I saw it twice, and failed both times. A vast repository of beauties, like the stadthouse of Amsterdam, where there is much to admire in the nobleness of the building, and the elegance of the decorations, surcharges the mind with objects, and the judgment is proportionally weakened as it is extensively exercised. To the circumstance, then, that my judgment was enfeebled by the multiplicity of objects which had engaged it, is probably to be attributed my not being able to discern in Vandyke's greyheaded old man the singular excellence for which it is praised by connoisseurs. The same apartment contains pictures by Rubens, Otho Venius, and Jordaans: but the two which I have noticed are the best.
The tower, or steeple, of the stadthouse is visited by strangers, on account of the carillons, or musical chimes, which it contains. These play every quarter of an hour some different airs; and three times a week at noon a carilloneur attends to play on the bells, for the amusement of the citizens of Amsterdam. Throughout Holland, the most
