Madonna of the Little Bees FROM A DOLOMITE NOTEBOOK] T HE
actual moment of arriving back at full con- sciousness after uninterrupted sleep is so important, it seems to me, that I wonder the psycho-analysts, ad- vanced educationists and whatnot have not done some- thing about it before now. Or perhaps they have, this being no new discovery : was not Montaigne as a child awakened every morning by music ? Well, here we drift back into morning life to the Link-tonk of cow-bells, plash of falling water, chatter of early road-travellers turning into • it albergo courtyard—all which sounds, from what they indicate, are sweeter to me than violin airs. I emerge deliciously out of the cave of oblivion into a world of snow and sunlight, alpine roses, pine- scent and coffee-scent ; and sooner or later, lying there effortlessly soaking in these bewitchments, I remember the honey-pot and am out of bed at a bound. If all waking moments were like this I should go through life as happy as a Japanese cherry-picker, my belief in the " worthwhileness " of creation renewed morning by morning, and whatsoever disasters the day might bring— no matter : to-morrow there would he another adventure after dawn
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