In the afternoon, the railway, running through a very dull country, takes us to Lambach. We reach that place about four--and now the Salzkammergut mountains, among which we are so soon going to plunge, stand out clear and blue to S. and S.W. As we enter the quaint little town, we pass the great Benedictine House, still in full work, and take up our abode at a quiet little country inn, the Schwarzes Rössel. And first, again passing the monastery, and descending a steep hill, we make our way along the side of the green Traun to the bluff hill of Baura, round which the village niches itself in various green nooks. A pleasant field walk, with cowslips, ox-eyes, orchises, and forget-me-nots, to tell how forward, after our late mountain passes, spring was here in the lowlands, I may quote what follows from a letter written the same night-- "First through a lovely valley, starred with cowslips, to the church of Baura. This stands on a high bit of table land, that almost overhangs the town; a most pleasant situation; the green river foaming beneath; wooded banks on its other side. Look up the stream, and the Benedictine Monastery crowns the opposite height; look south, and you have the chain of purple mountains, snow-striped and speckled, great Traunstein towering above the rest. Baura is dedicated to the Blessed Trinity, and was built in 1755. It is triangular; has three doors, three windows, three sacristies, three organs, and is built of three sorts of Sicilian marble, and cost 333,333 florins. Over the first entrance I read, Deum Patrem Creatorem Mundi, venite adoremus; opposite in a wretched transparency
