We were serenaded all the way by nightingales, which are very numerous in every part of this province. Arnheim or Arnhem, is a very large and elegant city, partly watered by a branch of the Naas, over which are several draw-bridges, from which there are many agreeable views. The houses are in general well built, and, what is remarkable for a Dutch town, very few of them out of the perpendicular. The entrances, called St. Jan’s Poort and Sabel’s Poort, are picturesque. St. John’s church is a vast edifice of brick, with two spires, and a fine set of carillons; but with exception to its magnitude, there is little in or about it worthy of observation; the same may be said of the church of St. Nicholas. The church near Walburges Plain, the name of which I have forgotten, is a prodigious massy pile; and beheld from the surrounding scenery has a very noble effect. The market-place is capacious, and abundantly supplied with every species of provision, which are here much cheaper than in the other parts of Holland. The streets of this city are enlivened by several handsome equipages, and throughout the place there is a considerable appearance of refinement and opulence. Here the Dutch language begins to lose itself in the German, a circumstance made manifest by a friend of mine, a native of Germany, who accompanied me on my return from that country to Holland, finding considerable difficulty in understanding the lower people in Arnheim. The inns here are in general very good. This city gave birth to the celebrated David Beck in 1621, a disciple of Vandyke, from whom he imbibed that exquisite style of colouring and penciling which belong to his school. King Charles the First was so astonished at the freedom of his hand, he one day said, “I do believe, Beck, you could paint if you were riding post.” The person of this artist was remarkably handsome, and his manners perfectly well bred: these qualities, accompanied with such talents in his art, recommended him to the attention of queen Christina of Sweden, who appointed him her portrait painter and chamberlain; and under her patronage he painted most of the illustrious persons of Europe. The following singular event occurred to this artist in his tour through Germany. At an inn where he stopped for the night, he was suddenly taken violently ill, to appearance expired, and was accordingly laid out for a corpse. His valets, who were much attached to him, sat by his bed-side, deeply lamenting the loss of so good a master; and, like the Irish upon such occasion, sought consolation in the bottle, which was put about very briskly; at length one of them, who was greatly intoxicated, said to his companions, “Come, my friends, our poor dear master used to be very fond of his glass when alive, suppose, out of gratitude, we give him a bumper now he is dead.” To this jovial recommendation the rest of the servants consented. They accordingly raised his head, and the mover