_26th._ On awaking this morning, I fancied myself on the sea shore, for the first sound I heard was the surge of the waters of the lake, which had been agitated into light waves by a fresh morning breeze. On going to my window the scene formed a striking contrast to that of yesterday evening; the darkness and deep silence of night had disappeared; not a cloud was to be seen, and the brilliant beams of the young sun shone upon numberless boats, flitting with their white sails over the glittering waves; whilst in the street beneath stood motley groups of peasants lounging about, or awaiting the arrival of some boat from the other shore of the lake. Sir Humphry rose early, and immediately after breakfast we went out to the bridge over the Traun, he to fish, whilst I sketched; and staid the whole morning beneath the bridge, on one of the piers close to the rushing stream. The view from this spot is far more extensive than that from the inn windows, as from hence you see quite to the opposite end of the lake, and can discover beyond the promontory, on which stands the town of Traunkirchen, the houses and spires of Ebensee, as white specks against the distant grey mountain; and from hence also are seen to great advantage, far beyond the mountains of the lake, the distant snow-clad summits of the Schneeberg and other of the Styrian Alps. On my return home I found Sir Humphry already there, and that he had caught some fine trout, which proved excellent. In the evening we had a violent storm, and I read Green's poem on the Spleen, which Sir Humphry does not admire.