Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to

the woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my

house, and began to cut down some tall, arrowy white pines, still in

their youth, for timber. It is difficult to begin without

borrowing, but perhaps it is the most generous course thus to permit

your fellow-men to have an interest in your enterprise. The owner

of the axe, as he released his hold on it, said that it was the

apple of his eye; but I returned it sharper than I received it. It

was a pleasant hillside where I worked, covered with pine woods,

through which I looked out on the pond, and a small open field in

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