亨利·大卫·梭罗/ Henry David Thoreau
亨利·大卫·梭罗（1817—1862），散文家、超验主义哲学家。出生于美国以超验主义中心著称的康科德，并在那儿度过了大半生。梭罗毕生以超验主义作为自己的生活准则，并将之发挥到极致；他一生未娶，曾隐居瓦尔登湖两年有余，过着与世隔绝的生活，并在湖边的木屋里写下了著名的《瓦尔登湖》一书。本文即选自此书。
Ace in the Hole
Understand these new words before you read this article.
1. creak [kri:k] v. 发出咯吱咯吱声
2. tread [tred] v. 踏
3. creep [kri:p] v. 爬行；慢慢地移动
4. loiter ['l?it?] v. 闲**；虚度
5. forlorn [f?'l?:n] adj. 被遗弃的
The wind has gently murmured through the blinds, or puffed with feathery softness against the windows, and occasionally sighed like a summer zephyr lifting the leaves along, the livelong night. The meadow mouse has slept in his snug gallery in the sod, the owl has sat in a hollow tree in the depth of the swamp, the rabbit, the squirrel, and the fox have all been housed. The watch-dog has lain quiet on the hearth, and the cattle have stood silent in their stalls. The earth itself has slept, as it were its first, not its last sleep, save when some street sign or woodhouse door has faintly creaked upon its hinge, cheering forlorn nature at her midnight work—the only sound awake twixt Venus and Mars—advertising us of a remote inward warmth, a divine cheer and fellowship, where gods are met together, but where it is very bleak for men to stand. But while the earth has slumbered, all the air has been alive with feathery flakes descending, as if some northern Ceres reigned, showering her silvery grain over all the fields.
We sleep, and at length awake to the still reality of a winter morning. The snow lies warm as cotton or down upon the window sill; the broadened sash and frosted panes admit a dim and private light, which enhances the snug cheer within. The stillness of the morning is impressive. The floor creaks under our feet as we move toward the window to look abroad through some clear space over the fields, we see the roofs stand under their snow burden. From the eaves and fences hang stalactites of snow, and in the yard stand stalagmites covering some concealed core. The trees and shrubs rear white arms to the sky on every side; and where were walls and fences, we see fantastic forms stretching in frolic gambols across the dusky landscape, as if Nature had strewn her fresh designs over the fields by night as models for man’s art.