Wurzen is a wretched little village, a collection of a few dozen of wooden huts, situated about two thousand feet above the level of the sea, at the foot of a pass which leads from Carniola into Carinthia, similar to that of the Löbel, but by no means so elevated. The post-house is tolerable, and the view from the windows magnificent, so much so, that Sir Humphry requested me to take a sketch of it for Lady Davy. The master of this inn is so remarkably civil that Sir Humphry has determined to stay for a day or two, and to make an excursion to the source of the Isonzo, which we are told is about twenty miles from Wurzen. In the afternoon Sir Humphry went out to fish, and I to examine the source of the Wurzen-Save, which rises about two miles above the village, and is of a character very different from the Savitza, or source of the Wochain-Save. The river here flows from a large pond, which appears perfectly insulated, lying in the midst of fields, at the end of a dry water-channel coming from one of the lateral vallies. The water in the pond is exceedingly clear, and at the bottom towards the centre, one discovers a number of very large holes, through which the water rises mixed with a great quantity of air, producing a constant ebullition on the surface of the middle of the pond, the water of which is perfectly cold.[C] After leaving the pond, the Wurzen-Save winds through the valley as a beautiful clear mountain stream, passing by Kronau, Assling, and Radmansdorf, where it receives the Wochain-Save, flowing from the lake of Wochain. These united branches are then called the Save, and the river flows on through the valley of the same name to Krainburg; it afterwards passes near Laybach, where it receives the river of that name with many other smaller streams, and rolls on, already a considerable river, through Carniola, passes by Agram, traverses Croatia, and then forms the boundary between Austria and Turkey till it reaches Belgrade, where it mixes its mighty and rapid waters, swollen to a great size by a hundred tributary streams, with those of the Danube, and rolls with it into the Black Sea. _23rd._ Sir Humphry going out to-day to shoot in the marshes near the river, I went to see the lake of Weisenfels, about six miles off, and had a famous mountain ramble. This lake is not large, but beautifully clear and highly picturesque; it lies at the foot of the Mannhardt, a stupendous mountain covered with eternal snow. I took a slight sketch of the lake, and after spending an hour or two upon its beautiful and sunny banks, I returned to Wurzen. After recounting what I had seen in my ramble to Sir Humphry, we spent our evening as usual with cards and reading.