The river is now rising fast.

August 22.
Fair weather at last. 

P. M. — Up Assabet. 

Owing to the rain of the 8th and before, two days and two nights, the river rose to within six inches of the top of Hoar's wall. It had fallen about one half, when the rain began again on the night of the 20th, and again continued about two nights and two days, though so much did not fall as before; but, the river being high, it is now rising fast. 

The Assabet is apparently at its height, and rushing very swiftly past the Hemlocks, where it is narrow and choked with rocks, I can hardly row against it there. I see much hay floating, and two or three cocks, quite black, carried round and round in a great eddy by the side of the stream, which will ere long be released and continue their voyage down-stream. 

The water is backing up the main stream so that there is no current what ever in that, as far up as my boat's place, at least. When I rest on my oars the boat will not after any waiting drift down-stream.  It is within three inches of the top of Hoar's wall at 7 p. m. 

I notice three or four clumps of white maples, at the swamp up the Assabet, which have turned as red (dull red) as ever they do, fairly put on their autumnal hue. But we have had no dry weather and no frost, and this is apparently a premature ripening of the leaves. The water stands around and affects them as it does the weeds and grass, — steams them too. They, as it were, take these for the fall rains, the latter rain, accept their fates, and put on the suitable dress. 

This shows how little frost has to do with such changes, except as a ripener of the leaves. The trees are so ready for this change that only a copious rain and rise of the waters as in the fall produces the same effect. 

Also some red maples on hillsides have a crisped look for the same reason, actually ripening and drying without turning and without drought or frost. 

I find that much of the faint warbling I hear nowadays is from apparently the young Maryland yellow- throats, as it were practicing against another spring, — half-finished strains. They are also more inquisitive and bold than usual, hopping quite near. 

The creak of the mole cricket is heard along the shore.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 22, 1856

It is within three inches of the top of Hoar's wall at 7 p. m. Compare August 22, 1854 ("I go again to the Great Meadows, to improve this remarkably dry season and walk where in ordinary times I cannot go. . . ")