It has been asserted by some travellers, that the Dutch treasure this spot more from national pride than feeling, and that they are more disposed to preserve than to enjoy it. To this remark I have only to offer, that I saw a considerable number of equestrian and pedestrian groups, who appeared to relish its shaded roads, and sequestered walks with great delight. The royal residence is to the right at the end of the wood. Upon my asking a Dutchman which path led to the “house in the wood,” the only appellation by which, in the time of the Stadtholder, it was known, he sharply replied, “I presume you mean the _palace_ in the wood.” This building is merely fit for the residence of a country gentleman, and has nothing princely about it, except the centry boxes at the foot of the flight of stairs ascending to the grand entrance: two tall and not very perpendicular poles, from the tops of which is stretched a cord, suspending in the centre a large lamp, stand on each side of the house in front of the palace; on the left are the coach-houses and stablings, which are perfectly plain, and are just separated from the court road by a small stunted plantation: there was a very handsome carriage of the king’s in the coach-house, without arms or cyphers, of a pale blue colour, which, with silver lace, is the colour of the new royal livery. The carriage had every appearance of having been built in England. Excepting this, I never before saw a carriage, unless appropriated for state occasions, belonging to any crowned head on the continent, that an Englishman of taste and opulence would be satisfied with. Even the carriages of Napoleon, built in a city so celebrated for its taste in design, and beauty of workmanship, as Paris, are clumsy and unpleasant to the eye. Although it was Sunday, the sound of workmen, actively engaged in modernizing the palace after the Parisian taste, issued from almost every window. Some Dutchmen who were contemplating the front of the house, shook their heads at this encroachment of the sabbath. In consequence of the internal arrangement not being finished, strangers were not admitted. The walks on the outside of the gardens are formal and insipid; the gardens themselves are handsomely disposed, and kept in great order, and the whole of the premises is insulated by stagnant canals crossed with draw-bridges.