THE POND IN WINTER. 
307 
ing down through the illusive medium, perchance with 
watery eyes into the bargain, and driven to hasty con¬ 
clusions by the fear of catching cold in their breasts, 
have seen vast holes “ into which a load of hay might 
be driven,” if there were any body to drive it, the un¬ 
doubted source of the Styx and entrance to the Infernal 
Regions from these parts. Others have gone down 
from the village with a “ fifty-six ” and a wagon load of 
inch rope, but yet have failed to find any bottom; for 
while the “ fifty-six ” was resting by the way, they were 
paying out the rope in the vain attempt to fathom their 
truly immeasurable capacity for marvellousness. But I 
can assure my readers that Walden has a reasonably 
tight bottom at a not unreasonable, though at an unusual, 
depth. I fathomed it easily with a cod-line and a stone 
weighing about a pound and a half, and could tell accu¬ 
rately when the stone left the bottom, by having to pull 
so much harder before the water got underneath to help 
me. The greatest depth was exactly one hundred and 
two feet; to which may be added the five feet which it 
has risen since, making one hundred and seven. This 
is a remarkable depth for so small an area; yet not an 
inch of it can be spared by the imagination. What if 
all ponds were shallow? Would it not react on the 
minds of men ? I am thankful that this pond was made 
deep and pure for a symbol. While men believe in the 
infinite some ponds will be thought to be bottomless. 
A factory owner, hearing what depth I had found, 
thought that it could not be true, for, judging from his 
acquaintance with dams, sand would not lie at so steep 
an angle. But the deepest ponds are not so deep in 
proportion to their area as most suppose, and, if drained, 
would not leave very remarkable valleys. They are 
