We set out from this town, and marched seventeen miles to Sandwich, a small town on the east side of Detroit River, and one mile below Detroit; it contains perhaps about three hundred inhabitants. We were divided in small companies, and put into different houses, where we had the happiness once more to see fire. _27th._ We drew a ration of bread and fresh beef, but no salt, and had no way of cooking the beef. We commenced our march at 1 o’clock, and marched ten miles, part of the way on Lake St. Clair. In the evening we were conducted to cold barns, and there shut up till morning, deprived of fire. _28th._ We recommenced our march early, as cold a morning as ever I experienced, and continued twenty-four miles on Lake St. Clair; at night we were conducted to a cold barn on the beach; we lay without fire, except a few who could not get in, who had the happiness of encamping in the woods. _29th._ We again resumed our march, and continued on the lake fifteen miles to the mouth of La Tranche River, called by some the River Thames; during this time we had to run to keep ourselves from freezing; we continued up the river five miles, and stopped while the guard went in to warm and to get their dinner. Having drawn no provisions since we left Sandwich, some of the prisoners were driven to the necessity of picking up frozen potatoes and apple peelings that had been thrown out in the yard. One of the prisoners, being unable to keep pace with the rest, was left on the lake, but was accidentally overtaken by a sleigh and brought on. After being in a stove room some time, he was led out to march, trembling with cold. One of the guard observed, “he was a man of no spirit to freeze such a day as this.” So barbarous were their dispositions and treatment, that I concluded we should die of cold and hunger. We marched ten miles farther to Captain Dolson’s, where we were conducted into a large still-house. A number lodged below among the still-tubs by the fire; the rest on the loft, where they were annoyed with the smoke. Some time in the night they brought us a little bread and meat. _30th._ We drew two days’ provisions, and cooked it. _31st._ It snowed all day; notwithstanding, we marched twenty-four miles and were shut up in a barn wet and cold. Going to a barn to lodge so cold an evening was like approaching a formidable enemy, for we expected to perish with cold in the dreary dwelling. Many got their feet frostbitten. We tried in vain to keep our shoes from freezing by putting them under our heads. _February 1._ We continued our march twenty-two miles in a thinly settled country, and passed through the Moravian nation of Indians; in the evening we encamped in the woods. _2d._ We marched twenty-two miles, suffering greatly both with hunger and cold. In the evening we arrived at Delaware township, a small settlement on the River La Tranche. We were divided into small companies, and were permitted to lodge in houses by fires.