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Former Inhabitants and Winter Visitors
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。
Down the road； on the right hand； on Brister's Hill； lived
Brister Freeman； 〃a handy Negro；〃 slave of Squire Cummings once
there where grow still the apple trees which Brister planted and
tended； large old trees now； but their fruit still wild and ciderish
to my taste。 Not long since I read his epitaph in the old Lincoln
burying…ground； a little on one side； near the unmarked graves of
some British grenadiers who fell in the retreat from Concord
where he is styled 〃Sippio Brister〃 Scipio Africanus he had some
title to be called 〃a man of color；〃 as if he were discolored。
It also told me； with staring emphasis； when he died； which was but
an indirect way of informing me that he ever lived。 With him dwelt
Fenda； his hospitable wife； who told fortunes； yet pleasantly
large； round； and black； blacker than any of the children of night；
such a dusky orb as never rose on Concord before or since。
Farther down the hill； on the left； on the old road in the
woods； are marks of some homestead of the Stratton family； whose
orchard once covered all the slope of Brister's Hill； but was long
since killed out by pitch pines； excepting a few stumps； whose old
roots furnish still the wild stocks of many a thrifty village tree。
Nearer yet to town； you come to Breed's location； on the other
side of the way； just on the edge of the wood； ground famous for the
pranks of a demon not distinctly named in old mythology； who has
acted a prominent and astounding part in our New England life； and
deserves； as much as any mythological character； to have his
biography written one day； who first comes in the guise of a friend
or hired man； and then robs and murders the whole family
New…England Rum。 But history must not yet tell the tragedies
enacted here； let time intervene in some measure to assuage and lend
an azure tint to them。 Here the most indistinct and dubious
tradition says that once a tavern stood； the well the same； which
tempered the traveller's beverage and refreshed his steed。 Here
then men saluted one another； and heard and told the news； and went
their ways again。
Breed's hut was standing only a dozen years ago； though it had
long been unoccupied。 It was about the size of mine。 It was set on
fire by mischievous boys； one Election night； if I do not mistake。
I lived on the edge of the village then； and had just lost myself
over Davenant's 〃Gondibert；〃 that winter that I labored with a
lethargy which； by the way； I never knew whether to regard as a
family complaint； having an uncle who goes to sleep shaving himself；
and is obliged to sprout potatoes in a cellar Sundays； in order to
keep awake and keep the Sabbath； or as the consequence of my attempt
to read Chalmers' collection of English poetry without skipping。 It
fairly overcame my Nervii。 I had just sunk my head on this when the
bells rung fire； and in hot haste the engines rolled that way； led
by a straggling troop of men and boys； and I among the foremost； for
I had leaped the brook。 We thought it was far south over the woods
we who had run to fires before barn； shop； or dwelling…house；
or all together。 〃It's Baker's barn；〃 cried one。 〃It is the Codman
place；〃 affirmed another。 And then fresh sparks went up above the
wood； as if the roof fell in； and we all shouted 〃Concord to the
rescue！〃 Wagons shot past with furious speed and crushing loads；
bearing； perchance； among the rest； the agent of the Insurance
Company； who was bound to go however far； and ever and anon the
engine bell tinkled behind； more slow and sure； and rearmost of all；
as it was afterward whispered； came they who set the fire and gave
the alarm。 Thus we kept on like true idealists； rejecting the
evidence of our senses； until at a turn in the road we heard the
crackling and actually felt the heat of the fire from over the wall；
and realized； alas！ that we were there。 The very nearness of the
fire but cooled our ardor。 At first we thought to throw a frog…pond
on to it； but concluded to let it burn； it was so far gone and so
worthless。 So we stood round our engine； jostled one another；
expressed our sentiments through speaking…trumpets； or in lower tone
referred to the great conflagrations which the world has witnessed；
including Bascom's shop； and； between ourselves； we thought that；
were we there in season with our 〃tub；〃 and a full frog…pond by； we
could turn that threatened last and universal one into another
flood。 We finally retreated without doing any mischief returned
to sleep and 〃Gondibert。〃 But as for 〃Gondibert；〃 I would except
that passage in the preface about wit being the soul's powder
〃but most of mankind are strangers to wit