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1Standing on the smooth sandy beach at the east end of the pond, in a calm September afternoon, when a slight haze makes
2the opposite shore line indistinct, I have seen whence came the expression, "the glassy surface of a lake." When you
3invert your head, it looks like a thread of finest gossamer stretched across the valley, and gleaming against the
4distant pine woods, separating one stratum of the atmosphere from another. You would think that you could walk dry under
5it to the opposite hills, and that the swallows which skim over might perch on it. Indeed, they sometimes dive below
6this line, as it were by mistake, and are undeceived. As you look over the pond westward you are obliged to employ both
7your hands to defend your eyes against the reflected as well as the true sun, for they are equally bright; and if,
8between the two, you survey its surface critically, it is literally as smooth as glass, except where the skater insects,
9at equal intervals scattered over its whole extent, by their motions in the sun produce the finest imaginable sparkle on
10it, 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
11the distance a fish describes an arc of three or four feet in the air, and there is one bright flash where it emerges,
12and another where it strikes the water; sometimes the whole silvery arc is revealed; or here and there, perhaps, is a
13thistle-down floating on its surface, which the fishes dart at and so dimple it again. It is like molten glass cooled
14but not congealed, and the few motes in it are pure and beautiful like the imperfections in glass. You may often detect
15a yet smoother and darker water, separated from the rest as if by an invisible cobweb, boom of the water nymphs, resting
16on it. From a hill-top you can see a fish leap in almost any part; for not a pickerel or shiner picks an insect from
17this smooth surface but it manifestly disturbs the equilibrium of the whole lake. It is wonderful with what
18elaborateness this simple fact is advertised,--this piscine murder will out,--and from my distant perch I distinguish
19the circling undulations when they are half a dozen rods in diameter. You can even detect a water-bug (Gyrinus)
20ceaselessly progressing over the smooth surface a quarter of a mile off; for they furrow the water slightly, making a
21conspicuous ripple bounded by two diverging lines, but the skaters glide over it without rippling it perceptibly. When
22the surface is considerably agitated there are no skaters nor water-bugs on it, but apparently, in calm days, they leave
23their havens and adventurously glide forth from the shore by short impulses till they completely cover it. It is a
24soothing employment, on one of those fine days in the fall when all the warmth of the sun is fully appreciated, to sit
25on a stump on such a height as this, overlooking the pond, and study the dimpling circles which are incessantly
26inscribed on its otherwise invisible surface amid the reflected skies and trees. Over this great expanse there is no
27disturbance but it is thus at once gently smoothed away and assuaged, as, when a vase of water is jarred, the trembling
28circles seek the shore and all is smooth again. Not a fish can leap or an insect fall on the pond but it is thus
29reported in circling dimples, in lines of beauty, as it were the constant welling up of its fountain, the gentle pulsing
30of its life, the heaving of its breast. The thrills of joy and thrills of pain are undistinguishable. How peaceful the
31phenomena of the lake! Again the works of man shine as in the spring. Ay, every leaf and twig and stone and cobweb
32sparkles now at mid-afternoon as when covered with dew in a spring morning. Every motion of an oar or an insect produces
33a flash of light; and if an oar falls, how sweet the echo! In such a day, in September or October, Walden is a perfect
34forest mirror, set round with stones as precious to my eye as if fewer or rarer. Nothing so fair, so pure, and at the
35same time so large, as a lake, perchance, lies on the surface of the earth. Sky water. It needs no fence. Nations come
36and go without defiling it. It is a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver will never wear off, whose
37gilding Nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh;--a mirror in which all impurity
38presented to it sinks, swept and dusted by the sun's hazy brush,--this the light dust-cloth,--which retains no breath
39that is breathed on it, but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface, and be reflected in its bosom
40still. A field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air. It is continually receiving new life and motion from
41above. It is intermediate in its nature between land and sky. On land only the grass and trees wave, but the water
42itself is rippled by the wind. I see where the breeze dashes across it by the streaks or flakes of light. It is
43remarkable that we can look down on its surface. We shall, perhaps, look down thus on the surface of air at length, and
44mark where a still subtler spirit sweeps over it. The skaters and water-bugs finally disappear in the latter part of
45October, when the severe frosts have come; and then and in November, usually, in a calm day, there is absolutely nothing
46to ripple the surface. One November afternoon, in the calm at the end of a rain storm of several days' duration, when
47the sky was still completely overcast and the air was full of mist, I observed that the pond was remarkably smooth, so
48that it was difficult to distinguish its surface; though it no longer reflected the bright tints of October, but the
49sombre November colors of the surrounding hills. Though I passed over it as gently as possible, the slight undulations
50produced by my boat extended almost as far as I could see, and gave a ribbed appearance to the reflections. But, as I
51was looking over the surface, I saw here and there at a distance a faint glimmer, as if some skater insects which had
52escaped the frosts might be collected there, or, perchance, the surface, being so smooth, betrayed where a spring welled
53up from the bottom. Paddling gently to one of these places, I was surprised to find myself surrounded by myriads of
54small perch, about five inches long, of a rich bronze color in the green water, sporting there, and constantly rising to
55the surface and dimpling it, sometimes leaving bubbles on it. In such transparent and seemingly bottomless water,
56reflecting the clouds, I seemed to be floating through the air as in a balloon, and their swimming impressed me as a
57kind of flight or hovering, as if they were a compact flock of birds passing just beneath my level on the right or left,
58their fins, like sails, set all around them. There were many such schools in the pond, apparently improving the short
59season before winter would draw an icy shutter over their broad skylight, sometimes giving to the surface an appearance
60as if a slight breeze struck it, or a few rain-drops fell there. When I approached carelessly and alarmed them, they
61made a sudden splash and rippling with their tails, as if one had struck the water with a brushy bough, and instantly
62took refuge in the depths. At length the wind rose, the mist increased, and the waves began to run, and the perch leaped
63much higher than before, half out of water, a hundred black points, three inches long, at once above the surface. Even
64as late as the fifth of December, one year, I saw some dimples on the surface, and thinking it was going to rain hard
65immediately, the air being full of mist, I made haste to take my place at the oars and row homeward; already the rain
66seemed rapidly increasing, though I felt none on my cheek, and I anticipated a thorough soaking. But suddenly the
67dimples ceased, for they were depths, and I saw their schools dimly disappearing; so I spent a dry afternoon after all.
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