The narrator then tells us that in the late winter of 1846, before the ice broke up, he measured the depth and charted the topography of the pond's bottom. He found that Walden, which was previously thought to be "bottomless," was one hundred and seven feet deep. Relating this fact to his own spiritual interests, he declares, "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."
One January day, the narrator looked out at the pond and saw a crew of a hundred Irish laborers and Yankee foremen cutting out the Walden ice for sale in warmer weather and in southern climates. At first, he was upset at the thought of their stealing Walden's "skin"; but, upon reflection, he gladdened at the thought of the sweltering inhabitants of Charleston, New Orleans, Bombay, and Calcutta drinking at his Walden "well." The moral is obvious; he hopes that they can derive the great value from Walden that he has.
In concluding the chapter, the narrator tells us that in the mornings he would "bathe" his intellect "in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagvat Geeta." This would send him into an imaginative reverence and he would feel as though he had integrated Oriental and Western thought and culture on the shores of Walden. Thus the "pure Walden water [was] mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges."
