Fartherinthewoodsthananyofthese，wheretheroadapproachesnearesttothepond，Wymanthepottersquatted，andfurnishedhistownsmenwithearthenware，andleftdescendantstosucceedhim。Neitherweretheyrichinworldlygoods，holdingthelandbysufferancewhiletheylived；andthereoftenthesheriffcameinvaintocollectthetaxes，and“attachedachip，“forform’ssake，asIhavereadinhisaccounts，therebeingnothingelsethathecouldlayhishandson。Onedayinmidsummer，whenIwashoeing，amanwhowascarryingaloadofpotterytomarketstoppedhishorseagainstmyfieldandinquiredconcerningWymantheyounger。Hehadlongagoboughtapotter’swheelofhim，andwishedtoknowwhathadbecomeofhim。Ihadreadofthepotter’sclayandwheelinScripture，butithadneveroccurredtomethatthepotsweusewerenotsuchashadcomedownunbrokenfromthosedays，orgrownontreeslikegourdssomewhere，andIwaspleasedtohearthatsofictileanartwaseverpracticedinmyneighborhood。
ThelastinhabitantofthesewoodsbeforemewasanIrishman，HughQuoilifIhavespelthisnamewithcoilenough，whooccupiedWyman’stenement——Col。Quoil，hewascalled。RumorsaidthathehadbeenasoldieratWaterloo。IfhehadlivedIshouldhavemadehimfighthisbattlesoveragain。Histradeherewasthatofaditcher。NapoleonwenttoSt。Helena；QuoilcametoWaldenWoods。
AllIknowofhimistragic。Hewasamanofmanners，likeonewhohadseentheworld，andwascapableofmorecivilspeechthanyoucouldwellattendto。Heworeagreatcoatinmidsummer，beingaffectedwiththetremblingdelirium，andhisfacewasthecolorofcarmine。HediedintheroadatthefootofBrister’sHillshortlyafterIcametothewoods，sothatIhavenotrememberedhimasaneighbor。Beforehishousewaspulleddown，whenhiscomradesavoideditas“anunluckycastle，“Ivisitedit。Therelayhisoldclothescurledupbyuse，asiftheywerehimself，uponhisraisedplankbed。Hispipelaybrokenonthehearth，insteadofabowlbrokenatthefountain。Thelastcouldneverhavebeenthesymbolofhisdeath，forheconfessedtomethat，thoughhehadheardofBrister’sSpring，hehadneverseenit；andsoiledcards，kingsofdiamonds，spades，andhearts，werescatteredoverthefloor。Oneblackchickenwhichtheadministratorcouldnotcatch，blackasnightandassilent，notevencroaking，awaitingReynard，stillwenttoroostinthenextapartment。Inthereartherewasthedimoutlineofagarden，whichhadbeenplantedbuthadneverreceiveditsfirsthoeing，owingtothoseterribleshakingfits，thoughitwasnowharvesttime。ItwasoverrunwithRomanwormwoodandbeggar-ticks，whichlaststucktomyclothesforallfruit。Theskinofawoodchuckwasfreshlystretcheduponthebackofthehouse，atrophyofhislastWaterloo；butnowarmcapormittenswouldhewantmore。
Nowonlyadentintheearthmarksthesiteofthesedwellings，withburiedcellarstones，andstrawberries，raspberries，thimble-berries，hazel-bushes，andsumachsgrowinginthesunnyswardthere；somepitchpineorgnarledoakoccupieswhatwasthechimneynook，andasweet-scentedblackbirch，perhaps，waveswherethedoor-stonewas。Sometimesthewelldentisvisible，whereonceaspringoozed；nowdryandtearlessgrass；oritwascovereddeep——nottobediscoveredtillsomelateday——withaflatstoneunderthesod，whenthelastoftheracedeparted。Whatasorrowfulactmustthatbe——thecoveringupofwells！coincidentwiththeopeningofwellsoftears。Thesecellardents，likedesertedfoxburrows，oldholes，areallthatisleftwhereoncewerethestirandbustleofhumanlife，and“fate，freewill，foreknowledgeabsolute，“insomeformanddialectorotherwerebyturnsdiscussed。ButallIcanlearnoftheirconclusionsamountstojustthis，that“CatoandBristerpulledwool“；whichisaboutasedifyingasthehistoryofmorefamousschoolsofphilosophy。
Stillgrowsthevivaciouslilacagenerationafterthedoorandlintelandthesillaregone，unfoldingitssweet-scentedflowerseachspring，tobepluckedbythemusingtraveller；plantedandtendedoncebychildren’shands，infront-yardplots——nowstandingbywallsidesinretiredpastures，andgivingplacetonew-risingforests；——thelastofthatstirp，solesurvivorofthatfamily。
Littledidtheduskychildrenthinkthatthepunyslipwithitstwoeyesonly，whichtheystuckinthegroundintheshadowofthehouseanddailywatered，wouldrootitselfso，andoutlivethem，andhouseitselfintherearthatshadedit，andgrownman’sgardenandorchard，andtelltheirstoryfaintlytothelonewandererahalf-centuryaftertheyhadgrownupanddied——blossomingasfair，andsmellingassweet，asinthatfirstspring。Imarkitsstilltender，civil，cheerfullilaccolors。
Butthissmallvillage，germofsomethingmore，whydiditfailwhileConcordkeepsitsground？Weretherenonaturaladvantages——
nowaterprivileges，forsooth？Ay，thedeepWaldenPondandcoolBrister’sSpring——privilegetodrinklongandhealthydraughtsatthese，allunimprovedbythesemenbuttodilutetheirglass。Theywereuniversallyathirstyrace。Mightnotthebasket，stable-broom，mat-making，corn-parching，linen-spinning，andpotterybusinesshavethrivedhere，makingthewildernesstoblossomliketherose，andanumerousposterityhaveinheritedthelandoftheirfathers？Thesterilesoilwouldatleasthavebeenproofagainstalow-landdegeneracy。Alas！howlittledoesthememoryofthesehumaninhabitantsenhancethebeautyofthelandscape！Again，perhaps，Naturewilltry，withmeforafirstsettler，andmyhouseraisedlastspringtobetheoldestinthehamlet。
IamnotawarethatanymanhaseverbuiltonthespotwhichI
occupy。Delivermefromacitybuiltonthesiteofamoreancientcity，whosematerialsareruins，whosegardenscemeteries。Thesoilisblanchedandaccursedthere，andbeforethatbecomesnecessarytheearthitselfwillbedestroyed。WithsuchreminiscencesI
repeopledthewoodsandlulledmyselfasleep。
AtthisseasonIseldomhadavisitor。Whenthesnowlaydeepestnowandererventurednearmyhouseforaweekorfortnightatatime，butthereIlivedassnugasameadowmouse，orascattleandpoultrywhicharesaidtohavesurvivedforalongtimeburiedindrifts，evenwithoutfood；orlikethatearlysettler’sfamilyinthetownofSutton，inthisState，whosecottagewascompletelycoveredbythegreatsnowof1717whenhewasabsent，andanIndianfounditonlybytheholewhichthechimney’sbreathmadeinthedrift，andsorelievedthefamily。ButnofriendlyIndianconcernedhimselfaboutme；norneededhe，forthemasterofthehousewasathome。TheGreatSnow！Howcheerfulitistohearof！Whenthefarmerscouldnotgettothewoodsandswampswiththeirteams，andwereobligedtocutdowntheshadetreesbeforetheirhouses，and，whenthecrustwasharder，cutoffthetreesintheswamps，tenfeetfromtheground，asitappearedthenextspring。
Inthedeepestsnows，thepathwhichIusedfromthehighwaytomyhouse，abouthalfamilelong，mighthavebeenrepresentedbyameanderingdottedline，withwideintervalsbetweenthedots。ForaweekofevenweatherItookexactlythesamenumberofsteps，andofthesamelength，comingandgoing，steppingdeliberatelyandwiththeprecisionofapairofdividersinmyowndeeptracks——tosuchroutinethewinterreducesus——yetoftentheywerefilledwithheaven’sownblue。Butnoweatherinterferedfatallywithmywalks，orrathermygoingabroad，forIfrequentlytrampedeightortenmilesthroughthedeepestsnowtokeepanappointmentwithabeechtree，orayellowbirch，oranoldacquaintanceamongthepines；
whentheiceandsnowcausingtheirlimbstodroop，andsosharpeningtheirtops，hadchangedthepinesintofirtrees；wadingtothetopsofthehighesthillswhentheshowwasnearlytwofeetdeeponalevel，andshakingdownanothersnow-stormonmyheadateverystep；orsometimescreepingandflounderingthitheronmyhandsandknees，whenthehuntershadgoneintowinterquarters。
OneafternoonIamusedmyselfbywatchingabarredowlStrixnebulosasittingononeofthelowerdeadlimbsofawhitepine，closetothetrunk，inbroaddaylight，Istandingwithinarodofhim。HecouldhearmewhenImovedandcronchedthesnowwithmyfeet，butcouldnotplainlyseeme。WhenImademostnoisehewouldstretchouthisneck，anderecthisneckfeathers，andopenhiseyeswide；buttheirlidssoonfellagain，andhebegantonod。Itoofeltaslumberousinfluenceafterwatchinghimhalfanhour，ashesatthuswithhiseyeshalfopen，likeacat，wingedbrotherofthecat。Therewasonlyanarrowslitleftbetweentheirlids，bywhichbepreservedapennisularrelationtome；thus，withhalf-shuteyes，lookingoutfromthelandofdreams，andendeavoringtorealizeme，vagueobjectormotethatinterruptedhisvisions。Atlength，onsomeloudernoiseormynearerapproach，hewouldgrowuneasyandsluggishlyturnaboutonhisperch，asifimpatientathavinghisdreamsdisturbed；andwhenhelaunchedhimselfoffandflappedthroughthepines，spreadinghiswingstounexpectedbreadth，I
couldnotheartheslightestsoundfromthem。Thus，guidedamidthepineboughsratherbyadelicatesenseoftheirneighborhoodthanbysight，feelinghistwilightway，asitwere，withhissensitivepinions，hefoundanewperch，wherehemightinpeaceawaitthedawningofhisday。
AsIwalkedoverthelongcausewaymadefortherailroadthroughthemeadows，Iencounteredmanyablusteringandnippingwind，fornowherehasitfreerplay；andwhenthefrosthadsmittenmeononecheek，heathenasIwas，Iturnedtoittheotheralso。NorwasitmuchbetterbythecarriageroadfromBrister’sHill。ForIcametotownstill，likeafriendlyIndian，whenthecontentsofthebroadopenfieldswereallpiledupbetweenthewallsoftheWaldenroad，andhalfanhoursufficedtoobliteratethetracksofthelasttraveller。AndwhenIreturnednewdriftswouldhaveformed，throughwhichIfloundered，wherethebusynorthwestwindhadbeendepositingthepowderysnowroundasharpangleintheroad，andnotarabbit’strack，noreventhefineprint，thesmalltype，ofameadowmousewastobeseen。YetIrarelyfailedtofind，eveninmidwinter，somewarmandspringlyswampwherethegrassandtheskunk-cabbagestillputforthwithperennialverdure，andsomehardierbirdoccasionallyawaitedthereturnofspring。
Sometimes，notwithstandingthesnow，whenIreturnedfrommywalkateveningIcrossedthedeeptracksofawoodchopperleadingfrommydoor，andfoundhispileofwhittlingsonthehearth，andmyhousefilledwiththeodorofhispipe。OronaSundayafternoon，ifIchancedtobeathome，Iheardthecronchingofthesnowmadebythestepofalong-headedfarmer，whofromfarthroughthewoodssoughtmyhouse，tohaveasocial“crack“；oneofthefewofhisvocationwhoare“menontheirfarms“；whodonnedafrockinsteadofaprofessor’sgown，andisasreadytoextractthemoraloutofchurchorstateastohaulaloadofmanurefromhisbarn-yard。Wetalkedofrudeandsimpletimes，whenmensataboutlargefiresincold，bracingweather，withclearheads；andwhenotherdessertfailed，wetriedourteethonmanyanutwhichwisesquirrelshavelongsinceabandoned，forthosewhichhavethethickestshellsarecommonlyempty。
Theonewhocamefromfarthesttomylodge，throughdeepestsnowsandmostdismaltempests，wasapoet。Afarmer，ahunter，asoldier，areporter，evenaphilosopher，maybedaunted；butnothingcandeterapoet，forheisactuatedbypurelove。Whocanpredicthiscomingsandgoings？Hisbusinesscallshimoutatallhours，evenwhendoctorssleep。Wemadethatsmallhouseringwithboisterousmirthandresoundwiththemurmurofmuchsobertalk，makingamendsthentoWaldenvaleforthelongsilences。Broadwaywasstillanddesertedincomparison。Atsuitableintervalstherewereregularsalutesoflaughter，whichmighthavebeenreferredindifferentlytothelast-utteredortheforth-comingjest。Wemademanya“brannew“theoryoflifeoverathindishofgruel，whichcombinedtheadvantagesofconvivialitywiththeclear-headednesswhichphilosophyrequires。
Ishouldnotforgetthatduringmylastwinteratthepondtherewasanotherwelcomevisitor，whoatonetimecamethroughthevillage，throughsnowandrainanddarkness，tillhesawmylampthroughthetrees，andsharedwithmesomelongwinterevenings。
Oneofthelastofthephilosophers——Connecticutgavehimtotheworld——hepeddledfirstherwares，afterwards，ashedeclares，hisbrains。Thesehepeddlesstill，promptingGodanddisgracingman，bearingforfruithisbrainonly，likethenutitskernel。Ithinkthathemustbethemanofthemostfaithofanyalive。Hiswordsandattitudealwayssupposeabetterstateofthingsthanothermenareacquaintedwith，andhewillbethelastmantobedisappointedastheagesrevolve。Hehasnoventureinthepresent。Butthoughcomparativelydisregardednow，whenhisdaycomes，lawsunsuspectedbymostwilltakeeffect，andmastersoffamiliesandrulerswillcometohimforadvice。
“Howblindthatcannotseeserenity！“