appropriately used around—or as screen fences in—the rougher sorts of gardens.
More than a word should be said, too, of the cords with which parts of bamboo and reed fences are tied, for it is in these little details—as in a dress from a good Paris house—that originality and perfection of finish are displayed. The rope is generally of natural fibre, perhaps of Wistaria, which is so strong that it may be used to hold parts of buildings together; perhaps of the tough little tendrils of vines and creepers, or of the strong grass which the Chinese use so much, but as likely as not it will be of sago palm, or of hemp, dyed black or brown or deep sienna. There are used no ugly glaring and staring yellows and pinks and purples, to insult the eyes of these artistic people; even the cords—I had almost written ‘chords’—must harmonize.
But a most important type of fence is not to be omitted, the ‘Screen,’ or ‘Sleeve Fence.’ In these almost more variety exists than in any other kind, because their object is to conceal, by a beautiful thing, something else that is unbeautiful. They are usually at the edge of the veranda to protect the washer at the water-basin, or perhaps to block out some unsightly but necessary part of the house or grounds, or to give interest, and a sense of there being ‘more beyond,’ to a restricted space. The very name, ‘Sleeve Fence,’ is suggestive of
