The passport was supposed to pass us over the frontier without any trouble, but on account of the prevalence of cholera in some parts of the country, the poorer sort of travellers, such as emigrants, were subjected, at this time, to more than ordinary supervision and regulation.
At Versbolovo, the last station on the Russian side, we met the first of our troubles.

A German physician and several gendarmes boarded the train and put us through a searching examination as to our health, destination, and financial resources.

As a result of the inquisition we were informed that we would not be allowed to cross the frontier unless we exchanged our third-class steamer ticket for second-class, which would require two hundred rubles more than we possessed.

Our passport was taken from us, and we were to be turned back on our journey.
My letter describes the situation:-- We were homeless, houseless, and friendless in a strange place.
We had hardly money enough to last us through the voyage for which we had hoped and waited for three long years.

We had suffered much that the reunion we longed for might come about; we had prepared ourselves to suffer more in order to bring it about, and had parted with those we loved, with places that were dear to us in spite of what we passed through in them, never again to see them, as we were convinced--all for the same dear end.