09-the ponds-第1部分

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Ponds



　　　　Sometimes；　having　had　a　surfeit　of　human　society　and　gossip；　and

worn　out　all　my　village　friends；　I　rambled　still　farther　westward

than　I　habitually　dwell；　into　yet　more　unfrequented　parts　of　the

town；　〃to　fresh　woods　and　pastures　new；〃　or；　while　the　sun　was

setting；　made　my　supper　of　huckleberries　and　blueberries　on　Fair

Haven　Hill；　and　laid　up　a　store　for　several　days。　　The　fruits　do　not

yield　their　true　flavor　to　the　purchaser　of　them；　nor　to　him　who

raises　them　for　the　market。　　There　is　but　one　way　to　obtain　it；　yet

few　take　that　way。　　If　you　would　know　the　flavor　of　huckleberries；

ask　the　cowboy　or　the　partridge。　　It　is　a　vulgar　error　to　suppose

that　you　have　tasted　huckleberries　who　never　plucked　them。　　A

huckleberry　never　reaches　Boston；　they　have　not　been　known　there

since　they　grew　on　her　three　hills。　　The　ambrosial　and　essential

part　of　the　fruit　is　lost　with　the　bloom　which　is　rubbed　off　in　the

market　cart；　and　they　become　mere　provender。　　As　long　as　Eternal

Justice　reigns；　not　one　innocent　huckleberry　can　be　transported

thither　from　the　country's　hills。

　　　　Occasionally；　after　my　hoeing　was　done　for　the　day；　I　joined

some　impatient　companion　who　had　been　fishing　on　the　pond　since

morning；　as　silent　and　motionless　as　a　duck　or　a　floating　leaf；　and；

after　practising　various　kinds　of　philosophy；　had　concluded

commonly；　by　the　time　I　arrived；　that　he　belonged　to　the　ancient

sect　of　Coenobites。　　There　was　one　older　man；　an　excellent　fisher

and　skilled　in　all　kinds　of　woodcraft；　who　was　pleased　to　look　upon

my　house　as　a　building　erected　for　the　convenience　of　fishermen；　and

I　was　equally　pleased　when　he　sat　in　my　doorway　to　arrange　his

lines。　　Once　in　a　while　we　sat　together　on　the　pond；　he　at　one　end

of　the　boat；　and　I　at　the　other；　but　not　many　words　passed　between

us；　for　he　had　grown　deaf　in　his　later　years；　but　he　occasionally

hummed　a　psalm；　which　harmonized　well　enough　with　my　philosophy。

Our　intercourse　was　thus　altogether　one　of　unbroken　harmony；　far

more　pleasing　to　remember　than　if　it　had　been　carried　on　by　speech。

When；　as　was　commonly　the　case；　I　had　none　to　commune　with；　I　used

to　raise　the　echoes　by　striking　with　a　paddle　on　the　side　of　my

boat；　filling　the　surrounding　woods　with　circling　and　dilating

sound；　stirring　them　up　as　the　keeper　of　a　menagerie　his　wild

beasts；　until　I　elicited　a　growl　from　every　wooded　vale　and

hillside。

　　　　In　warm　evenings　I　frequently　sat　in　the　boat　playing　the　flute；

and　saw　the　perch；　which　I　seem　to　have　charmed；　hovering　around　me；

and　the　moon　travelling　over　the　ribbed　bottom；　which　was　strewed

with　the　wrecks　of　the　forest。　　Formerly　I　had　come　to　this　pond

adventurously；　from　time　to　time；　in　dark　summer　nights；　with　a

companion；　and；　making　a　fire　close　to　the　water's　edge；　which　we

thought　attracted　the　fishes；　we　caught　pouts　with　a　bunch　of　worms

strung　on　a　thread；　and　when　we　had　done；　far　in　the　night；　threw

the　burning　brands　high　into　the　air　like　skyrockets；　which；　coming

down　into　the　pond；　were　quenched　with　a　loud　hissing；　and　we　were

suddenly　groping　in　total　darkness。　　Through　this；　whistling　a　tune；

we　took　our　way　to　the　haunts　of　men　again。　　But　now　I　had　made　my

home　by　the　shore。

　　　　Sometimes；　after　staying　in　a　village　parlor　till　the　family　had

all　retired；　I　have　returned　to　the　woods；　and；　partly　with　a　view

to　the　next　day's　dinner；　spent　the　hours　of　midnight　fishing　from　a

boat　by　moonlight；　serenaded　by　owls　and　foxes；　and　hearing；　from

time　to　time；　the　creaking　note　of　some　unknown　bird　close　at　hand。

These　experiences　were　very　memorable　and　valuable　to　me　　anchored

in　forty　feet　of　water；　and　twenty　or　thirty　rods　from　the　shore；

surrounded　sometimes　by　thousands　of　small　perch　and　shiners；

dimpling　the　surface　with　their　tails　in　the　moonlight；　and

communicating　by　a　long　flaxen　line　with　mysterious　nocturnal　fishes

which　had　their　dwelling　forty　feet　below；　or　sometimes　dragging

sixty　feet　of　line　about　the　pond　as　I　drifted　in　the　gentle　night

breeze；　now　and　then　feeling　a　slight　vibration　along　it；　indicative

of　some　life　prowling　about　its　extremity；　of　dull　uncertain

blundering　purpose　there；　and　slow　to　make　up　its　mind。　　At　length

you　slowly　raise；　pulling　hand　over　hand；　some　horned　pout　squeaking

and　squirming　to　the　upper　air。　　It　was　very　queer；　especially　in

dark　nights；　when　your　thoughts　had　wandered　to　vast　and　cosmogonal

themes　in　other　spheres；　to　feel　this　faint　jerk；　which　came　to

interrupt　your　dreams　and　link　you　to　Nature　again。　　It　seemed　as　if

I　might　next　cast　my　line　upward　into　the　air；　as　well　as　downward

into　this　element；　which　was　scarcely　more　dense。　　Thus　I　caught　two

fishes　as　it　were　with　one　hook。

　　　　The　scenery　of　Walden　is　on　a　humble　scale；　and；　though　very

beautiful；　does　not　approach　to　grandeur；　nor　can　it　much　concern

one　who　has　not　long　frequented　it　or　lived　by　its　shore；　yet　this

pond　is　so　remarkable　for　its　depth　and　purity　as　to　merit　a

particular　description。　　It　is　a　clear　and　deep　green　well；　half　a

mile　long　and　a　mile　and　three　quarters　in　circumference；　and

contains　about　sixty…one　and　a　half　acres；　a　perennial　spring　in　the

midst　of　pine　and　oak　woods；　without　any　visible　inlet　or　outlet

except　by　the　clouds　and　evaporation。　　The　surrounding　hills　rise

abruptly　from　the　water　to　the　height　of　forty　to　eighty　feet；

though　on　the　southeast　and　east　they　attain　to　about　one　hundred

and　one　hundred　and　fifty　feet　respectively；　within　a　quarter　and　a

third　of　a　mile。　　They　are　exclusively　woodland。　　All　our　Concord

waters　have　two　colors　at　least；　one　when　viewed　at　a　distance；　and

another；　more　proper；　close　at　hand。　　The　first　depends　more　on　the

light；　and　follows　the　sky。　　In　clear　weather；　in　summer；　they

appear　blue　at　a　little　distance；　especially　if　agitated；　and　at　a

great　distance　all　appear　alike。　　In　stormy　weather　they　are

sometimes　of　a　dark　slate…color。　　The　sea；　however；　is　said　to　be

blue　one　day　and　green　another　without　any　perceptible　change　in　the

atmosphere。　　I　have　seen　our　river；　when；　the　landscape　being

covered　with　snow；　both　water　and　ice　were　almost　as　green　as　grass。

Some　consider　blue　〃to　be　the　color　of　pure　water；　whether　liquid　or

solid。〃　　But；　looking　directly　down　into　our　waters　from　a　boat；

they　are　seen　to　be　of　very　different　colors。　　Walden　is　blue　at　one

time　and　green　at　another；　even　from　the　same　point　of　view。　　Lying

between　the　earth　and　the　heavens；　it　partakes　of　the　color　of　both。

Viewed　from　a　hilltop　it　reflects　the　color　of　the　sky；　but　near　at

hand　it　is　of　a　yellowish　tint　next　the　shore　where　you　can　see　the

sand；　then　a　light　green；　which　gradually　deepens　to　a　uniform　dark

green　in　the　body　of　the　pond。　　In　some　lights；　viewed　even　from　a

hilltop；　it　is　of　a　vivid　green　next　the　shore。　　Some　have　referred

this　to　the　reflection　of　the　verdure；　but　it　is　equally　green　there

against　the　railroad　sandbank；　and　in　the　spring；　before　the　leaves

are　expanded；　and　it　may　be　simply　the　result　of　the　prevailing　blue

mixed　with　the　yellow　of　the　sand。　　Such　is　the　color　of　its　iris。

This　is　that　portion；　also；　where　in　the　spring；　the　ice　being

warmed　by　the　heat　of　the　sun　reflected　from　the　bottom；　and　also

transmitted　through　the　earth；　melts　first　and　forms　a　narrow　canal

about　the　still　frozen　middle。　　Like　the　rest　of　our　waters；　when

much　agitated；　in　clear　weather；　so　that　the　surface　of　the　waves

may　reflect　the　sky　at　the　right　angle；　or　because　there　is　more

light　mixed　with　it；　it　appears　at　a　little　distance　of　a　darker

blue　than　the　sky　itself；　and　at　such　a　time；　being　on　its　surface；

and　looking　with　divided　vision；　so　as　to　see　the　reflection；　I　have

discerned　a　matchless　and　indescribable　light　blue；　such　as　watered

or　changeable　silks　and　sword　blades　suggest；　more　cerulean　than　the

sky　itself；　alternating　with　the　original　dark　green　on　the　opposite

sides　of　the　waves；　which　last　appeared　but　muddy　in　comparison。　　It

is　a　vitreous　greenish　blue；　as　I　remember　it；　like　those　patches　of

the　winter　sky　seen　through　cloud　vistas　in　the　west　before　sundown。

Yet　a　single　glass　of　its　water　held　up　to　the　light　is　as　colorless

as　an　equal　quantity　of　air。　　It　is　well　known　that　a　large　plate　of

glass　will　have　a　green　tint；　owing；　as　the　makers　say；　to　its

〃body；〃　but　a　small　piece　of　the　same　will　be　colorless。　　How　large

a　body　of　Walden　water　would　be　required　to　reflect　a　green　tint　I

have　never　proved。　　The　water　of　our　river　is　black　or　a　very　dark

brown　to　one　looking　directly　down　on　it；　and；　like　that　of　most

ponds；　imparts　to　the　body　of　one　bathing　in　it　a　yellowish　tinge；

but　this　water　is　of　such　crystalline　purity　that　the　body　of　the

bather　appears　of　an　alabaster　whiteness；　still　more　unnatural；

which；　as　the　limbs　are　magnified　and　distorted　withal；　produces　a

monstrous　effect；　making　fit　studies　for　a　Michael　Angelo。

　　　　The　water　is　so　transparent　that　the　bottom　can　easily　be

discerned　at　the　depth　of　twenty…five　or　thirty　feet。　　Paddling　over

it；　you　may　see；　many　feet　beneath　the　surface；　the　schools　of　perch

and　shiners；　perhaps　only　an　inch　long；　yet　the　former　easily

distinguished　by　their　transverse　bars；　and　you　think　that　they　must

be　ascetic　fish　that　find　a　subsistence　there。　　Once；　in　the　winter；

many　years　ago；　when　I　had　been　cutting　holes　through　the　ice　in

order　to　catch　pickerel；　as　I　stepped　ashore　I　tossed　my　axe　back　on

to　the　ice；　but；　as　if　some　evil　genius　had　directed　it；　it　slid

four　or　five　rods　directly　into　one　of　the　holes；　where　the　water

was　twenty…five　feet　deep。　　Out　of　curiosity；　I　lay　down　on　the　ice

and　looked　through　the　hole；　until　I　saw　the　axe　a　little　on　one

side；　standing　on　its　head；　with　its　helve　erect　and　gently　swaying

to　and　fro　with　the　pulse　of　the　pond；　and　there　it　mig