_Sunday._--In the road to Juliers there are works upon the road made by the French whilst they were in possession of this country. Juliers is an ugly town belonging to the Elector of Bavaria. At Aix-la-Chapelle heard the melancholy tale of the Queen’s being sent to the Conciergerie. Unhappy woman! there is little hope of peace for her in this life. Gaston continues successful in Brittany. He appears to rise by magic, suddenly he advances at the head of thousands, and then as suddenly they dissolve into air. It is a pity the emigrants are not sent to succour him, but I confess I begin to fear the _liberal_, generous, and gallant Englishman looks at France with a mercantile, suspicious eye. Slept at Aix-la-Chapelle. _12th August._--The road to Maestricht in a shocking state. The town surrounded by works thrown up by the French when they besieged it under Miranda, early in the year, while Dumouriez invaded Holland. During the siege the _émigrés_ worked the guns, and were as brave as this nation have always been. The besiegers gave up the attack. The strength of the town is prodigious. It was the work of Crehorne [_sic_], a great military tactician; it now belongs to the Dutch, always garrisoned by 8000 or 10,000 men. It is a pretty town, large, well built, and paved. Dined at Maestricht, and should have reached St. Trond, but want of horses compelled us to stop at Tongres. _13th._--Straight long avenues and fertile country. Stopped at Louvain. In the courtyard saw English carriages, belonging to some young men who are going to Italy, Mr. Amherst, Beauclerk, and Cornewall. Near this town were fought the battles that expelled the patriots from Flanders--_Neerwinden_ and _Louvain_. _Bruxelles._--Found a budget of letters, from T. P. and my father. Ld. H.[90] talks of coming to meet me; he can be absent from the Hague only by stealth. Wrong as it will be, my inclination would get the better of my reason if I had the measure to decide upon, but as I have _not_, it must take its chance; only I do not think he can arrive before I go. My children are perfectly well. Everything in this town is as it was _nine_ years ago, when I, a little harmless innocent, used to meander among the groves of this delicious park. My father lived a year at this pretty place when I was a very young performer in life. I went to see the desolation made a few days ago by a dreadful accident in the suburb. Some ammunition waggons, to the amount of eight in number, suddenly blew up. The explosion was fatal to 100 persons; a gentleman, lady, child, and three servants were travelling past, and must have perished, as no vestige of them or their equipage remains.