countenance is distinctly, and most intelligibly delineated. Incredible sums have been given, and still continue to be given for the works of this master, in his own country, and in every polite part of Europe where they are to be found. Some of his best works are now in the royal gallery at Dresden. I must not omit that comical, dissipated humourist and happy artist, Jan Steen, who was born here in 1636, whose wit and drollery were only surpassed by his wonderful powers in painting, in which such was his astonishing faculty, that he seemed to be more inspired than instructed, for he kept an alehouse for a considerable time, from the cellars of which he drew more for himself than for his customers, and having exhausted his barrels, he replenished them by the product of his art, to which he never devoted himself but upon such occasions, and generally discharged the bills of the brewers and wine merchants with pictures. Although he might have lived in great affluence by his masterly pencil, he was frequently reduced to the most deplorable penury by indolence and dissipation; his faces alone completely indicated the rank and condition of the person depicted. Great prices are now given for the works of this artist, though they sold for small sums in his life time, on account of his being obliged to sell upon the pressure of necessity. A characteristic anecdote is related of this singular artist. In a picture of the crucifixion, having introduced a numerous group of figures, consisting of monks, old women, and dogs, at the foot of the cross, he was asked to explain the reason of such an assemblage; to which he replied, “the clergy and the old women are always the most eager in their inquiries, when any thing curious occurs.” Some years since, another instance of his eccentric turn of mind was sold for a considerable sum at Amsterdam, viz. a painting of the deluge, which he had delineated by introducing a large Dutch cheese, with the word Leyden inscribed upon it, floating in the centre of a sheet of water, which, he said, would incontestably prove that all the world was drowned. The name of Jan Steen naturally introduces that of his great friend Francis Mieres, who was born here in 1635, and was a pupil of Gerard Douw, who, from the rapid progress he made in his studies, used to call him the Prince of his Disciples: in rich transparency, an unusual sweetness of colouring, and an elaborate but delicate touch, he nearly approached his illustrious master. Mieres was generally paid a ducat an hour for his works, and the Grand Duke of Tuscany paid him no less than a thousand rix dollars for one picture. Unfortunately for this artist, he conceived an uncommon friendship for the drunken, droll Jan Steen, which frequently involved him in inconvenience, and disgrace. An anecdote is related of Mieres, in consequence of this association, which in its result did much honour to his feelings; being accustomed to pass whole