the grounds in which it is found. There are the usual three degrees of finish: highly wrought, medium, and rough. The first, with wood or stone copings, carefully cut, fitted, and planed, is architectural in character, and may be employed in a carefully finished garden. It would probably have a roof over it, similar in character to that of the house itself, or of the summer- or tea-house near it.
The roughest sort would most likely have its coping of unplaned old logs—with moss and worm holes for decoration—perhaps crossed, like a ‘rustic’ picture frame, at the corners, and tied with dark wood rope or dyed vine fibres. Or it might be of rough uncut stones, fitted together like an old well-top at home, and perhaps cemented crudely round the well hole, but all kept purposely free and unfinished in style. This would look casual enough, but the stones would be secure, and the whole structure safe as a church. The middle degree would, of course, be more carefully arranged than this, but not so well finished as the first.
Mr. Conder tells us that “The well frequently assists to express the mood of the garden, and some designers have used it to imply a sentiment, not unlike the familiar Scriptural analogy of Eternal Life.” I am afraid I must disagree with this opinion a little. A poetic Japanese friend laid great stress on other open spaces of
