"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.
They entered the second-class sleeping-car. It was altogether a different affair from that used in the United States; but only two rubles extra are charged for this accommodation, though that is all it is worth. It was a large, clumsily-built carriage, with a door in the middle of each side, and one at each end opening upon a platform. On the top was a second story, which, however, was only about half the size of the lower part. The side doors open into an apartment in the middle of the car, furnished with one large arm-chair in a corner, and seats on the sides. From this room a flight of steps ascends to the second-story apartment. From this central corridor two long passage-ways, on opposite sides of the car, lead to the ends. From each of these passage-ways three or four compartments are entered, each with two seats facing each other. The passengers lie upon these seats at night, being provided with a pillow, but with no covering of any kind. Each compartment has one or two swinging shelves, or berths, besides, which are placed above the windows. Of course only three or four passengers can be accommodated in each compartment. There is no ventilation except at the windows; and if a Russian cannot sleep, he lights a paper cigar every half hour, while a dozen others may be smoking in their seats. There are conveniences at each end of the car, which are hardly to be found on the trains of any other country in Europe.
The first-class sleeping-car is precisely like the second, except that it is fitted up in a little better style. The train also includes other carriages, some like those in common use on the continent, and one or two quite different. In one first-class there were two apartments, one at each end, with seats at the sides, and containing a table for card-playing. These rooms are sold at one hundred rubles the trip, whether occupied by one or a dozen persons, for they will seat sixteen. Between these apartments is one for general use, fitted up with stuffed arm-chairs. When the private apartments are not taken by parties, a ruble or two, given to the conductor, will procure admission to them after the train has passed a certain station. The conductors generally speak German, and some of them French.
The doctor, Lincoln, Billy Bobstay, and Scott, took one of the compartments in the second-class sleeping-car. They made some comparisons between the vehicle and those in use at home, and wondered why the people of Europe insist upon making night travel by railroad as uncomfortable as possible. At half past two the train started, and the students were fully occupied for a time in observing the suburbs of the city; but in half an hour there was nothing to be seen but the low, level, marshy country, which is the same thing all the way to Moscow, with hardly anything to vary its monotony.
"We haven't seen any of the triumphal arches of St. Petersburg," said Dr. Winstock. "The Moscow Gate is one of them, and is a very elaborate work of art."
"Where is it?" asked Lincoln.
"On the road to Moscow, just outside of the city. It was erected in honor of the Russian armies that fought in Persia, Turkey, and Poland. The Triumphal Arch of Narva, on the road to the Baltic provinces, is also a beautiful work, and commemorates the victories of the Russian troops, who returned in 1815."
"There's a village," said Lincoln.
"I should think it was a collection of pigsties," added Scott.
The houses were of the rudest construction, and looked more like shanties than the abodes of human beings. They are built of logs generally, some hewn and others just as they fell, with roofs of boards, the ends in many instances not squared. There was nothing like order in their location. After running over two hours the train stopped at a station. Like all the others on the road, it was a large and substantial brick structure, with everything about it kept in good condition.