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1After a still winter night I awoke with the impression that some question had been put to me, which I had been
2endeavoring in vain to answer in my sleep, as what--how--when--where? But there was dawning Nature, in whom all
3creatures live, looking in at my broad windows with serene and satisfied face, and no question on her lips. I awoke to
4an answered question, to Nature and daylight. The snow lying deep on the earth dotted with young pines, and the very
5slope of the hill on which my house is placed, seemed to say, Forward! Nature puts no question and answers none which we
6mortals ask. She has long ago taken her resolution. "O Prince, our eyes contemplate with admiration and transmit to the
7soul the wonderful and varied spectacle of this universe. The night veils without doubt a part of this glorious
8creation; but day comes to reveal to us this great work, which extends from earth even into the plains of the ether."
9Then to my morning work. First I take an axe and pail and go in search of water, if that be not a dream. After a cold
10and snowy night it needed a divining rod to find it. Every winter the liquid and trembling surface of the pond, which
11was so sensitive to every breath, and reflected every light and shadow, becomes solid to the depth of a foot or a foot
12and a half, so that it will support the heaviest teams, and perchance the snow covers it to an equal depth, and it is
13not to be distinguished from any level field. Like the marmots in the surrounding hills, it closes its eye-lids and
14becomes dormant for three months or more. Standing on the snow-covered plain, as if in a pasture amid the hills, I cut
15my way first through a foot of snow, and then a foot of ice, and open a window under my feet, where, kneeling to drink,
16I look down into the quiet parlor of the fishes, pervaded by a softened light as through a window of ground glass, with
17its bright sanded floor the same as in summer; there a perennial waveless serenity reigns as in the amber twilight sky,
18corresponding to the cool and even temperament of the inhabitants. Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.
19Early in the morning, while all things are crisp with frost, men come with fishing reels and slender lunch, and let down
20their fine lines through the snowy field to take pickerel and perch; wild men, who instinctively follow other fashions
21and trust other authorities than their townsmen, and by their goings and comings stitch towns together in parts where
22else they would be ripped. They sit and eat their luncheon in stout fear-naughts on the dry oak leaves on the shore, as
23wise in natural lore as the citizen is in artificial. They never consulted with books, and know and can tell much less
24than they have done. The things which they practise are said not yet to be known. Here is one fishing for pickerel with
25grown perch for bait. You look into his pail with wonder as into a summer pond, as if he kept summer locked up at home,
26or knew where she had retreated. How, pray, did he get these in mid-winter? O, he got worms out of rotten logs since the
27ground froze, and so he caught them. His life itself passes deeper in Nature than the studies of the naturalist
28penetrate; himself a subject for the naturalist. The latter raises the moss and bark gently with his knife in search of
29insects; the former lays open logs to their core with his axe, and moss and bark fly far and wide. He gets his living by
30barking trees. Such a man has some right to fish, and I love to see Nature carried out in him. The perch swallows the
31grub-worm, the pickerel swallows the perch, and the fisher-man swallows the pickerel; and so all the chinks in the scale
32of being are filled. When I strolled around the pond in misty weather I was sometimes amused by the primitive mode which
33some ruder fisherman had adopted. He would perhaps have placed alder branches over the narrow holes in the ice, which
34were four or five rods apart and an equal distance from the shore, and having fastened the end of the line to a stick to
35prevent its being pulled through, have passed the slack line over a twig of the alder, a foot or more above the ice, and
36tied a dry oak leaf to it, which, being pulled down, would show when he had a bite. These alders loomed through the mist
37at regular intervals as you walked half way round the pond. Ah, the pickerel of Walden! when I see them lying on the
38ice, or in the well which the fisherman cuts in the ice, making a little hole to admit the water, I am always surprised
39by their rare beauty, as if they were fabulous fishes, they are so foreign to the streets, even to the woods, foreign as
40Arabia to our Concord life. They possess a quite dazzling and transcendent beauty which separates them by a wide
41interval from the cadaverous cod and haddock whose fame is trumpeted in our streets. They are not green like the pines,
42nor gray like the stones, nor blue like the sky; but they have, to my eyes, if possible, yet rarer colors, like flowers
43and precious stones, as if they were the pearls, the animalized nuclei or crystals of the Walden water. They, of course,
44are Walden all over and all through; are themselves small Waldens in the animal kingdom, Waldenses. It is surprising
45that they are caught here,--that in this deep and capacious spring, far beneath the rattling teams and chaises and
46tinkling sleighs that travel the Walden road, this great gold and emerald fish swims. I never chanced to see its kind in
47any market; it would be the cynosure of all eyes there. Easily, with a few convulsive quirks, they give up their watery
48ghosts, like a mortal translated before his time to the thin air of heaven. waldenpondmap As I was desirous to recover
49the long lost bottom of Walden Pond, I surveyed it carefully, before the ice broke up, early in '46, with compass and
50chain and sounding line. There have been many stories told about the bottom, or rather no bottom, of this pond, which
51certainly had no foundation for themselves. It is remarkable how long men will believe in the bottomlessness of a pond
52without taking the trouble to sound it. I have visited two such Bottomless Ponds in one walk in this neighborhood. Many
53have believed that Walden reached quite through to the other side of the globe. Some who have lain flat on the ice for a
54long time, looking down through the illusive medium, perchance with watery eyes into the bargain, and driven to hasty
55conclusions by the fear of catching cold in their breasts, have seen vast holes "into which a load of hay might be
56driven," if there were any body to drive it, the undoubted source of the Styx and entrance to the Infernal Regions from
57these parts. Others have gone down from the village with a "fifty-six" and a wagon load of inch rope, but yet have
58failed to find any bottom; for while the "fifty-six" was resting by the way, they were paying out the rope in the vain
59attempt to fathom their truly immeasurable capacity for marvellousness. But I can assure my readers that Walden has a
60reasonably tight bottom at a not unreasonable, though at an unusual, depth. I fathomed it easily with a cod-line and a
61stone weighing about a pound and a half, and could tell accurately when the stone left the bottom, by having to pull so
62much harder before the water got underneath to help me. The greatest depth was exactly one hundred and two feet; to
63which may be added the five feet which it has risen since, making one hundred and seven. This is a remarkable depth for
64so small an area; yet not an inch of it can be spared by the imagination. What if all ponds were shallow? Would it not
65react on the minds of men? I am thankful that this pond was made deep and pure for a symbol. While men believe in the
66infinite some ponds will be thought to be bottomless.
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