09-the ponds-第4章

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pleasing　mystery　to　the　bottom。

　　　　The　shore　is　irregular　enough　not　to　be　monotonous。　　I　have　in

my　mind's　eye　the　western；　indented　with　deep　bays；　the　bolder

northern；　and　the　beautifully　scalloped　southern　shore；　where

successive　capes　overlap　each　other　and　suggest　unexplored　coves

between。　　The　forest　has　never　so　good　a　setting；　nor　is　so

distinctly　beautiful；　as　when　seen　from　the　middle　of　a　small　lake

amid　hills　which　rise　from　the　water's　edge；　for　the　water　in　which

it　is　reflected　not　only　makes　the　best　foreground　in　such　a　case；

but；　with　its　winding　shore；　the　most　natural　and　agreeable　boundary

to　it。　　There　is　no　rawness　nor　imperfection　in　its　edge　there；　as

where　the　axe　has　cleared　a　part；　or　a　cultivated　field　abuts　on　it。

The　trees　have　ample　room　to　expand　on　the　water　side；　and　each

sends　forth　its　most　vigorous　branch　in　that　direction。　　There

Nature　has　woven　a　natural　selvage；　and　the　eye　rises　by　just

gradations　from　the　low　shrubs　of　the　shore　to　the　highest　trees。

There　are　few　traces　of　man's　hand　to　be　seen。　　The　water　laves　the

shore　as　it　did　a　thousand　years　ago。

　　　　A　lake　is　the　landscape's　most　beautiful　and　expressive　feature。

It　is　earth's　eye；　looking　into　which　the　beholder　measures　the

depth　of　his　own　nature。　　The　fluviatile　trees　next　the　shore　are

the　slender　eyelashes　which　fringe　it；　and　the　wooded　hills　and

cliffs　around　are　its　overhanging　brows。

　　　　Standing　on　the　smooth　sandy　beach　at　the　east　end　of　the　pond；

in　a　calm　September　afternoon；　when　a　slight　haze　makes　the　opposite

shore…line　indistinct；　I　have　seen　whence　came　the　expression；　〃the

glassy　surface　of　a　lake。〃　　When　you　invert　your　head；　it　looks　like

a　thread　of　finest　gossamer　stretched　across　the　valley；　and

gleaming　against　the　distant　pine　woods；　separating　one　stratum　of

the　atmosphere　from　another。　　You　would　think　that　you　could　walk

dry　under　it　to　the　opposite　hills；　and　that　the　swallows　which　skim

over　might　perch　on　it。　　Indeed；　they　sometimes　dive　below　this

line；　as　it　were　by　mistake；　and　are　undeceived。　　As　you　look　over

the　pond　westward　you　are　obliged　to　employ　both　your　hands　to

defend　your　eyes　against　the　reflected　as　well　as　the　true　sun；　for

they　are　equally　bright；　and　if；　between　the　two；　you　survey　its

surface　critically；　it　is　literally　as　smooth　as　glass；　except　where

the　skater　insects；　at　equal　intervals　scattered　over　its　whole

extent；　by　their　motions　in　the　sun　produce　the　finest　imaginable

sparkle　on　it；　or；　perchance；　a　duck　plumes　itself；　or；　as　I　have

said；　a　swallow　skims　so　low　as　to　touch　it。　　It　may　be　that　in　the

distance　a　fish　describes　an　arc　of　three　or　four　feet　in　the　air；

and　there　is　one　bright　flash　where　it　emerges；　and　another　where　it

strikes　the　water；　sometimes　the　whole　silvery　arc　is　revealed；　or

here　and　there；　perhaps；　is　a　thistle…down　floating　on　its　surface；

which　the　fishes　dart　at　and　so　dimple　it　again。　　It　is　like　molten

glass　cooled　but　not　congealed；　and　the　few　motes　in　it　are　pure　and

beautiful　like　the　imperfections　in　glass。　　You　may　often　detect　a

yet　smoother　and　darker　water；　separated　from　the　rest　as　if　by　an

invisible　cobweb；　boom　of　the　water　nymphs；　resting　on　it。　　From　a

hilltop　you　can　see　a　fish　leap　in　almost　any　part；　for　not　a

pickerel　or　shiner　picks　an　insect　from　this　smooth　surface　but　it

manifestly　disturbs　the　equilibrium　of　the　whole　lake。　　It　is

wonderful　with　what　elaborateness　this　simple　fact　is　advertised　

this　piscine　murder　will　out　　and　from　my　distant　perch　I

distinguish　the　circling　undulations　when　they　are　half　a　dozen　rods

in　diameter。　　You　can　even　detect　a　water…bug　（Gyrinus）　ceaselessly

progressing　over　the　smooth　surface　a　quarter　of　a　mile　off；　for

they　furrow　the　water　slightly；　making　a　conspicuous　ripple　bounded

by　two　diverging　lines；　but　the　skaters　glide　over　it　without

rippling　it　perceptibly。　　When　the　surface　is　considerably　agitated

there　are　no　skaters　nor　water…bugs　on　it；　but　apparently；　in　calm

days；　they　leave　their　havens　and　adventurously　glide　forth　from　the

shore　by　short　impulses　till　they　completely　cover　it。　　It　is　a

soothing　employment；　on　one　of　those　fine　days　in　the　fall　when　all

the　warmth　of　the　sun　is　fully　appreciated；　to　sit　on　a　stump　on

such　a　height　as　this；　overlooking　the　pond；　and　study　the　dimpling

circles　which　are　incessantly　inscribed　on　its　otherwise　invisible

surface　amid　the　reflected　skies　and　trees。　　Over　this　great　expanse

there　is　no　disturbance　but　it　is　thus　at　once　gently　smoothed　away

and　assuaged；　as；　when　a　vase　of　water　is　jarred；　the　trembling

circles　seek　the　shore　and　all　is　smooth　again。　　Not　a　fish　can　leap

or　an　insect　fall　on　the　pond　but　it　is　thus　reported　in　circling

dimples；　in　lines　of　beauty；　as　it　were　the　constant　welling　up　of

its　fountain；　the　gentle　pulsing　of　its　life；　the　heaving　of　its

breast。　　The　thrills　of　joy　and　thrills　of　pain　are

undistinguishable。　　How　peaceful　the　phenomena　of　the　lake！　　Again

the　works　of　man　shine　as　in　the　spring。　　Ay；　every　leaf　and　twig

and　stone　and　cobweb　sparkles　now　at　mid…afternoon　as　when　covered

with　dew　in　a　spring　morning。　　Every　motion　of　an　oar　or　an　insect

produces　a　flash　of　light；　and　if　an　oar　falls；　how　sweet　the　echo！

　　　　In　such　a　day；　in　September　or　October；　Walden　is　a　perfect

forest　mirror；　set　round　with　stones　as　precious　to　my　eye　as　if

fewer　or　rarer。　　Nothing　so　fair；　so　pure；　and　at　the　same　time　so

large；　as　a　lake；　perchance；　lies　on　the　surface　of　the　earth。　　Sky

water。　　It　needs　no　fence。　　Nations　come　and　go　without　defiling　it。

It　is　a　mirror　which　no　stone　can　crack；　whose　quicksilver　will

never　wear　off；　whose　gilding　Nature　continually　repairs；　no　storms；

no　dust；　can　dim　its　surface　ever　fresh；　　a　mirror　in　which　all

impurity　presented　to　it　sinks；　swept　and　dusted　by　the　sun's　hazy

brush　　this　the　light　dust…cloth　　which　retains　no　breath　that

is　breathed　on　it；　but　sends　its　own　to　float　as　clouds　high　above

its　surface；　and　be　reflected　in　its　bosom　still。

　　　　A　field　of　water　betrays　the　spirit　that　is　in　the　air。　　It　is

continually　receiving　new　life　and　motion　from　above。　　It　is

intermediate　in　its　nature　between　land　and　sky。　　On　land　only　the

grass　and　trees　wave；　but　the　water　itself　is　rippled　by　the　wind。

I　see　where　the　breeze　dashes　across　it　by　the　streaks　or　flakes　of

light。　　It　is　remarkable　that　we　can　look　down　on　its　surface。　　We

shall；　perhaps；　look　down　thus　on　the　surface　of　air　at　length；　and

mark　where　a　still　subtler　spirit　sweeps　over　it。

　　　　The　skaters　and　water…bugs　finally　disappear　in　the　latter　part

of　October；　when　the　severe　frosts　have　come；　and　then　and　in

November；　usually；　in　a　calm　day；　there　is　absolutely　nothing　to

ripple　the　surface。　　One　November　afternoon；　in　the　calm　at　the　end

of　a　rain…storm　of　several　days'　duration；　when　the　sky　was　still

completely　overcast　and　the　air　was　full　of　mist；　I　observed　that

the　pond　was　remarkably　smooth；　so　that　it　was　difficult　to

distinguish　its　surface；　though　it　no　longer　reflected　the　bright

tints　of　October；　but　the　sombre　November　colors　of　the　surrounding

hills。　　Though　I　passed　over　it　as　gently　as　possible；　the　slight

undulations　produced　by　my　boat　extended　almost　as　far　as　I　could

see；　and　gave　a　ribbed　appearance　to　the　reflections。　　But；　as　I　was

looking　over　the　surface；　I　saw　here　and　there　at　a　distance　a　faint

glimmer；　as　if　some　skater　insects　which　had　escaped　the　frosts

might　be　collected　there；　or；　perchance；　the　surface；　being　so

smooth；　betrayed　where　a　spring　welled　up　from　the　bottom。　　Paddling

gently　to　one　of　these　places；　I　was　surprised　to　find　myself

surrounded　by　myriads　of　small　perch；　about　five　inches　long；　of　a

rich　bronze　color　in　the　green　water；　sporting　there；　and　constantly

rising　to　the　surface　and　dimpling　it；　sometimes　leaving　bubbles　on

it。　　In　such　transparent　and　seemingly　bottomless