This chapter begins with the narrator attempting to preserve his happy, summer state of mind in the midst of winter. He buoyantly tells us, "I weathered some merry snow storms, and spent some cheerful winter evenings by my fireside." Yet, while making the best of his situation, it is not long before we hear a somber note in the narrator's voice. All nature is silent and still—"even the hooting of the owl was hushed"—and, indirectly, he is telling us that he received no natural stimulation. The deep snow made visits from friends less frequent and, in this solitary situation, he had to exercise his ingenuity to keep his mind active: "For human society I was obliged to conjure up the former occupants of these woods." Turning to memory and history to keep his mind busy, he describes the former inhabitants of the Walden area.
He recounts the residences of three former slaves: Cato Ingraham, whose Walden land was eventually taken away by "a younger and whiter speculator"; Zilpha, an elderly woman who spun linen and made the woods ring with her songs; and Brister Freeman, whose wife, Fenda, "pleasantly" told fortunes. There is the ruined farm of the Stratten family, and also the Breeds' house, which was burnt to the ground not long ago by mischievous children. The narrator recalls that he had been shown the Breeds' place by one of the family. This fellow was especially gratified to find that the well had not been destroyed, but was merely covered up and could again be tapped someday.
When considering the remains of Hugh Quoil's place, the narrator again focuses on a covered well. It makes him feel melancholy that "where once a spring oozed" there is now "dry and tearless grass." Such recollections make the narrator sad, and he gives them up for comforting sleep.
Since there were hardly any visitors, the narrator spent much time walking across the winter landscape, observing the snow-covered trees and an occasional animal. One time, he came upon a drowsy owl perched on the dead limb of a pine. The owl seemed as inactive as the rest of nature, but the narrator found this appearance to be deceiving when he moved too close to the owl. The owl abruptly came to life: "He launched himself off, and flapped through the pines, spreading his wings to unexpected breadth." Strolling farther, the narrator found other signs of nature's continuing vitality in the midst of winter.
When the narrator returned to his cabin from these jaunts, he sometimes found a friend waiting for him. Once, a "long-headed farmer" visited him, and they heartily recalled "rude and simple times, when men sat about large fires in cold, bracing weather, with clear heads." A poet also visited him, and together they made "that small house ring with boisterous mirth and resound with the murmur of much sober talk." A philosopher also stopped by. He was a great, ideal man whose personality made "plain the image engraven in men's bodies, the God of whom they are but defaced and leaning monuments." The narrator was inspired by his conversation with the philosopher and felt a heightened spiritual awareness.
