Mrs. Wilsons True Tales Retold

(corresponding to “Jack and Beulah”) A creature like a rabbit, whose heart beats so rapidly that he must see details in motion which for me are a blur, must hear whispers in the brush across the span of large meadows, even when the wind is blowing, has reflexes and agility that I cannot imagine—anticipating harm before it strikes, he is gone before I can start to think. Because of this keen intensity, he must be so much more happy when he is happy, so much more enthusiastic, excited in how he feels, than we are, the dull and the plodding and the ordinary types. His leaping is breath-taking; he exults; he is heroic. The rabbit is not timid at all. Don’t mistake it for timidity, because he runs away—that is his gift and gaiety—and many are so jealous of him, they want to eat him, so they can become just like him. Children are like this, and some who have not grown up. They go like bees about us, so fast and energetically, we think they will ignite by the heat of it, while we prefer our sofas and our snacks