_27th._--Gloomy cold day. A mass to be celebrated for the soul of Louis XVI. I had promised M. le Baron to allow my men to assist in the procession, but instead was obliged to take leave as they were about to begin. Early in the morning all the front of the chateau was hung with black cloth. Nothing could be kinder or even more affectionate than our leave-taking, and Madame obliged F. to wrap up in a rich _pelerin_ of her own, which we were to leave at Quillacq’s. The distance being so short, we were not long on the road, which for the most part lay along the canal as far as St Pierre, a great straggling suburb of Calais, in which we were to halt. Nothing could be worse than our accommodations here--horses and men scattered about by twos and threes, far and wide; some of them were sent back almost to Guines--so near at least as to hear distinctly the church-bells. As for us, we were put into a farmhouse, where they gave us a room without a fireplace, insufferable in such a season; therefore, being obliged to go into Calais to report our arrival to Webber Smith, I left F. and Hitchins hunting for another quarter. After some trouble I got a billet from the Quartermaster-General on the Lion d’Argent, in Calais, kept by an impudent English scoundrel named Oakshot, who was not at all well pleased at our being put on him. Rode back to St Pierre, where I found F. and Hitchins in a bedroom they had procured at a dirty smoky _brasserie_; so we all adjourned together to the Silver Lion. Here we were detained some time, which, however, was of less consequence, as we were lodged well and fed well. In other respects, however, the detention was anything but pleasant. Calais at the best of times must be a dismal stupid hole; at this season of storms, cold, rain, mud, &c. &c. it was scarcely endurable. Great part of my day was passed at or about the pier, whence, from time to time as vessels arrived, we shipped off some of our people.