In such a day， in September or October， Walden is a perfect forest mirror， set round with stones as precious to my eye as if fewer or rarer.  Nothing so fair， so pure， and at the same time so large， as a lake， perchance， lies on the surface of the earth.  Sky water.  It needs no fence.  Nations come and go without defiling it. It is a mirror which no stone can crack， whose quicksilver will never wear off， whose gilding Nature continually repairs； no storms，no dust， can dim its surface ever fresh； ―― a mirror in which all impurity presented to it sinks， swept and dusted by the sun's hazy brush ―― this the light dust-cloth ―― which retains no breath that is breathed on it， but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface， and be reflected in its bosom still.

　　A field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air.  It is continually receiving new life and motion from above.  It is intermediate in its nature between land and sky.  On land only the grass and trees wave， but the water itself is rippled by the wind. I see where the breeze dashes across it by the streaks or flakes of light.  It is remarkable that we can look down on its surface.  We shall， perhaps， look down thus on the surface of air at length， and mark where a still subtler spirit sweeps over it. The skaters and water-bugs finally disappear in the latter part of October， when the severe frosts have come； and then and in November， usually， in a calm day， there is absolutely nothing to ripple the surface.  One November afternoon， in the calm at the end of a rain-storm of several days' duration， when the sky was still completely overcast and the air was full of mist， I observed that the pond was remarkably smooth， so that it was difficult to distinguish its surface； though it no longer reflected the bright tints of October， but the sombre November colors of the surrounding hills.  Though I passed over it as gently as possible， the slight undulations produced by my boat extended almost as far as I could see， and gave a ribbed appearance to the reflections.  But， as I was looking over the surface， I saw here and there at a distance a faint glimmer， as if some skater insects which had escaped the frosts might be collected there， or， perchance， the surface， being so smooth， betrayed where a spring welled up from the bottom.  Paddling gently to one of these places， I was surprised to find myself surrounded by myriads of small perch， about five inches long， of a rich bronze color in the green water， sporting there， and constantly rising to the surface and dimpling it， sometimes leaving bubbles on it.  In such transparent and seemingly bottomless water， reflecting the clouds， I seemed to be floating through the air as in a balloon，and their swimming impressed me as a kind of flight or hovering， as if they were a compact flock of birds passing just beneath my level on the right or left， their fins， like sails， set all around them. There were many such schools in the pond， apparently improving the short season before winter would draw an icy shutter over their broad skylight， sometimes giving to the surface an appearance as if a slight breeze struck it， or a few rain-drops fell there.  When I approached carelessly and alarmed them， they made a sudden splash and rippling with their tails， as if one had struck the water with a brushy bough， and instantly took refuge in the depths.  At length the wind rose， the mist increased， and the waves began to run， and the perch leaped much higher than before， half out of water， a hundred black points， three inches long， at once above the surface. Even as late as the fifth of December， one year， I saw some dimples on the surface， and thinking it was going to rain hard immediately，the air being fun of mist， I made haste to take my place at the oars and row homeward； already the rain seemed rapidly increasing， though I felt none on my cheek， and I anticipated a thorough soaking.  But suddenly the dimples ceased， for they were produced by the perch，which the noise of my oars had seared into the depths， and I saw their schools dimly disappearing； so I spent a dry afternoon after all.

　　在這樣的一天里，九月或十月，瓦爾登是森林的一面十全十美的明鏡，它四面用石子鑲邊，我看它們是珍貴而稀世的。再沒有什么像這一個躺臥在大地表面的湖沼這樣美，這樣純潔，同時又這樣大。秋水長天。它不需要一個籬笆。民族來了，去了，都不能玷污它。這一面明鏡，石子敲不碎它，它的水銀永遠擦不掉，它的外表的裝飾，大自然經常地在那里彌補；沒有風暴，沒有塵垢，能使它常新的表面黯淡無光；――這一面鏡子，如果有任何不潔落在它面上，馬上就沉淀，太陽的霧意的刷子常在拂拭它，――這是光的拭塵布，――呵氣在上，也留不下形跡，成了云它就從水面飄浮到高高的空中，卻又立刻把它反映在它的胸懷中了。

　　空中的精靈也都逃不過這一片大水。它經常地從上空接受新的生命和新的動作。湖是大地和天空之間的媒介物。在大地上，只有草木是搖擺如波浪的，可是水自身給風吹出了漣漪來。我可以從一線或一片閃光上，看到風從那里吹過去。我們能俯視水波，真是了不起。也許我們還應該像這樣細細地俯視那天空的表面，看看是不是有一種更精細的精靈，在它上面掃過。

　　到了十月的后半個月，掠水蟲和水蝎終于不再出現了，嚴霜已經來到；于是在十一月中，通常在一個好天氣里，沒有任何東西在水面上激起漣漪。十一月中的一個下午，已經一連降落了幾天的雨終于停止了，天空還全部都是陰沉沉的，充滿了霧，我發現湖水是出奇地平靜，因此簡直就看不出它的表面來了，雖然它不再反映出十月份的光輝色彩，它卻反映出了四周小山的十一月的陰暗顏色。于是我盡可能地輕輕靜靜，泛舟湖上，而船尾激起的微弱水波還一直延伸到我的視野之外，湖上的倒影也就曲折不已了。可是，當我望望水面，我遠遠地看到這里那里有一種微光，仿佛一些躲過了嚴霜的掠水蟲又在集合了，或許是湖的平面太平靜了，因此水底有涌起的泉源不知不覺也能在水面覺察到。

　　劃槳到了那些地方，我才驚奇地發現我自己已給成億萬的小鱸魚圍住，都只五英寸長；綠水中有了華麗的銅色，它們在那里嬉戲著，經常地升到水面來，給水面一些小小水渦，有時還留一些小小水泡在上面。在這樣透明的、似乎無底的、反映了云彩的水中，我好像坐了輕氣球而漂浮在空中，鱸魚的游泳又是多么像在盤旋、飛翔，仿佛它們成了一群飛鳥，就在我所處的高度下，或左或右地飛繞；它們的鰭，像帆一樣，飽滿地張掛著。

　　在這個湖中有許多這樣的水族，顯然它們要改進一下，在冬天降下冰幕，遮去它們的天光之前的那個短暫的季節，有時候那被它們激蕩的水波，好像有一陣微風吹過，或者像有一陣溫和的小雨點落下。等到我漫不經心地接近它們；它們驚慌起來，突然尾巴橫掃，激起水花，好像有人用一根毛刷般的樹枝鞭撻了水波，立刻它們都躲到深水底下去了。

　　后來，風吹得緊了，霧也濃重了，水波開始流動，鱸魚跳躍得比以前更高，半條魚身已跳出水面，一下子跳了起來，成百個黑點，都有三英寸長。有一年，一直到十二月五號，我還看到水面上有水渦，我以為馬上就會下大雨了，空中彌漫著霧，我急忙忙地坐在劃槳的座位上，劃回家去：雨點已經越來越大了，但是我不覺得雨點打在我的面頰上，其時我以為我兔不了要全身濕透。可是突然間水渦全部沒有了，原來這都是鱸魚攪出來的，我的槳聲終于把它們嚇退到深水中去；我看到它們成群結隊地消隱！這天下午我全身一直是干燥的呢。

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