"faraway hills" Discussed on Boring Books for Bedtime
"Host will not enter the room until all the guests have seated themselves and quiet rains with nothing to break the silence. Save the note of the boiling water in the iron cattle. The kettle sings. Well for pieces of iron are so arranged in the bottom as to produce a peculiar melody in which one may hear the echoes of a cataract muffled by clouds of a distant. See breaking among the rocks. A rain storm sweeping through a bamboo forest or of the suffing of pines on some faraway hill. Even in the daytime. The light in the room is subdued for the low eaves of the slanting roof admit but few of the sun's rays. Everything is so bear intent from the ceiling to the floor. The guests themselves have carefully chosen garments of unobtrusive colors. The mellowness of age is over all everything. Suggestive of recent acquire moment. Being tap booed save only the one note of contrast furnished by the bamboo dipper and the linen napkin both immaculately white and new however faded the tea room. And the t acapa jai seem. Everything is absolutely clean. Not a particle of dust will be found in the darkest corner or if any exists the host is not a tea master one of the first requisites of a tea master is the knowledge of how to sweep clean and wash for. There is an art. In cleaning and dusting. A piece of antique metalwork must not be attacked with the unscrupulous seal of the dutch housewife dripping. Water from a flower vase need not be wiped away for it may be suggestive of do and coolness in this connection. There is a story of req- which well illustrates the ideas of cleanliness entertained by the tea. Masters req- was watching his son show on as he swept and water garden path. Not clean enough said req- one show on and finished his task and bait him. Try again after weary. Our the sun turned to req- father. There is nothing more to be done. The steps have been washed for the third time the stone lanterns and the trees are well sprinkled with water. Moss santa lichens are shining with a fresh merger. Not a twig not. Leave half i left on the ground. Young full chided the tea master. That is not the way a garden path should be swept saying this. Rick stepped into the garden shook a tree and scattered over the garden. Gold and crimson leaves scraps of the brocade of autumn. What req- demanded was not cleanliness alone. But the beautiful and the natural also.
Moss santa
Rick
