JAPANESE APPLIED ART
and the portions of the face lying in the interstices of these points become more or less depressed, so that light falling on the surface is broken up and unevenly reflected. Dr. Anderson has suggested that the "magical" feature has another explanation; namely, that the contraction of the fused metal when cooling in the mould was influenced by the comparative thickness or thinness due to the convexities and concavities of the pattern. That is probable enough, but it has been demonstrated by experiment that the property in question can be produced at will, by a process founded on the former theory. The Japanese, whether manufacturers or users of these mirrors, never regarded their freaks of reflection as an admirable quality, and Western virtuosi might wisely adopt the same attitude towards the phenomenon.
Japan's temple bells deserve notice for many reasons,—not the bell-like objects of thin cast iron found buried in the ground in certain provinces, objects whose purpose has never been clearly ascertained, but the bronze bells actually used as such from the eighth century onward. The metallic voices that summon worshippers in the West can seldom be counted sounds of gentleness and harmony. Even cathedral carillons of Europe and America have too often a clash and a clang little suggestive of "the peace that passeth understanding." But the tsuri-gane (suspended bell) of Japan gives forth a voice of the most exquisite sweetness and harmony—a voice that enhances the lovely landscapes and seascapes, across which the sweet solemn notes come floating on autumn evenings and in the stillness of summer's noonday hazes. The song of these bells can never be forgotten by those that have once heard it. Their
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