At ten o'clock in the forenoon, the first division of the tourists, with the Volga party, embarked in the steamer for St. Petersburg. Each of the students had his pea-jacket and small bag. Mr. Agneau, the chaplain, was in charge of the division, and the surgeon, of the Volga party. On their arrival they took omnibuses for the Moscow station. Tickets for the party were procured, with places in the _voiture au lit_, or sleeping car. The distance to Moscow is six hundred and four versts, or four hundred miles. The fare is nineteen rubles, first class, and thirteen rubles, second class. The time is twenty hours by the express train, and four or five more by ordinary trains. Twenty miles an hour is rather slow for a fast train, but it is about the usual rate in Russia. "That's it; this is a Yankee invention," said Scott, as Dr. Winstock handed him his ticket, which was precisely like those of the patented system used on most of the American railroads. "This looks like home. It is stamped with the date, and I suppose they have the machine for doing it. Here, doctor; the date is wrong." "Wrong?" replied the surgeon, glancing at his ticket. "June 2; that's right." "To-day is the 14th, sir." "The 2d in Russia, my boy," laughed the doctor, hastening away to distribute his tickets. "I suppose you know what Old Style means, Scott--don't you?" said Lincoln. "Well, I have heard of such a thing, but I didn't suppose any nation was insane enough to use it." "The Russians are, and consequently are just twelve days behind the times." "More than that." "Pope Gregory reformed the calendar, and for this reason the Russians will not adopt the Gregorian system, but use the Julian, or Greek calendar." "I say, commodore, don't your head ache?" "No; why should it?" "Because it is so full. I couldn't carry so much useful knowledge around with me, unless I had a basket to tote it in." "I have looked the matter up since I came here. Have you drawn any money in St. Petersburg." "Unfortunately, I have before me the melancholy duty of spending nearly two hundred of these yellow paper rubles. Sad--isn't it?" "Have you your _bordereau_?" asked the commodore. "My what?" "Your _bordereau_." "No, no; I haven't that. I ate it instead of pickled onions for my dinner yesterday," replied Scott, gravely. "Indeed!" "Yes; and if you have one you had better eat it, for they are first rate." "Here is mine," added Lincoln, taking from his pocket the memorandum, which the banker had given him, of the rate of exchange and amount of money paid him. "You see the date is back in May, for I drew on the 10th of June." "Just so; and that is a _bordereau_--is it?" "Yes." "Well, it looks like one." "Would you like to eat it instead of pickled onions?" "No; instead of _caviar_. But suppose we look into the cars," added Scott, as they passed into the room from which passengers step upon the trains.