Before the war, the price of the passage was half a guinea, on the signature of the preliminaries of peace six guineas was the price demanded; but this is now reduced to one guinea and a half for each person, with five shillings to the mate, and seven to the steward. The sailors also expect to be remembered. For taking a carriage on board the fee is two guineas. At Dover and Calais passports are examined with the greatest attention. My passport was signed by the King, and countersigned by Lord Pelham, Secretary of State. At Dover all that was required was that it should be properly verified at the Custom House, where it was again countersigned by the controller. At Calais the ceremony was much more scrupulous and imposing. Unfortunately, at the time of our arrival the tide was ebbing, and we were forced to wait outside the harbour until the tide flowed. We did not enter until three in the morning, having been at sea fourteen hours! When we anchored, an officer came on board to inspect our passport. He informed us that it was impossible to enter the town until the gates were opened at eight o’clock in the morning, but that there was a little “cabaret,” to which strangers were permitted to visit for refreshment. I gave the officer a letter of recommendation addressed to the Commissary-General Mengoud, requesting him, on behalf of the lady who was with me, to deliver it immediately, not doubting that it would facilitate us the disagreeable necessity of sitting up all night in the public cabin of the packet. The officer declared he dared not disturb Monsieur Mengoud at night. We remained until seven o’clock in the morning, in this uncomfortable situation, when exhaustion compelled us to leave the vessel and repair to the “cabaret.” We were then conducted to a little pig-stye beside the gates of the town, where we underwent a pleasant ceremony called “La visite de la personne.” Four of the passengers could only be admitted at a time. Two officers of the Customs passed their hands over the ladies’ dresses, and contented themselves with asking the gentlemen whether they had any contraband goods about them. After this we were allowed to enter the “cabaret,” a filthy hovel, full of fishermen, drinking beer and gin. Here we were regaled with coffee and bread, so disgustingly bad that we could not touch either, and for which each person was charged three English shillings. I could not help observing to my hostess, that I did not doubt but that when I next visited France, I should have the honour of waiting upon her husband as Mayor of Calais, for she was certain of soon amassing a vast fortune. There were nine of us in company, and she cleared twenty-seven shillings in a moment. [Sidenote: ARRIVAL AT CALAIS]