connects the machiai with the tea-room. The tea-room is
unimpressive in appearance. It is smaller than the smallest
of Japanese houses, while the materials used in its construction
are intended to give the suggestion of refined poverty. Yet we
must remember that all this is the result of profound artistic
forethought, and that the details have been worked out with care
perhaps even greater than that expended on the building of the
richest palaces and temples. A good tea-room is more costly than
an ordinary mansion, for the selection of its materials, as well as its
workmanship, requires immense care and precision. Indeed, the
carpenters employed by the tea-masters form a distinct and
highly honoured class among artisans, their work being no
less delicate than that of the makers of lacquer cabinets.

The tea-room is not only different from any production of
Western architecture, but also contrasts strongly with the
classical architecture of Japan itself. Our ancient noble
edifices, whether secular or ecclesiastical, were not to be
despised even as regards their mere size. The few that have
been spared in the disastrous conflagrations of centuries
are still capable of aweing us by the grandeur and richness
of their decoration. Huge pillars of wood from two to three
feet in diameter and from thirty to forty feet high, supported,
by a complicated network of brackets, the enormous beams
which groaned under the weight of the tile-covered roofs.
The material and mode of construction, though weak against
fire, proved itself strong against earthquakes, and was well
suited to the climatic conditions of the country. In the Golden
Hall of Horiuji and the Pagoda of Yakushiji, we have noteworthy
examples of the durability of our wooden architecture. These