09-the ponds-第5章
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rising to the surface and dimpling it; sometimes leaving bubbles on
it。 In such transparent and seemingly bottomless water; reflecting
the clouds; I seemed to be floating through the air as in a balloon;
and their swimming impressed me as a kind of flight or hovering; as
if they were a compact flock of birds passing just beneath my level
on the right or left; their fins; like sails; set all around them。
There were many such schools in the pond; apparently improving the
short season before winter would draw an icy shutter over their
broad skylight; sometimes giving to the surface an appearance as if
a slight breeze struck it; or a few rain…drops fell there。 When I
approached carelessly and alarmed them; they made a sudden splash
and rippling with their tails; as if one had struck the water with a
brushy bough; and instantly took refuge in the depths。 At length
the wind rose; the mist increased; and the waves began to run; and
the perch leaped much higher than before; half out of water; a
hundred black points; three inches long; at once above the surface。
Even as late as the fifth of December; one year; I saw some dimples
on the surface; and thinking it was going to rain hard immediately;
the air being fun of mist; I made haste to take my place at the oars
and row homeward; already the rain seemed rapidly increasing; though
I felt none on my cheek; and I anticipated a thorough soaking。 But
suddenly the dimples ceased; for they were produced by the perch;
which the noise of my oars had seared into the depths; and I saw
their schools dimly disappearing; so I spent a dry afternoon after
all。
An old man who used to frequent this pond nearly sixty years
ago; when it was dark with surrounding forests; tells me that in
those days he sometimes saw it all alive with ducks and other
water…fowl; and that there were many eagles about it。 He came here
a…fishing; and used an old log canoe which he found on the shore。
It was made of two white pine logs dug out and pinned together; and
was cut off square at the ends。 It was very clumsy; but lasted a
great many years before it became water…logged and perhaps sank to
the bottom。 He did not know whose it was; it belonged to the pond。
He used to make a cable for his anchor of strips of hickory bark
tied together。 An old man; a potter; who lived by the pond before
the Revolution; told him once that there was an iron chest at the
bottom; and that he had seen it。 Sometimes it would come floating
up to the shore; but when you went toward it; it would go back into
deep water and disappear。 I was pleased to hear of the old log
canoe; which took the place of an Indian one of the same material
but more graceful construction; which perchance had first been a
tree on the bank; and then; as it were; fell into the water; to
float there for a generation; the most proper vessel for the lake。
I remember that when I first looked into these depths there were
many large trunks to be seen indistinctly lying on the bottom; which
had either been blown over formerly; or left on the ice at the last
cutting; when wood was cheaper; but now they have mostly
disappeared。
When I first paddled a boat on Walden; it was completely
surrounded by thick and lofty pine and oak woods; and in some of its
coves grape…vines had run over the trees next the water and formed
bowers under which a boat could pass。 The hills which form its
shores are so steep; and the woods on them were then so high; that;
as you looked down from the west end; it had the appearance of an
amphitheatre for some land of sylvan spectacle。 I have spent many
an hour; when I was younger; floating over its surface as the zephyr
willed; having paddled my boat to the middle; and lying on my back
across the seats; in a summer forenoon; dreaming awake; until I was
aroused by the boat touching the sand; and I arose to see what shore
my fates had impelled me to; days when idleness was the most
attractive and productive industry。 Many a forenoon have I stolen
away; preferring to spend thus the most valued part of the day; for
I was rich; if not in money; in sunny hours and summer days; and
spent them lavishly; nor do I regret that I did not waste more of
them in the workshop or the teacher's desk。 But since I left those
shores the woodchoppers have still further laid them waste; and now
for many a year there will be no more rambling through the aisles of
the wood; with occasional vistas through which you see the water。
My Muse may be excused if she is silent henceforth。 How can you
expect the birds to sing when their groves are cut down?
Now the trunks of trees on the bottom; and the old log canoe;
and the dark surrounding woods; are gone; and the villagers; who
scarcely know where it lies; instead of going to the pond to bathe
or drink; are thinking to bring its water; which should be as sacred
as the Ganges at least; to the village in a pipe; to wash their
dishes with! to earn their Walden by the turning of a cock or
drawing of a plug! That devilish Iron Horse; whose ear…rending
neigh is heard throughout the town; has muddied the Boiling Spring
with his foot; and he it is that has browsed off all the woods on
Walden shore; that Trojan horse; with a thousand men in his belly;
introduced by mercenary Greeks! Where is the country's champion;
the Moore of Moore Hill; to meet him at the Deep Cut and thrust an
avenging lance between the ribs of the bloated pest?
Nevertheless; of all the characters I have known; perhaps Walden
wears best; and best preserves its purity。 Many men have been
likened to it; but few deserve that honor。 Though the woodchoppers
have laid bare first this shore and then that; and the Irish have
built their sties by it; and the railroad has infringed on its
border; and the ice…men have skimmed it once; it is itself
unchanged; the same water which my youthful eyes fell on; all the
change is in me。 It has not acquired one permanent wrinkle after
all its ripples。 It is perennially young; and I may stand and see a
swallow dip apparently to pick an insect from its surface as of
yore。 It struck me again tonight; as if I had not seen it almost
daily for more than twenty years Why; here is Walden; the same
woodland lake that I discovered so many years ago; where a forest
was cut down last winter another is springing up by its shore as
lustily as ever; the same thought is welling up to its surface that
was then; it is the same liquid joy and happiness to itself and its
Maker; ay; and it may be to me。 It is the work of a brave man
surely; in whom there was no guile! He rounded this water with his
hand; deepened and clarified it in his thought; and in his will
bequeathed it to Concord。 I see by its face that it is visited by
the same reflection; and I can almost say; Walden; is it you?
It is no dream of mine;
To ornament a line;
I cannot come nearer to God and Heaven
Than I live to Walden even。
I am its stony shore;
And the breeze that passes o'er;
In the hollow of my hand
Are its water and its sand;
And its deepest resort
Lies high in my thought。
The cars never pause to look at it; yet I fancy that the
engineers and firemen and brakemen; and those passengers who have a
season ticket and see it often; are better men for the sight。 The
engineer does not forget at night; or his nature does not; that he
has beheld this vision of serenity and purity once at least during
the day。 Though seen but once; it helps to wash out State Street
and the engine's soot。 One proposes that it be called 〃God's Drop。〃
I have said that Walden has no visible inlet nor outlet; but it
is on the one hand distantly and indirectly related to Flint's Pond;
which is more elevated; by a chain of small ponds coming from that
quarter; and o