16-the pond in winter-第4章

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〃cradle…holes〃　were　worn　in　the　ice；　as　on　terra　firma；　by　the

passage　of　the　sleds　over　the　same　track；　and　the　horses　invariably

ate　their　oats　out　of　cakes　of　ice　hollowed　out　like　buckets。　　They

stacked　up　the　cakes　thus　in　the　open　air　in　a　pile　thirty…five　feet

high　on　one　side　and　six　or　seven　rods　square；　putting　hay　between

the　outside　layers　to　exclude　the　air；　for　when　the　wind；　though

never　so　cold；　finds　a　passage　through；　it　will　wear　large　cavities；

leaving　slight　supports　or　studs　only　here　and　there；　and　finally

topple　it　down。　　At　first　it　looked　like　a　vast　blue　fort　or

Valhalla；　but　when　they　began　to　tuck　the　coarse　meadow　hay　into　the

crevices；　and　this　became　covered　with　rime　and　icicles；　it　looked

like　a　venerable　moss…grown　and　hoary　ruin；　built　of　azure…tinted

marble；　the　abode　of　Winter；　that　old　man　we　see　in　the　almanac　

his　shanty；　as　if　he　had　a　design　to　estivate　with　us。　　They

calculated　that　not　twenty…five　per　cent　of　this　would　reach　its

destination；　and　that　two　or　three　per　cent　would　be　wasted　in　the

cars。　　However；　a　still　greater　part　of　this　heap　had　a　different

destiny　from　what　was　intended；　for；　either　because　the　ice　was

found　not　to　keep　so　well　as　was　expected；　containing　more　air　than

usual；　or　for　some　other　reason；　it　never　got　to　market。　　This　heap；

made　in　the　winter　of　'46…7　and　estimated　to　contain　ten　thousand

tons；　was　finally　covered　with　hay　and　boards；　and　though　it　was

unroofed　the　following　July；　and　a　part　of　it　carried　off；　the　rest

remaining　exposed　to　the　sun；　it　stood　over　that　summer　and　the　next

winter；　and　was　not　quite　melted　till　September；　1848。　　Thus　the

pond　recovered　the　greater　part。

　　　　Like　the　water；　the　Walden　ice；　seen　near　at　hand；　has　a　green

tint；　but　at　a　distance　is　beautifully　blue；　and　you　can　easily　tell

it　from　the　white　ice　of　the　river；　or　the　merely　greenish　ice　of

some　ponds；　a　quarter　of　a　mile　off。　　Sometimes　one　of　those　great

cakes　slips　from　the　ice…man's　sled　into　the　village　street；　and

lies　there　for　a　week　like　a　great　emerald；　an　object　of　interest　to

all　passers。　　I　have　noticed　that　a　portion　of　Walden　which　in　the

state　of　water　was　green　will　often；　when　frozen；　appear　from　the

same　point　of　view　blue。　　So　the　hollows　about　this　pond　will；

sometimes；　in　the　winter；　be　filled　with　a　greenish　water　somewhat

like　its　own；　but　the　next　day　will　have　frozen　blue。　　Perhaps　the

blue　color　of　water　and　ice　is　due　to　the　light　and　air　they

contain；　and　the　most　transparent　is　the　bluest。　　Ice　is　an

interesting　subject　for　contemplation。　　They　told　me　that　they　had

some　in　the　ice…houses　at　Fresh　Pond　five　years　old　which　was　as

good　as　ever。　　Why　is　it　that　a　bucket　of　water　soon　becomes　putrid；

but　frozen　remains　sweet　forever？　　It　is　commonly　said　that　this　is

the　difference　between　the　affections　and　the　intellect。

　　　　Thus　for　sixteen　days　I　saw　from　my　window　a　hundred　men　at　work

like　busy　husbandmen；　with　teams　and　horses　and　apparently　all　the

implements　of　farming；　such　a　picture　as　we　see　on　the　first　page　of

the　almanac；　and　as　often　as　I　looked　out　I　was　reminded　of　the

fable　of　the　lark　and　the　reapers；　or　the　parable　of　the　sower；　and

the　like；　and　now　they　are　all　gone；　and　in　thirty　days　more；

probably；　I　shall　look　from　the　same　window　on　the　pure　sea…green

Walden　water　there；　reflecting　the　clouds　and　the　trees；　and　sending

up　its　evaporations　in　solitude；　and　no　traces　will　appear　that　a

man　has　ever　stood　there。　　Perhaps　I　shall　hear　a　solitary　loon

laugh　as　he　dives　and　plumes　himself；　or　shall　see　a　lonely　fisher

in　his　boat；　like　a　floating　leaf；　beholding　his　form　reflected　in

the　waves；　where　lately　a　hundred　men　securely　labored。

　　　　Thus　it　appears　that　the　sweltering　inhabitants　of　Charleston

and　New　Orleans；　of　Madras　and　Bombay　and　Calcutta；　drink　at　my

well。　　In　the　morning　I　bathe　my　intellect　in　the　stupendous　and

cosmogonal　philosophy　of　the　Bhagvat…Geeta；　since　whose　composition

years　of　the　gods　have　elapsed；　and　in　comparison　with　which　our

modern　world　and　its　literature　seem　puny　and　trivial；　and　I　doubt

if　that　philosophy　is　not　to　be　referred　to　a　previous　state　of

existence；　so　remote　is　its　sublimity　from　our　conceptions。　　I　lay

down　the　book　and　go　to　my　well　for　water；　and　lo！　there　I　meet　the

servant　of　the　Bramin；　priest　of　Brahma　and　Vishnu　and　Indra；　who

still　sits　in　his　temple　on　the　Ganges　reading　the　Vedas；　or　dwells

at　the　root　of　a　tree　with　his　crust　and　water　jug。　　I　meet　his

servant　come　to　draw　water　for　his　master；　and　our　buckets　as　it

were　grate　together　in　the　same　well。　　The　pure　Walden　water　is

mingled　with　the　sacred　water　of　the　Ganges。　　With　favoring　winds　it

is　wafted　past　the　site　of　the　fabulous　islands　of　Atlantis　and　the

Hesperides；　makes　the　periplus　of　Hanno；　and；　floating　by　Ternate

and　Tidore　and　the　mouth　of　the　Persian　Gulf；　melts　in　the　tropic

gales　of　the　Indian　seas；　and　is　landed　in　ports　of　which　Alexander

only　heard　the　names。