirect) on the eve of the winter season. But supposing that it does not occur, or that the new proposal is as futile in character as the others; what then of the fourth year of war? How do the various combatants promise to endure such an added test of political, military, and economic endurance?

GE

of Finan

ERMANY'S situation may be fairly enough inferred from the public utterances of the Kaiser and the Reichstag, and from the fact that only she and her Austrian ally, of all the fifteen or more belligerents, have begged for peace. The German military Evidences machine shows evidence of cial Strain great staying power; but it in Germany no longer advances. Its slow retreats on the western front are varied only by desperate assaults, conducted with such reckless waste of man-power as to suggest the conviction, on the part of her military leaders, that whatever can be done must be done soon, and at any cost. But they will undoubtedly be able to keep up the fight, and meantime, formidable as are the evidences of financial strain, it is not easy to discover signs that, from an economic point of view, Germany is absolutely breaking down.

There are indications, it is true, that the structure of paper credit on which Germany is conducting war is growing top-heavy. With her currency down to a discount of nearly 50 per cent on European neutral markets, and with gold reluctantly exported to guard against further demoralization in exchange, an effort to borrow in Amsterdam at 15 per cent, on Imperial Treasury bills backed by municipal securities, appeared to be wholly unsuccessful. Members of the Swiss Government have announced with