Vilna is slighted in my description.

I find special mention of only two things, the horse-cars and the bookstores.
On a gray wet morning in early April we set out for the frontier.

This was the real beginning of our journey, and all my faculties of observation were alert.

I took note of everything,--the weather, the trains, the bustle of railroad stations, our fellow passengers, and the family mood at every stage of our progress.
The bags and bundles which composed our travelling outfit were much more bulky than valuable.

A trifling sum of money, the steamer ticket, and the foreign passport were the magic agents by means of which we hoped to span the five thousand miles of earth and water between us and my father.