I weathered some merry snow-storms， and spent some cheerful winter evenings by my fireside， while the snow whirled wildly without， and even the hooting of the owl was hushed.  For many weeks I met no one in my walks but those who came occasionally to cut wood and sled it to the village.  The elements， however， abetted me in making a path through the deepest snow in the woods， for when I had once gone through the wind blew the oak leaves into my tracks， where they lodged， and by absorbing the rays of the sun melted the snow，and so not only made a my bed for my feet， but in the night their dark line was my guide.  For human society I was obliged to conjure up the former occupants of these woods.  Within the memory of many of my townsmen the road near which my house stands resounded with the laugh and gossip of inhabitants， and the woods which border it were notched and dotted here and there with their little gardens and dwellings， though it was then much more shut in by the forest than now.  In some places， within my own remembrance， the pines would scrape both sides of a chaise at once， and women and children who were compelled to go this way to Lincoln alone and on foot did it with fear， and often ran a good part of the distance.  Though mainly but a humble route to neighboring villages， or for the woodman's team， it once amused the traveller more than now by its variety， and lingered longer in his memory.  Where now firm open fields stretch from the village to the woods， it then ran through a maple swamp on a foundation of logs， the remnants of which， doubtless， still underlie the present dusty highway， from the Stratton， now the Alms-House Farm， to Brister's Hill. East of my bean-field， across the road， lived Cato Ingraham，slave of Duncan Ingraham， Esquire， gentleman， of Concord village，who built his slave a house， and gave him permission to live in Walden Woods； ―― Cato， not Uticensis， but Concordiensis.  Some say that he was a Guinea Negro.  There are a few who remember his little patch among the walnuts， which he let grow up till he should be old and need them； but a younger and whiter speculator got them at last. He too， however， occupies an equally narrow house at present. Cato's half-obliterated cellar-hole still remains， though known to few， being concealed from the traveller by a fringe of pines.  It is now filled with the smooth sumach （Rhus glabra）， and one of the earliest species of goldenrod （Solidago stricta） grows there luxuriantly. Here， by the very corner of my field， still nearer to town，Zilpha， a colored woman， had her little house， where she spun linen for the townsfolk， making the Walden Woods ring with her shrill singing， for she had a loud and notable voice.  At length， in the war of 1812， her dwelling was set on fire by English soldiers，prisoners on parole， when she was away， and her cat and dog and hens were all burned up together.  She led a hard life， and somewhat inhumane.  One old frequenter of these woods remembers， that as he passed her house one noon he heard her muttering to herself over her gurgling pot ―― "Ye are all bones， bones！"  I have seen bricks amid the oak copse there.

　　我遭逢了幾次快樂的風雪，在火爐邊度過了一些愉快的冬夜，那時外面風雪狂放地旋轉，便是梟鷹的叫聲也給壓下去了。好幾個星期以來，我的散步中沒有遇到過一個人，除非那些偶爾到林中來伐木的，他們用雪車把木料載走了。然而那些大風大雪卻教會我從林中積雪深處開辟出一條路徑來，因為有一次我走過去以后，風把一些橡樹葉子吹到了被我踏過的地方；它們留在那里，吸收了太陽光，而溶去了積雪，這樣我不但腳下有了干燥的路可走，而且到晚上，它們的黑色線條可以給我引路。至于與人交往，我不能不念念有辭，召回舊日的林中居民。照我那個鄉鎮上許多居民的記憶，我屋子附近那條路上曾響徹了居民的閑談與笑聲，而兩旁的森林，到處斑斑點點，都曾經有他們的小花園和小住宅，雖然當時的森林，比起現在來，還要濃密得多。在有些地方，我自己都記得的，濃密的松材摩擦著輕便馬車的兩側；不得不單獨地步行到林肯去的女人和孩子，經過這里往往害怕得不得了，甚至狂奔上一段路。雖然主要他說來，這是到鄰村去的一條微不足道的小徑，或者說是只有樵夫在走的，但是它曾經迷惑了一些旅行家，當時它的花明柳暗，比現下更要豐富，在記憶之中也更可留戀。現在從村子到森林中間有一大片空曠的原野，當時是一個楓樹林的沼澤地區，許多的木料是那里的小徑的基礎，現在成了多塵土的公路了，從現在已經是濟貧院的斯特拉登，經過田莊，一直通到勃立斯特山的公路下，無疑還找得到它的痕跡。

　　在我的豆田之東，路的那一邊，卡托。殷格拉漢姆曾居住過，他是康科德的鄉紳鄧肯。殷格拉漢姆老爺的奴隸；他給他的奴隸造了一座房子，還允許他住在瓦爾登林中，――這個卡托不是尤蒂卡的那個，而是康科德人。有人說他是幾內亞的黑人。有少數人還記得他胡桃林中的一塊小地，他將它培育成林了，希望老了以后，需要的時候可以有用處；一個年輕白種人的投機家后來買下了它。現在他也有一所狹長的房子。卡托的那個半已消失無蹤的地窖窟窿至今還在，卻很少人知道了，因為有一行松樹遮去了旅行家的視線。現在那里滿是平滑的黃櫨樹（學名Rhusglabra），還有很原始的一種黃色紫苑（學名Solidagostricta），也在那里很茂郁地生長著。

　　就在我的豆田轉角的地方，離鄉鎮更近了，一個黑種女人席爾發有著她的一幢小房屋，她在那里給地方上人織細麻布，她有一個響亮激越的嗓子，唱得瓦爾登林中口蕩著她的尖銳的歌聲。最后，一八一二年，她的住宅給一些英國兵燒掉了，他們是一些假釋的俘虜，那時恰巧她不在家，她的貓、狗和老母雞一起都給燒死了。她過的生活很艱苦，幾乎是不像人過的。有個在這森林中可稱為常客的老者還記得，某一個午間他經過她的家，他聽到她在對著沸騰的壺喃喃自語，――“你們全是骨頭，骨頭啊！”我還看見過橡樹林中留存著的磚頭。

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