“Dear me!” said David, “it is too bad the way is not more clearly marked.”
“It never is,” said the old woman, “and it never can be, for each year the new leaves grow up to cover the old trail, and each year a new trail has to be found. In fact, each one has to make his own trail, even when he seems to be following another’s and deceives himself into thinking that he is doing so. It is the law of the Forest, for any trail other than the one we make ourselves may lead us where we do not desire to go, and all at once we find ourselves deep in the woods, the path lost and we ourselves lost. No: we have to know where we are going and why we are going there. Then, when we know thus much for sure, there is always some sign to follow that will prevent us from losing the way. So you see, although I may start out on this path, that does not mean I shall follow it all the way; it depends upon the way the bird flies.”
“What bird?” asked David.
“The Blue Bird,” answered the old Woman.
“There are no blue birds in these woodlands,” said David. “I have lived here all my life and have never seen one. There are yellow birds and red birds, brown birds and green birds, white birds and black birds; but I have never seen a blue bird—I did not know there was one of that colour.”
“Well,” said the old Woman, “perhaps some day you will see a Blue Bird. When you do—let me give you just this word of advice—follow it, no matter where you are walking, no matter how smooth and beautiful your path may be, no matter through what regions the Bird may lead you. Follow it, follow it, little boy, for it will guide you there.”
“Where?” asked David.
“To the Tree,” answered the old Woman.
“What tree?” asked David.
“To the Tree in the midst of the Garden.”