In the final chapters of E.
B.
White's
classic 1945 children's novel, Stuart Little,
Stuart (who is a
mouse)
sets off in search of his missing friend, a bird named
Margalo.
Stuart
tells someone he meets in Ames Crossing: "The highways
and byways are
where
you'll find me, always looking for Margalo.
Sometimes I feel that
I'm quite near to her and that she's just around the
turn in the
road.
Other times I feel that I'll never find her and never
hear her voice
again."
[North, indeed, is a
good
direction--maybe
the best--, but this passage is really about the
importance of having a
directed life, an openness to the wonders of the
world, and--in spite
of
the evidence--a certain optimism.]
At the end of the book,
Stuart
comes across
a telephone company repairmen:
"Which direction are you
headed?
[the repairman]
asked.
"North," said Stuart.
"North is nice," said the
repairman.
"I've always enjoyed going north. Of course,
south-west is a fine
direction, too."
"Yes, I suppose it is,"
said Stuart,
thoughtfully.
"And there's east,"
continued the
repairman.
"I once had an interesting experience on an easterly
course. Do
you
want me to tell you about it?"
"No thanks," said Stuart.
The repairman seemed
disappointed,
but
he kept right on talking. "There's something
about north," he
said,
"something that sets it apart from all other
directions. A person
who is heading north is not making any mistake, in
my opinion."
"That's the way I look at
it," said
Stuart.
"I rather expect that from now on I shall be
traveling north until the
end of my days."
"Worse things than that
could happen
to
a person," said the repairman.
"Yes, I know," answered
Stuart.
"Following a broken
telephone line
north,
I have come upon some wonderful places," continued
the repairman.
"Swamps where cedars grow and turtles wait on logs
but not for anything
in particular; fields bordered by crooked fences
broken by years of
standing
still; orchards so old they have forgotten where the
farmhouse
is.
In the north I have eaten my lunch in pastures rank
with ferns and
junipers,
all under fair skies with a wind blowing. My
business has taken
me
into spruce woods on winter nights where the snow
lay deep and soft, a
perfect place for a carnival of rabbits. I
have sat at peace on
the
freight platforms of railroad junctions in the
north, in the warm hours
and with the warm smells. I know fresh lakes
in the north,
undisturbed
except by fish and hawk and, of course, by the
Telephone Company, which
has to follow its nose. I know all these
places well. They
are a long way from here--don't forget that.
And a person who is
looking for something doesn't travel very fast."
"That's perfectly true,"
said
Stuart.
"Well, I guess I'd better get going. Thank you
for your friendly
remarks."
"Not at all," said the
repairman.
"I hope you find that bird."
Stuart rose from the ditch,
climbed
into
his car, and started up the road that led toward the
north. The
sun
was just coming up over the hills on his
right. As he peered
ahead
into the great land that stretched before him, the
way seemed
long.
But the sky was bright, and somehow he felt he was
headed in the right
direction."
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