14-former inhabitants and winter visitors-第2节

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The　house　being　gone；　he　looked　at　what　there　was　left。　　He　was

soothed　by　the　sympathy　which　my　mere　presence；　implied；　and　showed

me；　as　well　as　the　darkness　permitted；　where　the　well　was　covered

up；　which；　thank　Heaven；　could　never　be　burned；　and　he　groped　long

about　the　wall　to　find　the　well…sweep　which　his　father　had　cut　and

mounted；　feeling　for　the　iron　hook　or　staple　by　which　a　burden　had

been　fastened　to　the　heavy　end　　all　that　he　could　now　cling　to　

to　convince　me　that　it　was　no　common　〃rider。〃　　I　felt　it；　and　still

remark　it　almost　daily　in　my　walks；　for　by　it　hangs　the　history　of　a

family。

　　　　Once　more；　on　the　left；　where　are　seen　the　well　and　lilac　bushes

by　the　wall；　in　the　now　open　field；　lived　Nutting　and　Le　Grosse。

But　to　return　toward　Lincoln。

　　　　Farther　in　the　woods　than　any　of　these；　where　the　road

approaches　nearest　to　the　pond；　Wyman　the　potter　squatted；　and

furnished　his　townsmen　with　earthenware；　and　left　descendants　to

succeed　him。　　Neither　were　they　rich　in　worldly　goods；　holding　the

land　by　sufferance　while　they　lived；　and　there　often　the　sheriff

came　in　vain　to　collect　the　taxes；　and　〃attached　a　chip；〃　for　form's

sake；　as　I　have　read　in　his　accounts；　there　being　nothing　else　that

he　could　lay　his　hands　on。　　One　day　in　midsummer；　when　I　was　hoeing；

a　man　who　was　carrying　a　load　of　pottery　to　market　stopped　his　horse

against　my　field　and　inquired　concerning　Wyman　the　younger。　　He　had

long　ago　bought　a　potter's　wheel　of　him；　and　wished　to　know　what　had

become　of　him。　　I　had　read　of　the　potter's　clay　and　wheel　in

Scripture；　but　it　had　never　occurred　to　me　that　the　pots　we　use　were

not　such　as　had　come　down　unbroken　from　those　days；　or　grown　on

trees　like　gourds　somewhere；　and　I　was　pleased　to　hear　that　so

fictile　an　art　was　ever　practiced　in　my　neighborhood。

　　　　The　last　inhabitant　of　these　woods　before　me　was　an　Irishman；

Hugh　Quoil　（if　I　have　spelt　his　name　with　coil　enough）；　who　occupied

Wyman's　tenement　　Col。　Quoil；　he　was　called。　　Rumor　said　that　he

had　been　a　soldier　at　Waterloo。　　If　he　had　lived　I　should　have　made

him　fight　his　battles　over　again。　　His　trade　here　was　that　of　a

ditcher。　　Napoleon　went　to　St。　Helena；　Quoil　came　to　Walden　Woods。

All　I　know　of　him　is　tragic。　　He　was　a　man　of　manners；　like　one　who

had　seen　the　world；　and　was　capable　of　more　civil　speech　than　you

could　well　attend　to。　　He　wore　a　greatcoat　in　midsummer；　being

affected　with　the　trembling　delirium；　and　his　face　was　the　color　of

carmine。　　He　died　in　the　road　at　the　foot　of　Brister's　Hill　shortly

after　I　came　to　the　woods；　so　that　I　have　not　remembered　him　as　a

neighbor。　　Before　his　house　was　pulled　down；　when　his　comrades

avoided　it　as　〃an　unlucky　castle；〃　I　visited　it。　　There　lay　his　old

clothes　curled　up　by　use；　as　if　they　were　himself；　upon　his　raised

plank　bed。　　His　pipe　lay　broken　on　the　hearth；　instead　of　a　bowl

broken　at　the　fountain。　　The　last　could　never　have　been　the　symbol

of　his　death；　for　he　confessed　to　me　that；　though　he　had　heard　of

Brister's　Spring；　he　had　never　seen　it；　and　soiled　cards；　kings　of

diamonds；　spades；　and　hearts；　were　scattered　over　the　floor。　　One

black　chicken　which　the　administrator　could　not　catch；　black　as

night　and　as　silent；　not　even　croaking；　awaiting　Reynard；　still　went

to　roost　in　the　next　apartment。　　In　the　rear　there　was　the　dim

outline　of　a　garden；　which　had　been　planted　but　had　never　received

its　first　hoeing；　owing　to　those　terrible　shaking　fits；　though　it

was　now　harvest　time。　　It　was　overrun　with　Roman　wormwood　and

beggar…ticks；　which　last　stuck　to　my　clothes　for　all　fruit。　　The

skin　of　a　woodchuck　was　freshly　stretched　upon　the　back　of　the

house；　a　trophy　of　his　last　Waterloo；　but　no　warm　cap　or　mittens

would　he　want　more。

　　　　Now　only　a　dent　in　the　earth　marks　the　site　of　these　dwellings；

with　buried　cellar　stones；　and　strawberries；　raspberries；

thimble…berries；　hazel…bushes；　and　sumachs　growing　in　the　sunny

sward　there；　some　pitch　pine　or　gnarled　oak　occupies　what　was　the

chimney　nook；　and　a　sweet…scented　black　birch；　perhaps；　waves　where

the　door…stone　was。　　Sometimes　the　well　dent　is　visible；　where　once

a　spring　oozed；　now　dry　and　tearless　grass；　or　it　was　covered　deep

　not　to　be　discovered　till　some　late　day　　with　a　flat　stone

under　the　sod；　when　the　last　of　the　race　departed。　　What　a　sorrowful

act　must　that　be　　the　covering　up　of　wells！　coincident　with　the

opening　of　wells　of　tears。　　These　cellar　dents；　like　deserted　fox

burrows；　old　holes；　are　all　that　is　left　where　once　were　the　stir

and　bustle　of　human　life；　and　〃fate；　free　will；　foreknowledge

absolute；〃　in　some　form　and　dialect　or　other　were　by　turns

discussed。　　But　all　I　can　learn　of　their　conclusions　amounts　to　just

this；　that　〃Cato　and　Brister　pulled　wool〃；　which　is　about　as

edifying　as　the　history　of　more　famous　schools　of　philosophy。

　　　　Still　grows　the　vivacious　lilac　a　generation　after　the　door　and

lintel　and　the　sill　are　gone；　unfolding　its　sweet…scented　flowers

each　spring；　to　be　plucked　by　the　musing　traveller；　planted　and

tended　once　by　children's　hands；　in　front…yard　plots　　now　standing

by　wallsides　in　retired　pastures；　and　giving　place　to　new…rising

forests；　　the　last　of　that　stirp；　sole　survivor　of　that　family。

Little　did　the　dusky　children　think　that　the　puny　slip　with　its　two

eyes　only；　which　they　stuck　in　the　ground　in　the　shadow　of　the　house

and　daily　watered；　would　root　itself　so；　and　outlive　them；　and　house

itself　in　the　rear　that　shaded　it；　and　grown　man's　garden　and

orchard；　and　tell　their　story　faintly　to　the　lone　wanderer　a

half…century　after　they　had　grown　up　and　died　　blossoming　as　fair；

and　smelling　as　sweet；　as　in　that　first　spring。　　I　mark　its　still

tender；　civil；　cheerful　lilac　colors。

　　　　But　this　small　village；　germ　of　something　more；　why　did　it　fail

while　Concord　keeps　its　ground？　　Were　there　no　natural　advantages　

no　water　privileges；　forsooth？　　Ay；　the　deep　Walden　Pond　and　cool

Brister's　Spring　　privilege　to　drink　long　and　healthy　draughts　at

these；　all　unimproved　by　these　men　but　to　dilute　their　glass。　　They

were　universally　a　thirsty　race。　　Might　not　the　basket；

stable…broom；　mat…making；　corn…parching；　linen…spinning；　and　pottery

business　have　thrived　here；　making　the　wilderness　to　blossom　like

the　rose；　and　a　numerous　posterity　have　inherited　the　land　of　their

fathers？　　The　sterile　soil　would　at　least　have　been　proof　against　a

low…land　degeneracy。　　Alas！　how　little　does　the　memory　of　these

human　inhabitants　enhance　the　beauty　of　the　landscape！　　Again；

perhaps；　Nature　will　try；　with　me　for　a　first　settler；　and　my　house

raised　last　spring　to　be　the　oldest　in　the　hamlet。

　　　　I　am　not　aware　that　any　man　has　ever　built　on　the　spot　which　I

occupy。　　Deliver　me　from　a　city　built　on　the　site　of　a　more　ancient

city；　whose　materials　are　ruins；　whose　gardens　cemeteries。　　The　soil

is　blanched　and　accursed　there；　and　before　that　becomes　necessary

the　earth　itself　will　be　destroyed。　　With　such　reminiscences　I

repeopled　the　woods　and　lulled　myself　asleep。

　　　　At　this　season　I　seldom　had　a　visitor。　　When　the　snow　lay

deepest　no　wanderer　ventured　near　my　house　for　a　week　or　fortnight

at　a　time；　but　there　I　lived　as　snug　as　a　meadow　mouse；　or　as　cattle

and　poultry　which　are　said　to　have　survived　for　a　long　time　buried

in　drifts；　even　without　food；　or　like　that　early　settler's　family　in

the　town　of　Sutton；　in　this　State；　whose　cottage　was　completely

covered　by　the　great　snow　of　1717　when　he　was　absent；　and　an　Indian

found　it　only　by　the　hole　which　the　chimney's　breath　made　in　the

drift；　and　so　relieved　the　family。　　But　no　friendly　Indian　concerned

himself　about　me；　nor　needed　he；　for　the　master　of　the　house　was　at

home。　　The　Great　Snow！　　How　cheerful　it　is　to　hear　of！　　When　the

farmers　could　not　get　to　the　woods　and　swamps　with　their　teams；　and

were　obliged　to　cut　down　the　shade　trees　before　their　houses；　and；

when　the　crust　was　harder；　cut　off　the　trees　in　the　swamps；　ten　feet

from　the　ground；　as　it　appeared　the　next　spring。

　　　　In　the　deepest　snows；　the　path　which　I　used　from　the　highway　to

my　house；　about　half　a　mile　long；　might　have　been　represented　by　a

meandering　dotted　line；　with　wide　intervals　between　the　dots。　　For　a

week　of　even　weather　I　took　exactly　the　same　number　of　steps；　and　of

the　same　length；　coming　and　going；　stepping　deliberately　and　with

the　precision　of　a　pair　of　dividers　in　my　own　deep　tracks　　to　such

routine　the　winter　reduces　us　　yet　often　they　were　filled　with

heaven's　own　blue。　　But　no　weather　interfered　fatally　with　my　walks；

or　rather　my　going　abroad；　for　I　frequently　tramped　eight　or　ten

miles　through　the　deepest　snow　to　keep　an　appointment　with　a　beech

tree；　or　a　yellow　birch；　or　an　old　acquaintance　among　the　pines；

when　the　ice　and　snow　causing　their　limbs　to　droop；　and　so

sharpening　their　tops；　had　changed　the　pines　into　fir　trees；　wading

to　the　tops　of　the　highest　hi