fast and never catching up. Del Monte _motif_ slow, lazy melody--ending
with dance-music for night-time. In plain English, what Del Monte meant
was a care-free, absolutely care-free, jaunt into another world. It was
not our world,--we could have been happy forever did we never lay eyes
on Del Monte,--and yet, oh, it was such fun! Think of lazing in bed till
eight or eight-thirty, then taking a leisurely bath, then dressing and
deliberately using up time doing it--put one shoe on and look at it a
spell; then, when you are good and ready, put on the next. Just feeling
sort of spunky about it--just wanting to show some one that time is
nothing to you--what's the hurry?

Then--oh, what _motif_ in music could do a Del Monte breakfast justice?
Just yesterday you were gulping down a bite, in between getting the
family fed and off. Here you were, holding hands under the table to make
sure you were not dreaming, while you took minutes and minutes to eat
fruit and mush and eggs and coffee and waffles, and groaned to think
there was still so much on the menu that would cost you nothing to keep
on consuming, but where, oh, where, put it? After rocking a spell in the
sun on the front porch, the green Pierce Arrow appears, and all honk off
for the day--four boxes of picnic lunch stowed away by a gracious
waiter; not a piece of bread for it did you have to spread yourself.
Basking in the sun under cypress trees, talking over every subject under
heaven; back in time for a swim, a rest before dinner; then dinner (why,
oh, why has the human such biological limitations?). Then a concert,
then dancing, then--crowning glory of an unlimited bank-account--Napa
soda lemonade--and bed. Oh, what a four days!

In thinking over the intimate things of our life together, I have
difficulty in deciding what the finest features of it were. There was so
much that made it rich, so much to make me realize I was blessed beyond