pg 253 wldn

Text: ...He had long ago bought a potters wheel off him, and wished to know what had become of him. I had read of the potter's day and wheel in scripture, but it had never occured to me that the pots we used were not such as had come down unbroken form those days, or grown on trees like gourds somewehre, and i was pleased to hear that so fictile an art was ever practiced in my neighborhood.

It is interesting that Thoreau, in my vew, hits another level of like for his neighborhood when he reads of another person making pots or instrument from the land. I think it makes him feel like he is in a place where people have been living from the land for ages. Much like he likes the idea of building his house he likes the thought of somebody making pots because it is dong something for themselves.