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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com-Walden by Henry David Thoreau


seen, the dirt being raised five feet all around as if it were a compost
heap. The roof was the soundest part, though a good deal warped and
made brittle by the sun. Doorsill there was none, but a perennial
passage for the hens under the door-board. Mrs. C. came to the door
and asked me to view it from the inside. The hens were driven in by
my approach. It was dark, and had a dirt floor for the most part,
dank, clammy, and aguish, only here a board and there a board
which would not bear removal. She lighted a lamp to show me the
inside of the roof and the walls, and also that the board floor
extended under the bed, warning me not to step into the cellar, a sort
of dust hole two feet deep. In her own words, they were good boards
overhead, good boards all around, and a good window"- of two
whole squares originally, only the cat had passed out that way lately.
There was a stove, a bed, and a place to sit, an infant in the house
where it was born, a silk parasol, gilt-framed looking-glass, and a
patent new coffee-mill nailed to an oak sapling, all told. The bargain
was soon concluded, for James had in the meanwhile returned. I to
pay four dollars and twenty-five cents tonight, he to vacate at five
tomorrow morning, selling to nobody else meanwhile: I to take
possession at six. It were well, he said, to be there early, and
anticipate certain indistinct but wholly unjust claims on the score of
ground rent and fuel. This he assured me was the only encumbrance.
At six I passed him and his family on the road. One large bundle
held their all-bed, coffee-mill, looking-glass, hens-all but the cat; she
took to the woods and became a wild cat, and, as I learned afterward,
trod in a trap set for woodchucks, and so became a dead cat at last.

I took down this dwelling the same morning, drawing the nails, and
removed it to the pond-side by small cartloads, spreading the boards
on the grass there to bleach and warp back again in the sun. One
early thrush gave me a note or two as I drove along the woodland
path. I was informed treacherously by a young Patrick that neighbor
Seeley, an Irishman, in the intervals of the carting, transferred the
still tolerable, straight, and drivable nails, staples, and spikes to his
pocket, and then stood when I came back to pass the time of day, and
look freshly up, unconcerned, with spring thoughts, at the
devastation; there being a dearth of work, as he said. He was there to
represent spectatordom, and help make this seemingly insignificant
event one with the removal of the gods of Troy.

I dug my cellar in the side of a hill sloping to the south, where a
woodchuck had formerly dug his burrow, down through sumach and
blackberry roots, and the lowest stain of vegetation, six feet square
by seven deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would not freeze in any
winter. The sides were left shelving, and not stoned; but the sun
having never shone on them, the sand still keeps its place. It was but
two hours’ work. I took particular pleasure in this breaking of
ground, for in almost all latitudes men dig into the earth for an
equable temperature. Under the most splendid house in the city is
still to be found the cellar where they store their roots as of old, and
long after the superstructure has disappeared posterity remark its
dent in the earth. The house is still but a sort of porch at the en-
trance of a burrow.

At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of my
acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for
neighborliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my
house. No man was ever more honored in the character of his raisers
than I. They are destined, I trust, to assist at the raising of loftier
structures one day. I began to occupy my house on the 4th of July, as
soon as it was boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully
feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious to rain,
but before boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney at one end,
bringing two cartloads of stones up the hill from the pond in my
arms. I built the chimney after my hoeing in the fall, before a fire
became necessary for warmth, doing my cooking in the meanwhile
out of doors on the ground, early in the morning: which mode I still
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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com-Walden by Henry David Thoreau



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