Thoreau writes in his journal:
2 P.M.—To the Assabet.
Still no rain. The clouds, cumuli, lie in high piles along the southern horizon, glowing, downy, or creamcolored, broken into irregular summits in the form of bears erect, or demigods, or rocking stones, infant Herculeses; and still we think that from their darker bases a thunder-shower may issue . . .