瓦爾登湖:Former Inhabitants and Winter Visitors4

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　　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.

　　現在只有一個凹痕，作這些住宅的記認，地窖中的石頭深深陷下，而草毒、木莓、覆盆子、榛樹和黃櫨樹卻一起在向陽的草地上生長；煙囪那個角落現在給蒼松或多節的橡樹占去了，原來是門檻的地方，也許還搖曳著一技馥郁的黑楊樹。有時，一口井的凹痕看得很清楚，從前這里有泉水，現在是干燥無淚的草；也許它給長草遮蔽了，――要日久以后才有人來發現，――長草之下有一塊扁平的石頭，那是他們中間最后離開的一個人搬過來的。把井遮蓋起來――這是何等悲哀的一件事！與它同時，淚泉開始涌流了。

　　這些地窖的凹痕，像一些被遺棄了的狐貍洞，古老的窟窿，是這里曾經有過熙熙攘攘的人類的遺跡，他們當時多少也曾經用不同的形式，不同的方言討論過，什么“命運、自由意志、絕對的預知”，等等。但是據我所知，他們所討論的結果便是這個，“卡托和勃立斯特拉過羊毛”；這跟比較著名的哲學流派的歷史同樣地富于啟發。

　　而在門框，門楣，門檻都消失了一世代之后，生機勃勃的丁香花還是生長著，每年春天展開它的芳香的花朵，給沉思的旅行者去摘；從前是一雙小孩子的手種下的，在屋前的院子里――現在都生在無人跡的牧場上的墻腳邊，并且讓位給新興的森林了；――那些了香是這一個家庭的唯一的幸存者，孑然一遺民。那些黑皮膚的小孩子料想不到，他們在屋前陰影里插在地上的只有兩個芽眼的細枝，經過他們天天澆水，居然扎下這么深的根，活得比他們還長久，比在后面蔭蔽了它們的屋子還長久，甚至比大人的花園果園還長久，在他們長大而又死去之后，又是半個世紀了，而丁香花卻還在把他們的故事敘述給一個孤獨的旅行者聽，――而它們的花朵開得何等地美，香味何等甜蜜，正如在第一個春天里一樣。我看到了依然柔和、謙遜而愉快的丁香結的色彩。

　　可是這一個小村落，應該是可以發展的一個幼芽，為什么康科德還在老地方，它卻失敗了呢？難道沒有天時地利，――譬如說，水利不好嗎？啊，瓦爾登之深，勃立斯特泉水之冷，――何等豐富，喝了何等有益于健康，可是除了用來把他們的酒沖淡之外，這些人絲毫沒有加以利用。他們都只是些口渴的家伙。為什么編籃子，做馬棚掃帚，編席子，曬干包谷，織細麻布，制陶器，這些營生在這兒不能發展，使荒原像玫瑰花一樣開放，為什么又沒有子子孫孫來繼承他們祖先的土地呢？磽薄的土地至少是抵擋得住低地的退化的。可嘆啊！這些人類居民的回憶對風景的美竟無貢獻！也許，大自然又要拿我來試試，叫我做第一個移民，讓我去年春天建立的屋子成為這個村子的最古老的建筑。

　　我不知道在我占用的土地上，以前有什么人建筑過房屋。不要讓我住在一個建筑于古城之上的城市中，它以廢墟為材料，以墓地為園林。那里的土地已經驚惶失色，已經受到詛咒，而在這些成為事實之前，大地本身恐怕也要毀滅了。有這樣的回憶在心頭，我重新把這些人安置在森林中，以此催我自己入眠。

　　在這種季節里，我那兒難得有客人來。當積雪最深的時候，往往一連一星期，甚至半個月都沒有一個人走近我的屋子，可是我生活得很舒服，像草原上的一只老鼠或者牛，或者雞，據說它們即使長時期地埋葬在積雪中，沒有食物吃，也能活下去哩；或者，我像本州的薩頓城中，那最早的一家移民，據說在一七一七年的大雪中，他自己不在家，可是大雪全部蓋沒了他的草屋，后來幸虧一個印第安人，認出了煙囪中噴出的熱氣在積雪中化出的一個窟窿，才把他的一家人救了出來。可是沒有友好的印第安友人來關心我了，他也不必，因為屋子的主人現在在家里。大雪！聽來這是多么的愉快啊！農夫們不能帶了他們的驢馬到森林或沼澤中來，他們不能不把門口那些遮蔽日光的樹木砍伐下來了，而當積雪堅硬了，他們來到沼澤地區砍了一些樹，到第二年春天去看看，他們是在離地面十英尺高的地方砍下了那些樹的。

　　積雪最深時，從公路到我家有半英里長的那條路，好像是迂回曲折的虛線，每兩點之間都有很大的空白。一連平靜一星期的天氣中，我總是跨出同樣的步數，同樣大小的步伐，謹慎地行走，像一只兩腳規一樣地準確，老在我自己的深深的足印上，――冬天把我們局限在這樣的路線上了，――可是這些足印往往反映出天空的蔚藍色。其實不管什么天氣，都沒有致命地阻撓過我的步行，或者說，我的出門，因為我常常在最深的積雪之中，步行八英里或十英里，專為了踐約，我和一株山毛櫸，或一株黃楊，或松林中的一個舊相識，是定了約會時間的，那時冰雪壓得它們的四肢都掛下來了，樹頂就更尖，松樹的樣子倒像鐵杉木；有時，我跋涉在兩英尺深的積雪中，到了最高的山頂，我每跨一步，都得把我頭頂上的一大團雪搖落下來；有幾次我索性手腳都撲在地上爬行了，因為我知道獵戶都躲在家里過冬天。有一個下午，我饒有興味地觀察一個有條紋的貓頭鷹（學名Strixnebulosa），它坐在一株白松的下面的枯枝上，靠近了樹干，在光天化日之下，我站在高它不到一桿的地方，當我移動時，步履踏在雪上的聲音，它可以聽到的，可是它看不清我。我發出了很大的聲音來，它就伸伸脖子，豎起了它頸上的羽毛，睜大了眼睛；可是，立刻它又把眼皮闔上了，開始點頭打瞌睡了。這樣觀察了半個小時之后，我自己也睡意蒙

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瓦爾登湖:Former Inhabitants and Winter Visitors4