Whether this came from utter ignorance, or from
familiarity with the human appearance of beings who never hurt them, I
could not tell. As I stood once, looking up to the splendid flower of
a parasite, which hung from the branch of a tree over my head, a large
white rabbit cantered slowly up, put one of its little feet on one of
mine, and looked up at me with its red eyes, just as I had been
looking up at the flower above me. I stooped and stroked it; but when
I attempted to lift it, it banged the ground with its hind feet and
scampered off at a great rate, turning, however, to look at me several
times before I lost sight of it. Now and then, too, a dim human figure
would appear and disappear, at some distance, amongst the trees, moving
like a sleep-walker. But no one ever came near me.

This day I found plenty of food in the forest--strange nuts and fruits
I had never seen before. I hesitated to eat them; but argued that, if
I could live on the air of Fairy Land, I could live on its food also. I
found my reasoning correct, and the result was better than I had hoped;
for it not only satisfied my hunger, but operated in such a way upon my
senses that I was brought into far more complete relationship with the
things around me. The human forms appeared much more dense and defined;
more tangibly visible, if I may say so. I seemed to know better which
direction to choose when any doubt arose. I began to feel in some degree
what the birds meant in their songs, though I could not express it in
words, any more than you can some landscapes. At times, to my surprise,
I found myself listening attentively, and as if it were no unusual
thing with me, to a conversation between two squirrels or monkeys.