_24th._ We left Wurzen this morning in a little carriage, and drove over very bad roads up the valley to Tarvis, a small and old town, through which the high road from Italy to Carinthia and Vienna passes. The only manufactures of the town appear to be of iron and steel. We here took another road to the left, up the valley of Raibl, along the banks of a foaming mountain torrent, till we reached the little village of the same name, where we arrived about twelve o'clock. Raibl lies at the foot of the Königsberg, a lofty mountain containing very productive lead mines, and is only inhabited by miners. There is a small but very decent inn in the village; immediately in the front of it rises a lofty Alp of very singular form, its rocky and barren summit being split into five rounded peaks or cones. Whilst Sir Humphry took a luncheon, I drew a sketch of the place, and we then set out for the source of the Isonzo, which the postmaster of Wurzen, who accompanied us as a guide, assured us was at a short distance up the mountain, and that the road to it was very good. Sir Humphry proceeded in this carriage whilst I walked up the mountain with the postmaster, and a friend of his from Raibl, neither of whom seemed to know much about the Isonzo or its source, for after a long walk they conducted us to a valley in the middle of which ran a small stream, which the postmaster declared was the Isonzo. This, however, both to Sir Humphry and me, appeared impossible on comparing its situation and direction with that of the Isonzo, as traced on our maps, and after a long discussion with the postmaster and his friend, the latter admitted they were wrong, and that it was the Pless, or Fletzbach, a little mountain river, a tributary stream of the Isonzo, whose source, from all the information we could gain, lies in a very different direction, at least ten miles off, and in a very wild and barren country. Sir Humphry was sadly disappointed and very angry with the postmaster, who had assured us at Wurzen that he was well acquainted with the source. We had however enjoyed some very fine wild scenery, and had seen many beautiful small cascades leaping from the mountains. On our road we passed a knoll of ground where the grass grew more luxuriantly than any where else, and we learnt that this spot had been the grave of some hundred Austrians, who had bravely defended a small fort which stood here, against the French; of the whole garrison three or four only escaped the slaughter. At that time the French had possession of the whole surrounding country, and had thrice sent to the Austrians a flag of truce, assuring them that resistance was vain. The inhabitants of Raibl still speak with horror of this action, in which the Austrians fought with desperate enthusiasm, led on by their commander, Major Hermann, who, it is said, wished for death, and if so he could scarcely have found a more wildly romantic spot in which to have parted with life.